Thursday, December 09, 2004

Shake What Yo Mamma Gave You

One of the top reasons people yell at me is because I am a slow dresser. When I was a kid and my mother would drag me through some department store desperately seeking an outfit that we could both agree wasn't totally gross, she always complained about how long it took me in the dressing room. Now that I'm a grown woman and I drag myself through the mall, it's my husband who complains, every morning. Every single morning.

Now I will admit to being a dawdler. I like to take my time, and I have learned that for the most part, the world will wait for me. I have a cute look that I reserve just for these occasions, and it works like a charm. Except in the morning, Jason is usually standing at the door screaming 'Let's go!' and various get-your-ass-moving statements, so he can't see my look since I'm still naked in the bedroom. And by the time he comes careening back into the bedroom to yell at me in person (as if that ever works!) and finds me sitting around half-dressed at best, he's in no mood for my looks. The thing is, I can usually get my underclothes on okay, and then I get stuck. I sit down and daydream. If I don't have a really great reason to kick into high-gear, I won't. I'm not a morning person. If I have to be awake before noon, don't expect me to be happy about it.

So when Jason comes steaming back into the room, chances are I haven't even considered what I should wear that day, let alone how to do my hair, or what shade of lipstick to select. I can't even match my bra to my panties! I am likely to be sitting there in my red duckie thong and a white lace bra. What am I thinking?!? I'm too tongue-tied to reason with him. He's too impatient to listen anyway. So I have only one option left (ladies, you know what I'm talking about). This morning, for example, I sat on him, and shook my boobies in his face for like 5 minutes straight. Yeah, it's a last resort, but it's never failed me yet. Suddenly he has no memory of why he was hurrying. The man who was yelling at me to hurry the hell up is now stripping down himself and sliding back into bed.



{illyria} said...

wahahahahaha! too funny! i love it when this happens. sex, or at least the promise of it, works like a charm. here's to the twins!

Harry said...

Tarnation! A woman who respects her (is it?) husband! How damn refreshing!!!

Jay said...

Well, you don't have to match. Boys are happy enough just to be seeing any sort of panty-action at all, and if they have their way, it will soon be just another heap on the floor anyway. I think matching is just for our own peace of mind. Just so long as you're not pulling the whole Bridget-Jones-granny-panties, you'll be just fine.

Anonymous said...

Ewww granny panties. I know, I know, some days you just want to be comfortable. Need to be comfortable, even. But for the love of god, get yourself some reasonable Fruit of the Looms. Granny panties are just so unnecessary, and bad for the self-esteem.