 I follow him into the bedroom with the intention of putting my
makeup on while surreptitiously spying on him through my mirror.
Will it be Scooby-Doo or Popeye today?My husband has a variety of
boxer shorts that tend to reveal his mood. I'm not sure if he
dresses to suit his mood or if his mood is dependent on the shorts
he chooses to wear. Whatever the case, I noticed some behavioral
changes that coincide with each pair of shorts he owns. Call it
coincidence if you will. I call it odd.
He tends to be a little full of himself when he's wearing his
Popeye shorts. It's as if he's just downed a can of spinach as he
struts around with the attitude printed on his boxers: "I yam what I
yam!" What is he? Arrogant.
Nope, it's not Popeye today. Good, because in the mood I'm in,
Popeye doesn't stand a chance -- spinach or no spinach.
It's not the shorts that have "The Twilight Zone" printed on the
butt either. I think it says something in the front, too, but I
don't know what it says. When he wears "The Twilight Zone," it means
he's mad at me. I'm only allowed to see his butt as he reaches down
to pull his pants up. As I stare at "The Twilight Zone," it's like
he's telling me, "You'll never know the secrets that hide in the
Twilight Zone unless you make nice."
Uh-oh... it's the Grinch boxers. I gave them to him one Christmas
a few years ago, and he wears them when he's "trolling." In essence,
he's asking me if I'm in the mood. The Grinch is holding a sprig of
mistletoe in the front just below his waistband.
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 I'll look away and pretend I didn't see that strange green
creature that probably came out of Dr. Seuss' nightmares. I want to
get the kids to school on time, you know. But he'll probably still
be wearing them tonight.
At least he's not wearing the silky Scooby-Doos. Those are hard
to resist. Who'd have thought that a cartoon dog with a speech
impediment would have the ability to turn me on. He doesn't know it,
though, because if I told him, those underwear would never make it
to the laundry. That certainly would make their appeal less likely.
He does the same reconnaissance when I choose my sleepwear for
the night. The flannel nightgown means "Not now, maybe not ever."
The silky jammies mean "Maybe, but you'll have to work for it." If I
go to bed naked, it means... well... you probably already know what
that means.
One night all my jammies were in the wash and I had spilled
something on the last remaining pair. I stood beside the bed, stark
naked, trying to look bored, asking him for one of his long T-shirts
to wear to bed.
Good thing he was wearing his faded flamingo flannels or it could
have been a long night. The Grinch would never have let me get away
with that.
[Text from file received from Laura
Snyder]
You can reach the writer at
lsnyder@lauraonlife.com. Or visit
www.lauraonlife.com for
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