There is really only one thing to do - after a soul-wrenching day and night and a loss you cant put into words - when your feminist wife (who abhors the concept of gender-based roles.....unless its the middle of the night and theres a scary noise down the hallway and at that point shes totally fine with the men are supposed to get stabbed first while protecting) insists that shes going to push-mow the yard on Saturday morning. She INSISTS on mowing and confirms that she doesnt care about the lawn (and she doesnt, hilariously) but she wants the work-out. (Apparently shes giving up on the Brazilian butt-lift and trading it for yard cross-fit.) She insists. Multiple choice. A) You argue. NOTE: This is pointless. Youre exhausted. You love her. You were raised with man-code but she does what she wants. B) You feel emasculated as she stomps all over your traditional family roles and you hide in the corner of your house, 3/4 pregnant and barefoot like some 1950s Appalachian Stepford man-wife, as she does all the heavy-lifting and you watch like some Nancy. OR c) You step out onto the porch in your shirtless boxers/sagging gym shorts combo and you stand there proudly eating Cheerios until you both start laughing so hard that she begs you to go inside because it looks like youre chauvinistically supervising her for every soul traveling down 102. Truth? Im making another bowl of Cheerios. I love you, Angelina Hampton. Thank you for being there in the hard times. And....you missed a spot.
Posted on: Sat, 03 May 2014 16:56:31 +0000
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