I hesitate to write this post, as it reflects upon a subject that is rocking the very foundation of my marriage. But, as I can no longer ignore the blatant warning signs, it’s time to confront the issue head-on:
My husband thinks I’m a pansy.
I admit, there are a few “quirks” to my personality that could be misinterpreted as weakness –my fear of arachnids, for instance, or my inability to deal with sub-74 degree temperatures.
But as a whole, I’d say I’m one heck of a strong female. After all, I could whip my older brother in arm wrestling up until we were in high school (in his defense, I did outweigh him by a good 80 pounds).
Nonetheless, I always thought RP could go to bat for my un-sissy-ness, especially since I never make him watch chick flicks and didn’t even cry until the second year of our relationship (to be fair I spent the entirety of year two in tears).
That is, until we discussed the idea of camping.
K: “I think I’d like to come on your Wyoming backpacking trip.”
RP: “Honey, it’s kind of hard.”
K: “I do hard things. I totally kick butt in BodyPump.”
RP: “It’s a really long hike and you’d have a huge backpack on.”
K: “I run all the time. And have you even SEEN my purses?”
RP: “There might be bears.”
K: “I’ll carry some mace. Bears hate that. I learned about it.”
RP: “We don’t eat much. Just fish and protein bars and stuff.”
K: “How much weight could I lose? At least five pounds?”
RP: “It gets cold at night.”
K: “Um… like… how cold? Below SIXTY?”
RP: “There’s no frozen yogurt.”
K: “Like, anywhere? What do the Indians do after dates?”
And so it went, until it became clear that, despite all my protesting, RP had a valid point: I’m kind of a wuss.
So as my visions of husband-and-wife bonding amidst a crackling fire and a pile of s ’mores slowly dissipates, I just wanted to make it known: I’m free for Labor Day.
My husband thinks I’m a pansy.
I admit, there are a few “quirks” to my personality that could be misinterpreted as weakness –my fear of arachnids, for instance, or my inability to deal with sub-74 degree temperatures.
But as a whole, I’d say I’m one heck of a strong female. After all, I could whip my older brother in arm wrestling up until we were in high school (in his defense, I did outweigh him by a good 80 pounds).
Nonetheless, I always thought RP could go to bat for my un-sissy-ness, especially since I never make him watch chick flicks and didn’t even cry until the second year of our relationship (to be fair I spent the entirety of year two in tears).
That is, until we discussed the idea of camping.
K: “I think I’d like to come on your Wyoming backpacking trip.”
RP: “Honey, it’s kind of hard.”
K: “I do hard things. I totally kick butt in BodyPump.”
RP: “It’s a really long hike and you’d have a huge backpack on.”
K: “I run all the time. And have you even SEEN my purses?”
RP: “There might be bears.”
K: “I’ll carry some mace. Bears hate that. I learned about it.”
RP: “We don’t eat much. Just fish and protein bars and stuff.”
K: “How much weight could I lose? At least five pounds?”
RP: “It gets cold at night.”
K: “Um… like… how cold? Below SIXTY?”
RP: “There’s no frozen yogurt.”
K: “Like, anywhere? What do the Indians do after dates?”
And so it went, until it became clear that, despite all my protesting, RP had a valid point: I’m kind of a wuss.
So as my visions of husband-and-wife bonding amidst a crackling fire and a pile of s ’mores slowly dissipates, I just wanted to make it known: I’m free for Labor Day.
Come to Washington. We'll let you bake us some stuff.
ReplyDeleteyou could come to Hawaii and run with me :)
ReplyDeleteRick, I know I really suck at coming through on trips...but now that Rad isn't going to Wyoming, put me on the short list for options.
ReplyDelete