Because sometimes a status update just isn't enough.

Because sometimes a status update just isn't enough.

17 February 2012

Bringing Sexy Back

Last weekend, at around 1:15 in the afternoon, I meandered into our bedroom, where Dan was laying in bed watching basketball, to finally get dressed for the day.

As I was putting on the same dog-haired too-tight black yoga pants I'd worn the day before, this happened:  

Dan:  *barely glancing at me*  "Where are you going?"

Me:  "Nowhere... why?"

Dan:  "Then what are you getting all dressed up for?"



Apparently, too-tight yoga pants that are covered in blonde pug hair and have a big bleach spot on the back are the new Dressing Up.

Now you know and can dress accordingly.

Look at you, all dressed up and fancy-like in your sweatpants...

I get all dressed up in my evening sweats and the bastard takes me to KFC...

Gonna pick up my lady and take her someplace reallll niiiice...

Wearin' my special eatin' clothes...

I feel so over-dressed... I didn't realize there'd be folding chairs...

So basically, what I gathered from our conversation is that a) I need to step up my game or b)  his expectations are really, really low.  After some deep thought, I've come to the conclusion that it's b)  his expectations are really, really low.

These are a few of the things that have helped me figure all this out:

Dan will want to go somewhere that there will be other people.  (In other words, we will be seen by fellow humans and may be forced to interact with them.)  He will make this decision on the day that I didn't shower, my hair looks like it got stuck in a ceiling fan, I spent the day pulling weeks and picking up dog poop from the yard, and am wearing grass stained filthy sweatpants and a t-shirt that I slopped coffee on earlier in the day.

He will also make this decision 8 minutes before we need to leave.

We will have this conversation:

Dan:  *all pumped up and rarin' to go*  "Hey, let's go get something to eat and go see a movie!  Blah blah blah starts in an hour and a half and if we leave now, we can go to the restaurant first and then get to the theater on time!"

Me:  *looking and smelling like I just rolled out of a dumpster*  "I need to get ready first... I have to shower and get dressed."

Dan:  "Why?  What's wrong with what you're wearing?  You look fine."

Wow, baby!  You look GREAT!  Who does your hair?

About a month ago, after a fat and lazy weekend during which time neither one of us had moved beyond the four walls of our apartment, our phone rang at 3:00 on a Sunday afternoon.  It was Dan's brother.  I woke Dan up, waited for him to wipe the drool off of his chin, and handed him the phone.  I went back out to the living room to lie on the couch and cuddle the dogs (and shove popcorn down my throat like it was my job).

A few minutes later, Dan came out and said:  "Dave wants us to come over and watch football and have dinner.  They have a bunch of people over."

Me:  *blinking and thinking, "Shit... people.  I hate people."*  "Ummm... okay... When?"

Dan:  "Right now.  Let's go."

Yeahhh... about that.  I don't think so.

I was still in my pajamas... the same pajamas I'd been wearing for two days (don't judge me).  One half of my hair was sticking to my head, the other half was standing straight up.  I smelled like a charming mix of pug, pomeranian, and whatever I'd spilled down my front.  

All the cool kids wear THEIR jammies in public...

Me:  "I'm not going anywhere until I take a shower.  And, no offense, but neither should you."

Dan:  *scratching himself and farting*  "Why? What's wrong with me?  Besides, we don't have time.  It's going to take us an hour to get there."

Me:  "Then we're either going to be late or we're staying home."

(Dude... I may be a disgusting slob at home but I'll be goddamned if I'm going to take my show on the road.)

Dan:  *looking confused and shocked*  "Why?  Just comb your hair and put on some jeans!"

I won't go into the details on how long we actually fought about this, but suffice it to say Dan wound up calling his brother in a snit and saying indignantly, "Well, I guess we're going to be late.  Apparently my wife can't leave the house without taking a shower."

Yeah... that makes me look reeeeallll bad, y'all.

Ahhh... be still my heart...

Other Danisms:

"I like you better without make-up."

"Why do you keep dying your hair?  I don't care if you let it go gray."

"What do you mean, you've gained weight?  You look beautiful!"

Okay, wait...

I changed my mind.

I'll settle for his low expectations.


  1. Yeah, seriously. What the hell is wrong with you? (I mean besides not showering for a week). The fact that your man loves you exactly as you are and doesn't expect you to put any work into it? I've decided . . . keeper. Now if you could just work on that snoring problem . . .

    1. Okay, IN my defense, I've never gone a week without showering. I need to put that out there.

      Yeah, the whole "loves me the way I am" and "snoring loudly enough to wake the dead" is a Catch-22.
      Pondering the pros and cons gives me something to do while I'm lying awake at night.

  2. Sometimes I wonder if my husband hopes that by showing low expectations of me, I will return the favor...dream on man, just take the damn garbage out already!

    1. Right??!! But men embrace their stink. They're like dogs rolling in shit, ya know? I can't quite get there.

  3. You are your own worst critic.

    I slept like shit last night, so I was more interested in drinking a cup of coffee and reading the AM blog feed than I was in getting ready for work this morning. Imagine my surprise when it was suddenly 7:25 and I was still in PJs. I pulled a comb through my hair, added some pomade, and played slap dash with the makeup. I pulled on my lovely Kermit the Frog colored sweater and jeans, and grabbed another cup of coffee on the way out. No one noticed. No one cares. As long as I can't smell myself, I'm good.

    Embrace your inner stank, Dani. Embrace it.

    1. I just can't do that, Manders... I just... can't. A habit of a lifetime is hard to break.

  4. M'kay, I know this isn't the point of the post at all, but I got to the end and still can't stop thinking about that first pic. What is going on there? Are those things by her belly button...boobs?

    1. Yep... boobs.

      When your boobs look like Basset hound ears and are flopping around your belly button, it's time to put on a BRA.

      Just sayin'.

  5. Hahaha sounds like it just makes him pretty sweet most of the time. Awwwww.

    1. He has his moments :) Not many... but enough to keep him around.

  6. Can I substitute pug hair for cat hair?

    1. Uh...yeah...I suck. I should have said," Can I substitute cat hair for pug hair?"

      ::head hung in shame::

      What can I say? I haven't had chocolate yet this morning.

    2. I was thinking, "Hell YEAH I'll send you my pug hair!" But then I was all, "Wait... I'm allergic to cats..."

  7. Yes settle for that I'd say you've got a winner!


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