It’s in the jeans…

A funny blog post about shopping for jeans with the hubby by Midlife Dramas in PyjamasFinally managed to talk husband into buying new jeans. He’s only had the last lot for 10 years…so actually I’ve done quite well getting him to agree to a wardrobe update so soon! He declared he needed a couple of pairs in total. I declared he needed a few pairs for ‘every day’ and a few pairs for ‘going out’. Eyes were rolled…

I hit the shopping centre with a look of steel in my eyes. He hit the shopping centre with a look of fear in his eyes. Knew there was limited time before he refused to drop his trousers anymore, so quickly headed to first shop. Husband veered towards comfort fit, I veered towards slim fit. A stalemate – we compromised and met at straight fit.

I selected several in the same size…but different brands. He selected one and declared that all jeans of the same size would fit the same…regardless of brand. Oh dear, how little he knows about clothes shopping. I managed to force another pair into his hands, as he rushed passed me into the changing rooms with his solitary pair.

So – two pairs of the same size, but different brands, had made it in. First pair made him speak with a squeaky voice, second pair needed braces to keep them up. My point was made. He agreed to try on all of my selection…

ONE pair out of the six he’d taken in was deemed acceptable – by me. Left to his own devices he’d have bought the first pair that vaguely fitted, then legged it.

Went on to next – and final – shop; remember there’s a very small window of opportunity before boredom sets in.  However,  something strange seemed to happen between first and second shop – husband suddenly got into swing of things and started picking up jeans with gay abandon. AND willingly trying them all on. AND announcing he wanted to buy them…ALL!

We staggered to the till and watched helplessly as the young shop assistant scrunched them up and forced them into a bag far too small. The restraint on my part required not to pull them all out and re-pack them was immeasurable. I waited until we’d walked away from the till – then did it.

So, a successful outcome all round. A wardrobe brimming with up-to-date jeans.

Now all I need to do is persuade him to throw out all the old ones…

Darling, do you think the supermarket will stock…

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My husband likes to cook. At the weekend he likes to read a broadsheet newspaper. And he particularly likes to combine the two – by using recipes he finds in the broadsheet’s magazine. The recipes invariably contain somewhat ‘out there’ ingredients: French rock salt in a dinky, stylish, expensive jar as opposed to table salt in a massive, plastic, economy tub.

Last night I was writing the weekly shopping list. Husband was reading the broadsheet magazine. He looked up. I knew what was coming, “Do you think the supermarket will sell quinces and malt powder?”

I went to said supermarket today. Did they stock these two items? No they did not. I looked around for replacements, and did the best I could.

I bought him an apple and some Horlicks…

Who said romance was dead?

alligator in towelI was getting dry after my shower when husband came in to the bathroom – to get something out of the cupboard. I looked at him and smiled.

Feeling a bit frisky I slipped one shoulder out of the towel and looked at him coyly, then followed it with the other. I allowed the fabric to drop tantalisingly over the top of my breasts, slowly revealing my nipples. He looked at me appreciatively as the towel slithered to the floor, and licked his lips – then his expression changed. Was it lust? Was it admiration? Was it awe?

He opened his mouth to speak the immortal words that every wife longs to hear…

“You’ve got a long hair growing out from the side of your left nipple.”