A few years back, when I decided to get my nose pierced, it was because I'd been thinking about doing it for at least 5 years prior, off and on. I'd weigh the pros and cons, consider where to get it done and all that jazz. I never got it done though.
And then, one day, on our 5th wedding anniversary in fact, as my mother-in-law was flying into Denver for a visit, I dressed Kiddo #1 (who was then 14 months old) and announced, in a smiley, sing-song way:
Me: Bye honey. I'm going to get my nose pierced.
Husband: We need bread.
Me: Uh, ok?
Husband: You said you are going to Costco, right?
Me: No. I'm going to get my nose pierced. But I can get bread afterwards.
Husband: At Costco?
Me: No. Why don't you understand my words?
Husband: Because what I keep hearing that you're going to get your nose pierced but that doesn't make any sense, so I figure you're getting groceries.
See how that works? Anyway I looked at him and let him know that he wasn't having hearing issues (this, by the way, is a bit of an ongoing joke that Husband is partially-deaf).
He said "Since when?" and I was flabbergasted. I mean, I'd been considering getting a nose ring since not long after we got married! This was no fly-by-night decision, but one that was long overdue! If this decision was a library book, I'd have fines up the wazoo! If this decision was a speeding ticket, there would be a warrant out for my arrest! Why, if this decision to get a nose ring was anything at all, it was thoroughly thought through.
(Hey, if you're learning English, you'll notice those last three words look extremely similar, yet, they each have completely different pronunciation. Thoroughly: thoroly; Thought: thot; through: throo. As a connoisseur of languages, I am sorry that English doesn't have accents. They're handy little smears.)
And yet, apparently I'd neglected to mention it, even once, to Husband. Interesting.
Off I drove with Kiddo #1 to Ye Olde Tattoo and Piercing Shoppe. Marlene, the shoppe owner introduced me to Jaspar, the 6'4" guy with a 3 foot blue Mohawk Kiddo #1 looked shocked to see someone whose hair almost touched the ceiling.
I brought my baby girl, who was just walking on her own, into the piercing room. She (I think) watched me get a piece of cork shoved into my nostril and a needle stabbed into it. Huh. I never thought of it, but probably that's why she didn't cry when she got her ears pierced-- she'd seen it all before and knew it was ok on some sub-conscious level.
I returned home with our baby to hang out with Husband and Mother-In-Law and things were normal like nothing had happened. Turns out getting ones nose pierced isn't a big deal at all. Why had I waited 5 long years?
Now fast-forward to last weekend, 2012 when I got a text at 4pm asking where the heck I was.
Me: Uh, the tattoo shop?
Husband: What?
Me: I'm getting some work done.
Husband: What?
Me: Hello? Remember when I said this morning, "Hey, can you take the kids for a few hours today while I get my tattoo touched up?" and you said, "Ok."
Husband: No.
Me: Well, we did. And then you'll notice it's on the calendar. And then, you'll notice an email we wrote to each other over the past 3 days where I mention that I'm getting work done on Saturday and how you'll have the kids and here are some things you can do together.
Husband: Seriously? Really this happened?
Me: I love you. I'll see you in an hour.
Husband: Uh, ok?
Me: Love you! :D
And, when I returned home, after fretting about getting a tattoo on my inner arm by my wrist-- it's so visible and visible! What will the neighbours think!? I realized that getting ones skin tattooed isn't a big deal at all. Why had I waited 5 long years? I am who I am and no amount of metal or ink will change that. Plus, I'm not gonna lie, I feel kinda badass for a Volvo driving soccer mom.
But, I can't win for losing: when I completely neglect to tell Husband about a plan, he doesn't know about it; when I tell him several times over a period of a month, he doesn't know about it.
(if you're learning English, the expression "can't win for losing" is an idiom that makes NO sense. Of course you can't win if you're losing. Duh!)
Maybe for Christmas I'll get some post-it notes implanted on his arm. Then I can write little letters to him that he can post all over his office and car and... never see anyway. It'll be like that one movie where that guy tattoos his leg with important info about who to trust because he has no short term memory. Oh shoot, what's the movie called?
Either way, there's something super cool about this state of affairs-- see, I figure if he won't remember what I've told him, then I might as well just go out and buy myself whatever present I want, wrap it, and just let him take credit for it. It's win-win because I get exactly what I want and he doesn't have to do anything but reap the rewards.
We are just so dang GOOD together!
Don't you love my 7.8 carat diamond earrings?
I got them for Christmas last year...
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