Husband truly is a remarkable character. I am constantly amazed by the way his brain works (especially how he can manage to park 4 cars in our double garage and not dent anything, but that's a whole other story). I came to this new realization again after opening my Christmas presents to discover 2 beautiful sweaters that fit me perfectly and look great on me. I don't understand. I go clothes shopping and take racks of clothes in with me to try on, of which nothing fits (or looks nice for that matter) and he can go without the benefit of a scale model of me and pick clothes that do both.
While thinking about this for a while, I came to a few conclusions about how this is possible.
1. I am more critical of myself.
It's how we are as women... I guess perhaps I think that there are magical clothes out there that can make me look like Jennifer Aniston and when I try on clothes that make me look like... well ME (with all the help that flourescent lighting and mirrors so close that you can't help but put all the focus on your thighs) I am somewhat disappointed.
2. I am more critical of the price tags.
How many times have I left a change room thinking "That was a nice pair of $20 pants... unfortunately the sticker said $70, and there is no way in this green earth I will pay that much for pants, maybe I'll buy them when they go on sale for $20."
3. I look at the number on the tag, not the size of the clothes.
It's a common mistake I think most women make. Please join me in my 12 step program. I believe the numbers (admitting you have a problem is the first step). I choose clothes off the rack based on the number, not the shape. Husband, on the other hand looks at the shape, has no idea what number is on the rest of my clothes and goes based on visual. He actually gets annoyed when overzealous salespeople try to help him find the right size.
Husband sees me every day... the person I really am. He sees me in clothes and not in clothes (sorry mom, it's true), whether I am glammed up for a night out, or spending the day in my pjs and cutting my toenails. He probably knows how I actually look better than I do (especially since I stand up straighter and put my shoulders back whenever I look in the mirror).
I am deluded, and I'm pretty sure I don't like it. Maybe I should just get Husband to buy all my clothes. Maybe if I ask nicely, he'll just cut the tags off before giving them to me too.
When I was pregnant, Marc got me a shirt that was XXL (in maternity size). I was a little perturbed that he thought I was that big, so I went and exchanged it for a size M. It was way too small, but I wouldn't take it back and admit I was bigger. So never wore it. I'm with you on the cutting the tags out!
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