Thursday, 5 April 2012

The un-sexiness of marriage


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I like to think of myself as a relatively attractive specimen. Not overtly sexy or beautiful but rather, fresh-faced with a complexion of an under-ripe peach. Mr H likes to think of me as cute or rather he did before we got married. That's the problem with entering into a committed relationship, you realise that you have the guy and he loves you without a doubt and so you can afford to become a bit lazy. Okay, I'm not saying I suddenly put on 50kgs, took up eating  lard cakes and wearing my slippers to the shops. No, I just, um, got a little complacent.

1)  Before I was married and living with Mr H, even for me as a good girl, underwear had to match. Now it's a miracle if I can find a clean bra. I'm pretty sure that my lingerie has gone through a messy divorce and half of it has scampered off somewhere leaving me to pick between the unfortunate but necessary 'period' pants and a piece of dental floss that I bought on a whim because obviously my butt was hungry that day.

2) Shaving my legs was a ritual performed with as much dedication as a scientist would give to finding a cure for cancer. If Mr H accidentally brushed against a bristle I would be mortified. I seem to have somewhat lost my fascination with a hair-free existence and have succumbed to being able to pretty much french plait my leg hairs. (Wow, I'm such a sexy beast)

3)  I remember in the very beginning of our dating life I couldn't bear the thought of Mr H seeing me eating. For every mouthful there would be a well-placed hand to conceal my chewing making me appear to be an ever so dainty maiden. Unfortunately, things have changed. If he can't see me enjoying that lasagne by the high-spin cycle erupting in my mouth and the small dribble of tomato sauce coursing down my chin then, to be honest, it's not worth it.

4) The myth that girls don't burp or fart or go to the toilet other than to powder their noses has been well and truly squashed. I prefer to be as transparent as possible these days, to what end, is another thing entirely.

By no means am I trying to put anyone off getting married, in fact, it's quite the opposite. Who really enjoyed having to spend hours every day trying to look 'rested' and 'refreshed' for their boyfriend that they were only seeing for 30mins? Don't get me wrong, I love getting dressed up and I still have a bottom drawer of sexy gear to impress but the time and energy spent on trying to be more refined and less, well, 'me' is long over now.

image from weheartit

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