Yesterday, as my boys (sons, husband, dog) set up their man cave for an afternoon of football (not even football but Redzone which is pretty much ADD football), I saw my opening and left the apartment. I could’ve left without any of them noticing but I said goodbye. “Where are you going” my husband asked in the way you ask a question when you don’t really care if there’s an answer. I said “I’m not sure”. While the possibilities were endless, I opted for a manicure and pedicure with a friend. Can I really critique my guys when I pretty much did the female version of Sunday football? Sure I can.
Anyway, we picked our colors “don’t pretzel my buttons” and “partner in crime” in case you’re like me and select colors based on names. Truth be told, I am only at the nail salon for the massage (15 additional minutes on both feet and hands). My friend and I started catching up. My anonymous friend mentioned an equally anonymous family member who upon trying on her jeans remarked “these shrunk in the wash.” As she recounted this, anony friend rolls her eyes and we both cracked up. “It’s never really the wash” said friend “or the dry cleaner” I added. Yes, yes clothing shrinks and if your dry fit tee looks like it can fit a first grader- dryer culpa. But the five minutes most of us have our jeans on “dewrinkle” doesn’t make them tight. OK?
Post pedi I realized the first football game wasn’t even over. I can’t even dawdle when I try. So anony (and fun) friend said, “they’re watching football, let’s get a beer”. I agreed to a gluten free (Estrella) beer and we sat outside a cafe. This was such a nice break from kitchen cleaning, week planning and all the other sucky Sunday stuff I typically do. I could’ve been on vacation and yet I was 2 blocks from home. Friend, so you know she isn’t just honest to her family members, says “as I sit here with you I can feel my jeans pushing into my fat.” My advice to her “you have to keep wearing those jeans, not as a torture device, but the second you give up on the fat-pushing pants it’s pretty much game over.” Another laugh and because I had zero confidence my three guys would remember that even though they had no need to go out, the dog (Bronco- like the Denver Broncos) did, I went home.
P.S. Nothing makes me feel more full and gross than beer.
Have you blamed the wash or the cleaners? Think you should wear clothing even if it’s borderline? What would you have done with a free afternoon?