I'm sure you're all familiar with the phenomena of couples starting to look alike after spending many years together. (Or, perhaps, a more accelerated timeframe depending on your subconscious level of codependency. I jest!) Well, it's finally happened to me - though not in the way I'd hoped.
Being the female half of a couple with an incredibly kind and patient man has had many perks, the main one being that I get to wear the pants in this (small, child-free) family. My husband has sat through more rom-coms than he can count, been subjected to endless hours of reality television and traveled to Vegas on holidays simply because that's what my desires dictated. And it has been awesome.
Naturally, with all this pampering of my will, I imagined I was the alpha in the relationship. I always knew the day would come when we'd be out in public for hours before realizing we were dressed in the same colors. And what a treat that would be for him, since I excel at style! I always assumed our inevitable twinning would take the course of Larry donning a jaunty scarf, or perhaps introducing some animal prints into his wardrobe. He might take up a casual interest in yoga or occasionally attempt at Zumba class.
Imagine my surprise to learn that he's actually the dominate one. What a sly bastard! My formerly stick-straight hair now resembles his bouncy curls. I've never had washboard abs (faaaaar from it) - but does my stomach really have to emulate his (adorable) beer belly? And is it my imagination, or is my wardrobe edging towards more function than form? Thank god he has decent taste in footwear. I'd have to contemplate divorce if he was a Crocs devotee
It's eight years in and I think I'm on to his subtle (but Death Star
-level evil) plan. I get it, honey - and enough is the enough. Here's the remote. Now give me my body back!
I guess it could be worse. Bravo for boldness though!