I walk into the bedroom. My hair hangs loose and messy around my shoulders. I clumsily push it up into a messy ponytail. Not one of those “messy” ponytails girls wear in public because they think it’s cute, but a legitimate messy ponytail. My eyes are pink and tired. I don’t wear makeup every day. Hell, I barely wear it once a month.
My torn tank top, that I refuse to throw away because it’s still comfortable, lays haphazardly on my body. My underwear has a small hole starting by the waist band, but again, I’m slow to buy new clothes. Below my underwear, my pink thighs jiggle a little as I walk toward the bed. My random bruises showing dark purple to a light yellow against the pink of my calves. I never know where they come from, I just seem to hit them off everything. One of them is a permanent spot on my shin from an accident long ago.
My nail polish is chipped and the acrylic is growing out. I’ll need to go get them done soon. My pink feet are rough from years of not getting pedicures and not doing my own. Calluses still left over from years of playing barefoot when I was young (and older, though much rarer now).
I yawn a loud, grumbling yawn and stretch, my plump stomach showing as my tank top rides up. The last five inches of my long, ugly, twelve-inch surgery scar shows as well. In my eyes, I’m the picture of imperfection. From my unshaven legs to the glasses perched on my nose.
I don’t feel pretty, I don’t look pretty. I’m just unwinding and getting ready for bed. There are no special tricks to this story. I really just don’t look cute.
And there he is, sitting on the edge of the bed watching me. We’ve been talking about the sinus infection I’ve had for the last week. About how gross my nose feels and how stuffed up I’ve been. And yes, Aunt Flo’s visit as well. No sexy pillow talk here. Just brutal truths about everyday life.
He is looking at me with those eyes. Those eyes are what made me really fall for him. He holds the truth of all in those eyes. He’s looking at me with that look. The one I can never quite understand. The one that makes me feel a little uneasy because I feel it’s underserved.
Then the words are falling out of his mouth, almost as a sigh. “You are so perfect.” I almost expected it. The way he was looking at me. He grabs my hips and pulls my body against him, his head falling softly against my chest.
“I’m not going anywhere. Do you understand that?” His question is muffled against my shirt. I don’t answer so he looks up and the truth is in his eyes. I nod my head slightly and he kisses me.
I posted this and the one before (A Mess of a Beauty) to express how lucky I am to have the husband I have. It really doesn’t matter if I am looking like crap or have spent an entire day trying to make myself look presentable, he always has the same reaction. It’s genuine. When I look into his eyes, I can see that he means every word. I am amazingly blessed to have him in my life.