|Heading out to a wedding|
I’m doing dishes. Really! I am not writing this inspired piece when my house needs some serious attention. I am wearing a decidedly uninspired cardigan and washing dishes and thinking about how cleavage gets a drink and other dating while married rules.
I shared this tarty bit of wisdom today, in all places, in my Bible study group. I’m not a good church girl. I just love Jesus (and if you don’t that is fine by me, and if you are married, keep reading!). The study we are doing is Stormie Omartian’s “The Power of a Praying Wife” and we were talking about sex, affection, and alongside that scintillating topic (church girls DO have sex with their hubbies, fyi.) we also hit on finances. These two topics definitely go together.
I relayed a story from date night with my husband John from last week. We went out to a high end dinner joint, Pikk’s Tavern here in Valpo and I had dressed for the occasion: Cleavage. For my husband. After becoming a Christian many years ago I do not show off “the girls” often, but once in awhile I like to toe the line and remember that I am not just a wife and mother, but a foxy wife and mother with some tricks up my sleeve. Plus after being married and having kids I do not want my husband to only see me as the mother of his children. I want him to remember me as ME. With curves.
I ordered a drink that cost almost as much as a meal. Eight bucks. An old fashioned, like my Dad makes for me on occasion when he upgrades from box wine. I know we are on a budget, I know babies need shoes and I know I do not really need to have an overpriced drink. I ordered it anyway. I felt fabulous, sassy, sexy and in love with the man across the table from me.
THEN HE SAID: “Wow! Eight bucks….Heather, that drink was eight dollars!”
We can afford it. I know if we were dating I could have ordered lobster and he would barely have blinked. John works hard so I can stay home with our girls and we still live a very comfortable life. But. He felt the drink was over the top. It might have been, I didn’t care.
SO I SAID: “Cleavage gets a drink!”
I explained that when I am The Wife in a cardigan and jeans, I’ll drink tap water. Boxed wine. Almond Milk. BUT. When I am on a date with him, and I am wearing date clothes, and I am looking to be treated like a bombshell instead of a mama, I’ll order a drink. And he will pay for it.
And pull your chin up, stop scoffing, I do not mean to sound vulgar or arrogant. I simply mean I deserve to be pampered, and John deserves to have a woman worth pampering. When we were getting married he called me high maintenance but quipped that he enjoyed maintaining me. I believe men want goals, they want to conquer, and once they have married us….ummmm what conquering is there? So I strive at times to give him a challenge, coy, sporting, romantic or otherwise.
It is our job to keep each other sharp, engaged and alive as we navigate life together as husband and wife. I love him so deeply, and trust that he will allow me to be a little high maintenance at times and still make the doable effort to maintain me. I know he trusts me to keep it to the smaller things. Although I do want some big things…I do not really need them. ( But…well… my cleavage may think differently!)
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Tags: body image