Kevin made a triumphant return from Idaho on Friday so we celebrated our anniversary on Saturday. I actually got some kind of flu/cold thing the day before, but after having recently been pregnancy-sick for nine months, having the flu/cold felt like having a little furry kitten along with us on our date, by comparison.
We went out to dinner for our first baby-less date and I wore a dress that fit like a glove, especially if you realize at some point it’s your child’s glove you’re trying to fit on your own hand. Here you see me holding it in:
And here I was so enamored with my husband that I forgot an just let it go.
Now would be a great time to remind everyone that the only time it’s okay to ask a woman when her baby’s due is if she’s lying in a hospital bed with her legs up and a baby’s head at least partially protruding from between them.*
In this picture, one of us was making a big deal about the sun being in our eyes.
So the one who was making a big deal about sun in his eyes decided not to be in any more pictures and offered to take my picture instead.
Because nothing makes a woman feel classier than having her husband take her to a nice French restaurant downtown then snap a bunch of pictures of her asss.
The dress, you can see, was not only tight but also would magically shrink as I was walking. I timed it—every sixty steps I had to pull it back down into place. As I walked two miles in it, there was much adjusting.
But adjusting is one thing a couple does lots in nine years of marriage, so I guess the dress was perfect.
Even if it made this piece of garden art feel shameful.
*No, no one asked me if I was pregnant last night. Usually people tell me I look good for someone who just had a baby. I have a feeling that I will spend the rest of my life looking good…for someone who just had a baby.