In honor of Mother's Day, an encore homage to the woman who birthed the love of my life and nurtured him into the man he has become. She is also known as my Mother-in-Law, the Butcher of Milwaukee.
And, she is going to kill me for telling this MTM-inspired story.
My husband was slow. I mean, REALLY slow. We dated almost three months before MTM held my hand. When most men were trying to bed me on the first date, my future mate seemed............disinterested in my lady bits.
It. Drove. Me. Mad.
Fat legs. Jiggly legs. Cottage cheese legs. Saddle bag legs. Blinding white legs. Sometimes, hairy legs. This week, sore legs.
But hey. I'm glad I've GOT legs.
So glad, in fact, that I asked MTM to buy me that bastion of 1980's fashion: a pair of leggings. Black, to slim the possible fattening effect on my mid-life appendages.
I am not a Rotarian, officially, so I can't possibly be accused of broadcasting an electronic Rotary Kool-Aid acid test. But I am lucky enough to be married to a committed and enthusiastic Rotarian
It was driving her crazy that I wouldn't open her box. She had wrapped it more simply than usual, as if its minimalism would entice me to set aside my usual reserved nature and rip it open to behold her gift.
But I wouldn't succumb.