The Husband Doesn’t Believe

You’ll be happy to know that stinky wife week has ended. Well, you won’t, but my family is. Although the dogs paid me much more attention than usual.

As I’ve said in my previous post The End Is Nigh, it is practice for the apocalypse. The hair I let grow on my legs is for camouflage (I figure I can hide like a Sasquatch. Or a Wookie. Lets say Wookie, because Wookies are real!) but I do shave when it gets to the point that if I move quickly, I smell burning hair. This is all stuff that my husband can’t understand.

“What’s with the armpit hair?”

“I’m pretending.”

“What in the fuck are you pretending? That you are a hairy man?”

I don’t tell him a Wookie.

“I’m pretending I’m a French girl. Or Italian. Spanish. I don’t know. Some European country where it’s considered sexy not to shave.”

“Well maybe you should be pretending to be a not hairy Canadian and get a razor. And a bar of soap.”

That man has no sense of adventure.

Last spring I was alone here in the country. Son was at school. All peace and quiet. I looked out at my neighbour’s and saw three men in orange vests moving slowly across his property. They had helmets and walkie talkies, and some sort of weird machine that I thought was a Geiger counter. I was convinced aliens had crashed in his yard.

I phoned my husband and spoke in a terrified whisper.

“There are guys all over the place! They’re looking for aliens! I think it’s the government! You’d better get home! They might kill me because I know too much!”

To which my hero replied: “Did you put a bra on this morning?”

Ummm, what?

I’m not sure how that would have saved my life. Perhaps he thought if I was buxom and pert, they may let me survive.

I have pulled him out of bed to look at something in the sky that I was sure was a UFO. That was headed for our house. To get me.

“C’mon! Just look at it! What d’ya think it is?”

“A plane. Listen. Hear It? Are you even sober? I’m going back to bed, weirdo.”

He doesn’t believe. It’s all right. He indulges my whimsy and I think it gives him something to talk about at work.

The upside? When my emergency preparedness funkiness ends, he thinks something really exciting and special is happening.

“WOW! You look great! Is it our anniversary? Did I miss it?”

No, baby. This is just for you.

(And because my pit hair was actually starting to tangle. He doesn’t need to know that.)

9 thoughts on “The Husband Doesn’t Believe

  1. I am cracking up. You give me such hope…if somebody loves your crazy ass there is hope I’ll find my man! hahaha. (That is said with love and understanding by the way!) Tangled pit hair is NOT okay…glad you took care of that.

    • It’s all about choosing wisely! He knew it would be entertaining, to say the least. And I love you too! Keep shaving, er, smiling!

  2. I refused to shave, period, until well into my 30s. 🙂 Being on the blonde side, the hair on my legs was never really noticeable until you were right up on it, but the armpit hair? ha ha! That was noticeable.

    Glad to hear I’m not the only weirdo out there. (Said with love, of course!)

    Pearl

  3. I don’t know what’s with you guys believing that but Europenas shave… Yes dear, we shave, we wax, we even Brazilian wax, believe it or not! We shower, we do NOT go around naked all day or have sex everywhere (well, some of us maybe). I don’t mean to ruin your fantasies, sorry!!! Feel free to come to Europe one day and see the shaved European ladies (and many men for that mather) with your own eyes!!!

    • Haha! Thanks for your comment. But, truly, Europe, you have just ruined all my fantasies of you! p.s. This is satire. I joke, I kid. Apologies from Canada. Please buy our oil.

  4. Your husband is pretty funny 🙂 and so are you… Europeans shave. They just don’t shower. JUST KIDDING. But actually I have met a lot of older Irish men who DO NOT SHOWER or wear deodorant and that shiz is NOT FUNNY. Guess what they do? Once a week, they pit wash in the sink. Sons of stinky old men beezies, get away from me you stinkers! They also like to smell like that and be in closed, confined quarters since it is always raining. Maybe that’s why they don’t shower. They just think all the rain plus all the Guinness in their systems will clean them out.

Go on. Talk to Mama Duck.

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