I closed my eyes and leaned in for the kiss, expecting him to gather me into his arms.
“Why do you smell like medicine?”
My eyes flew open at Tom’s question. Why was he rambling on about medicine when we were about to share a kiss? Maybe I heard him wrong. So I closed my eyes again and leaned in again.
“Seriously, you smell like medicine.”
“What are you talking about?” I demanded. I wanted to add, “you ungrateful asshole,” but I didn’t.
“You smell weird,” Tom admitted.
Then I understood what he was talking about. See, I had started putting on this stuff:
And okay, while it doesn’t smell the greatest, I certainly would say that it smelled like medicine.
“That’s the stretch mark cream,” I explained. “I’m hoping to get rid of my stretch marks.” I really wish I could be like one of those ladies who are proud of their stretch marks but I’m not. I’m sick of my stomach looking as though someone has taken a knife to it. I used to have a tight stomach, for craps sake.
Tom should be THANKING ME for wanting to better myself.
“It smells weird,” Tom prattled on.
Seriously, could he just DROP the smell thing already?
So because I was insulted, guess who slept on the couch that night?
Well.
No one. Mainly because Tom is stubborn and no matter how upset we are with each other, he’s not about to sleep on the tiny uncomfortable couch. Me either, for that matter.
Guess who DIDN'T get lucky?
Well.
No one.
Because I’m a woman and I have needs and my husband will be in Korea in 2 months for an entire year.
So there.
No comments:
Post a Comment