My husband is trying to change me. In the same way that I tried to successfully changed him when we were first married.
He’s slowly replacing my personal items with ones that are socially acceptable.
I’m onto him.
First, it was my slippers. It’s in your best interest that I don’t have photos of them. I’d had them for a long, long time. I bought them on clearance at TJ Maxx for $8. In 2005-ish. They were orange. They traveled with me everywhere — all over the country, to Vietnam, to Dubai, to Ethiopia… And at the end, they were gross. Very, very gross.
Two and a half years ago, we visited my friend Karen in St. Louis. She took one look at my slippers and said, “Seriously? I’ve seen the kind of clothes, purses and shoes you buy. WHAT are you doing with those things? Throw. them. away.” (Love you, girl!)
But I didn’t.
I washed them all the time. With bleach. But when slippers get that old, nothing helps.
So for Christmas this year, clever, clever Ed took the kids shopping. Each picked out a new pair of slippers for me. And on Christmas morning, after I had opened up the sweet, hand-picked gifts from my precious children, Ed said, “Okay, kids, go get Mommy’s old slippers and throw them in the trash! She lllooovvvesss your Christmas gifts.”
I was okay with it. I didn’t have a particular attachment to my slippers, although the flip-flop style was quite conducive to summer weather. But anyway, it worked. Ed no longer has to look at or comment about my slippers.
But the robe?
That’s a touchy one.
Behold The Shorty Robe:
Shorty Robe and I go way back. My mom bought Shorty Robe for me just before my freshman year of college. For those who want to mock my advanced age, that was 1998. Yes, Shorty Robe and I have been getting up close and personal for 12.5 years. I’ve had Shorty Robe for one year longer than I’ve had Ed.
Shorty Robe wasn’t always Shorty Robe. She was a little longer, back in her glory days. Or I was a little smaller. Whatever – let’s not split hairs. What matters is that once upon a time, Shorty Robe covered my entire ass as I walked to and from the dorm shower, then later, around the apartment I shared with four girls, then later, in the first apartment Ed and I had together, in our tiny little house during law school, in the first house we bought together and in our current home.
Sadly, the truth is that today, Shorty Robe isn’t what she used to be. She reveals a good inch of ass — something nobody wants to see — and she’s ratty. She’s discolored and covered in pills. She’s very misshapen. It’s bad. When I get out of the shower each day, one of the kids giggles and announces, “I can see your booty, Mommy!”
But she’s MY Shorty Robe. And I’m attached to her.
Ed knows this. For years, he’s looked for a suitable replacement that I would accept. He said he searched long and hard when he and the kids were Christmas shopping for me, but every robe he found was flawed. He’s well aware that Shorty Robe has set the bar high.
And then we came home from our 10th Anniversary in Vegas, and he had something for me. He picked up a robe from Encore (my favorite hotel) for me — one he knew I loved — and told me it was time to let Shorty Robe go.
Today, I got out of the shower, put on my new robe, and knew it was so.
R.I.P., Shorty Robe. You’ve been a trusted, faithful buddy for 12.5 years. Even though Replacement Robe is far fancier, much more aesthetically pleasing and…long, you will be missed.
And P.S. If Ed goes after my grandma shower cap and terrycloth headband combo — the other thing that makes him crazy — he’s going to find out where I draw the hard line in the sand.