“You look beautiful!” I told my wife on Saturday night as she was about to head out to see a comedy show with a girlfriend.
“I want contacts!” she said by way of thanks. It’s a demand I hear around here every couple of months.
“But I like you wearing glasses,” I countered. “You’ve got that whole sexetary thing going on.”
“Then why is it when I’m not wearing them you always tell me I look beautiful?”
Only a woman can turn a compliment like “you look beautiful” into a shit fight.
“I always tell you you look beautiful, with or without your glasses, but you’re focusing on it now because you hate me because you don’t have contacts.”
But she was earnest. “Look!” she said, facing our mirror. “Without my glasses my face looks so much younger.”
Now because I wasn’t married yesterday I know the correct responses to these sorts of ‘discussions’, although I admit it took me a couple of years to work out the safe path through this beautiful mine field.
“That’s because when you’re not wearing your glasses you can’t see all the wrinkles.”
Hey, just because I know the correct responses doesn’t mean I have to use them – and I was the silly sod staying home with the monkeys while she was going out to play so I think I can be forgiven for having a little fun.
Actually the biggest problem with Tracey’s glasses is our heads are disproportional (so much so, when our lips are together my nose is at her eye level) and I smudge her glasses with my huge honker when we kiss. Come to think of it, I might even be able to argue glasses are better than contacts on a workplace health and safety platform – without the glasses my nose might poke an eye out.
Ignoring me now, Tracey went into the lounge room and asked the kids, “How do I look?”
The cry went up – “Beautiful!” But it wasn’t unanimous.
“Come here, Mum,” said Master7, making her drop down to his level. “Take your glasses off.,” he instructed. When she complied he nodded sagely. “Yeah, that’s better. Now you’re beautiful!”
Thanks, mate. The cost of contacts is coming out of your pocket money.
“After the show we might even go dancing,” Tracey said as she stood up. “I’ll have to see if I’ve still got the moves.”
Suddenly it occurred to me these bars and nightclubs are full of blokes! Young, randy blokes full of testosterone and beer! I know – I used to be one.
“Here, Tracey,” I told her as she headed out the door. “Put your glasses on. I’d hate for you to stub your toe on the dance floor.”