My husband and I have been married for just under 10 years. For close to 8 of these years, he has been a traveling husband. This marriage has worked for us over the years mainly because we have become accustomed to it. His travel schedule allowed me to watch my trashy television in the evenings, have mini-wheats for dinner and do a lot of hanging out with my BFF across the street without complaints.
Recently, he has moved to working out of the home office. Surprisingly, this has been pretty awesome for me. I find that with just another set of eyes on the kids, they are better behaved. I am also not as exhausted and grumpy in the evenings because if I’m pressed for time, he can get my son off the bus or watch over things while I run a quick errand. It took me awhile to have someone in the house with me during the day but I found that it just kept me busy, which is a good thing.
The one area that I am still struggling with is “bringing sexy back” with him in the house. When your husband travels, you can get that facial on a Tuesday that burns the top layer of your skin off. You don’t have to worry about him seeing the effects of it until he returns to a wife with glowing skin on a Friday. When they travel, you can hang out in PJ pants and glasses all day without feeling like a slob. You can even nurse that new breakout properly, knowing it will all but a faded memory by the time he steps off the plane.
But when they are around, they see the good, the bad and the ugly. The Gods have blessed (or cursed) me with some wonderful breakouts while he has been home with me. I try to be confident with a chin that is under attack as I talk to him over morning coffee. But I begin to notice his eyes starring at it. Finally he gives in and says, “Can we at least name that guy?” Ugh. Bringing NO sexy back. 🙂
I’m definitely the kind of wife who tries to keep her bathroom habits private. If I have ever let at toot go in front of my husband, it would have been followed by utter embarrassment for weeks. It has taken me a long time to be okay with knowing what he is doing in the bathroom when I see him take People Magazine in there. Gross. I like to think that people just don’t poop, especially celebrities. There is no way that Jessica Biel gets diarrhea from Taco Bell. Right? She just doesn’t. My husband has no embarrassment about anything due to growing up with a nurse as a Mother. I on the other hand don’t feel like it’s appropriate to talk to your spouse about anything you do in the bathroom. Regardless of how proud you may be of it (which is definitely a man thing too).
As a woman, there are many things that you do during the day without your husband’s knowledge to bring sexy back. All of the shaving, lasers, waxing, plucking, and trimming what have you. I like doing all of these things during the day when I’m alone so that when my husband sees me, he just thinks that I naturally look that way all the time. I don’t even like to have him watch me put make-up on. Does he need to know that I fill in my brows a little or pile on under-eye concealer? Just the other day I caught him watching me and I decided to just keep going with my makeover. When I looked up at him he said, “Wow. I didn’t know you wore so much make-up on your face.” Exactly.
Now, with spring around the corner, it’s that time of year to get my hoo-hoo in check. I take this responsibility seriously but it involves preparation, as you know. I am quite the wimp when it comes to the wax. I am a sweaty mess when I’m in there and can’t get over the fact that a stranger is seeing all my goods. The pain is intense and I dread every minute of it as I try to make conversation about anything with this chick who is torturing me. To prepare, I have found a numbing cream that does the trick every time. It’s so good that you could slice me open and take a baby out of me down there without me flinching because I’m so numb. Only problem is that I have to block out a good hour with this cream on. Normally, I just block off my morning and get it done while the kids are at school. But today as I’m putting it on, I remember… my husband is in the house. Great. Turns out I can’t sit on a towel in my living room without pants on and eat a ham sandwich while I watch Grey’s Anatomy this time.
He of course walks in as I’m applying the goods and I know there is no avoiding this confrontation. I throw out some not so nice comments about how I have no privacy yada yada yada. He just looks at me and says, “Erin. This is no big deal. Get over it.” And there you have it. Apparently I am a mental case. He doesn’t give a crap about the fact that I’m preparing to wax my hoo.
This man has seen 3 babies come out my downstairs canal but I just can’t handle having him see (or know) all the things I do to prep myself as a woman. I’m not even sure my husband has seen my clip a toenail. (Disgusting and completely unromantic to watch someone do this.) I even get dressed in my closet a lot so that he doesn’t see me jumping up and down to get my tight skinny jeans on. When I open the door… VOILA! I’m ready. I get lots of eye rolling from him when I do this.
In all fairness, I have zero interest in his man-scaping rituals either. Men get hair in weird places and I don’t want to know all those places. Heaven forbid my husband ever come in the bedroom while I’m watching television and be flossing his teeth. He gets a glare of death from me. Gross. Go do that in the bathroom. Poor guy.
Maybe I’m lucky that I have a husband that doesn’t care about all of my female prep. It’s not like he going to turn me down because my face is a little dry from a facial I got early in the day. He wouldn’t even think twice about not talking to me while I have bleaching treys in. I’m sure that he knows my hoo-hoo doesn’t naturally look that way. It is what it is, he would say. I’m sure he’s just happy I’m still trying to look good for him, right?
Sure. I have issues. But I think these are good issues! I am a firm believer in keeping it decently sexy in the marriage. I am however thinking of getting a sign to hang on my bedroom door that reads “Bringing Sexy Back”. This way he knows that there is some serious sh*$ going on and he needs to see no part of it. I must have a place to sit, without pants on, smothered in numbing cream while I eat a ham sandwich and watch TV. That is a ritual I am not ready to part with and I’m on the books again in 6 weeks. Ugh.