Last night when I left the house That Husband was still away on business so I did something crazy.
I wore purple tights.
And I put my hair up all messy and crazy.
To me, these things represent what it was like when I was single. When I was single I could dress and look the way only I wanted, all the time. That Husband doesn’t “make” me dress any certain way, but I know he prefers it. I’ve written before about his distaste for red lipstick and red high heels, and now you know how he doesn’t like colored tights either.
Some might say I am repressing who I am to be with him, but I don’t think of it that way. Yes, I get dressed and try to look good for myself, but in many ways I do it for him too. I am his, and he is mine, and knowing he likes the way I look still makes me feel a little bit prickly inside.
So I keep my purple tights (and my sparkly gold ones too) tucked away in a drawer, saving them up for a time when he isn’t around. Those are the times when I expirement a little bit. I put them on because I like checking to see if that fun single lady is still alive under this often boring married exterior.