Ladies, I have something to share with you that you may or may not find a little disturbing- someday- if he hasn't already- your husband WILL will put on your underwear when you're not looking. I know this is a fact because it happened to me last night.
I'm preparing for a trip to Vegas this coming week (Mandalay Bay topless pool, flesh colored duct tape and a pitcher of pina coladas here I come!) and I need a bronzer. Not self tanner. I'm deathly allergic to the ingredient in ALL self tanners called 'dihydroxyacetone' or as I lovingly call it 'itch-the-fuck-out-of you-and-make-you-want-to-scratch your-effing-eyeballs- outacetone' and I'm on the hunt for a bronzer that will last through swimming and sweating, but will wash off with soap. And also not turn me orange. I found one from Victoria's Secret this year, but while my shopping instinct (which is never, ever wrong, people) strongly encouraged me to buy more than one bottle, I convinced myself that there would be plenty the next time I went to the mall and that I should spend my extra money on Dippin' Dots. That, my friends, was possibly the worst shopping decision made by anyone in the history of the world. Because it's gone. And I mean ALL gone.
I experimented with several bronzers last night, layering, drying each layer with a hair dryer, buffing the mixture until I thought it was nearly perfect when I decided to surprise Frank with a little view of my brand new tanned self in my brand new Vegas undies. I just want to insert here that I never, ever call women's undergarments 'panties'. It's creepier than clown porn and cartoon porn rolled into one. I also want to add that bronzers cover a MULTITUDE of sins including the sin that instead of doing the aptly named 'Insanity' workout you promised to do every day last week, you ate Krispy Kreme donuts and watched the DVD waiting for the workout dude to take his shirt off. And that's a very large and lumpy sin. folks.
Frank was mildly impressed .
Frank: Why are you in your underwear walking around the house on your tippy toes?
Me: I want to show you my new Vegas tan and my new Vegas undies but I need high heels to make me look thinner. See? (up on tippy toes) Now I'm taller and thinner! (not on tippy toes) Now I'm short and fat. It's like fucking magic!
Frank: silently returns to watching television
I decided to put on my real jammies and head to dreamland for yet another test of my new bronzer. The 'Holy Shit It's All Over My White Sheets Test', and was nearly there when Frank came into the bedroom. He was doing a perfect imitation of me walking around on my tippy toes, except he looked like a total boob doing it...ahem. And he was wearing my underwear.
There are very few moments in life when something render me speechless. This was one. I have nothing more to say except that somebody is taking someone to the fancy underwear store today for for new undies. Because you just can't recover from that shit.
I also want to add that I had to Google images of DJ Ashba, Joey Jordison and Piggy D for about an hour to burn the image from my brain. My hubby is damn sexy, but black lace is just NOT his color!