I know it’s a touchy subject amongst the ladies but I’m pretty sure most men see a beautiful woman when she walks down the street in front of them…..even my husband.
I could look out my front door and find five women better looking than me on any given day. I mean, the mail lady is better looking than me not to mention my neighbor two doors down, the newspaper delivery woman and the girl who helped paint the house across the street.
I might not be magazine gorgeous but I am fun, clever, quick on my feet, and useful at a party. I can throw a football and eat wings with the best of them. It might surprise you that I make my husband’s lunch without complaining every day and that I meet him at the door with coffee and a clean house.
I am a loyal partner and I more than pull my weight. I don’t have a jewelry or shoe fetish unless you are talking about Swatches and Vans, which are both easily, under a hundred bucks. I am the kind of girl who can hang out in a man cave and blend in.
I am a good mother to our children most days, a great one on some days, and the rest of the days I make mediocre look magnificient, but those I chalk up to PMS and workplace fatigue, which I just made up.
All things considered, in the laundry list of daily life, surface beauty isn’t everything.
In fact, surface beauty isn’t anything.
You don’t earn it; you don’t sweat for it; you don’t go to school for it or make sacrifices for it; while I, on the other hand, have been developing my sexy personality for 40 years plus.
Beauty, when it stands alone, bores me before five minutes is up and my husband too, because let’s face it my husband loves all things Becky.
Okay that’s not exactly true, he hates the Shortie sweatshirt and he for sure can’t stand my baggy yoga pants. He hates that I throw trash right on the floor of my car and he doesn’t love the way I jam the gas pedal down then slow down to a crawl.
He hates how I put the dishes back different every time. He really can’t stand that I read every night and always fall asleep with the light on; it drives him crazy that I’m such a scaredy cat that sometimes I won’t sleep with the windows open.
He wishes I could cook and would wear heels, maybe at the same time.
I also love/hate each crazy ridiculous fact about Mike from his eating a squirrel sandwich in sixth grade to the puffy sweatshirt he wore as part of his break dancing crew to the way he insists on telling me which way to go though I have been THERE 76 times and if I hear him say that all he wants for Christmas is a pony one more time I would rip his hair out but I can’t because he has a shaved head.
But I love him and anyone who knows me at all knows that I love my man.
Thing is, when you first meet, you love the way they look and then you learn to love the way they are and act.
But you don’t know the meaning of marriage until you’ve worked your way through the ugly and in any good and truthful marriage there will be ugly and you will be responsible for some of it and if you are lucky enough you will have a partner who will work through ugly with you.
On June 1st Mike and I will celebrate thirteen years of marriage; some good, some bad and some ugly but still happily together.
So, beautiful women, you have my full permission to flaunt yourself in front of my husband any day of the week, because we got ugly in this house and that is something to celebrate.