When Stephen and I were in college, we took a ballroom dance class. We hadn’t been dating long and Stephen declared that he would do anything for me. I put him to the test buying toe socks for him to wear to class. He accepted the challenge. Dancing in his colorful accoutrement, this normally docile man threatened everyone who dared challenge him: “don’t say a word”.
This is what Stephen’s feet looked like in dance class
After all these years, Stephen hasn’t changed. A couple of years ago, I found a bunny onesie for him from the movie A Christmas Story during an after-Christmas sale. Although he doesn’t wear it on a regular basis, he does pose for Kodak moments.
A man secure enough in his masculinity to be photographed in a bunny suit.
Thinking I was being nice, I recently found a great deal on a Frankenstein onesie with a hood Stephen could wear around the house. He pretended to like it when I gave it to him, but only wore it once claiming that the fabric was too light to keep him warm.
Puttin’ on the ritz
This year after Christmas, I found a chicken onesie that I knew was heavy enough to keep him warm; bonus – it had a hood.
Stephen wasn’t chicken about being a chicken
Soon after, I found a heavy fleece cookie monster onesie for only $5. Excitedly pointing out the wonderful bargain, I asked Stephen if he wanted it (knowing he would say yes). He muttered under his breath that he didn’t want to wear onesies. Stephen had been wearing ridiculous gifts from me for most of his adult life – starting with toe socks. Thinking years of silent compliance seemed more than enough, I hung cookie monster back on the rack. Now how to return the surprise onesie-matching toe socks…
May the farce be with you!
Your IFF,
Pam
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