I have something rather upsetting to say. I’ve begun wearing the same outfits as Wilson.
Yes, it’s true. Turns out, guys have a very easy and comfortable wardrobe, and I’ve been quite in to that lately. My mom said she read somewhere that the longer a couple has been together, the more they begin to resemble each other. Well, it’s happening. Case in point: Thanksgiving 2015. I dressed myself in my new flannel shirt tucked into jeans, a leather belt and comfy loafers. Because, after all, Thanksgiving needs to be comfortable and, well, forgiving. I thought I’d done a fine job at both of these objectives with my outfit until I came downstairs to find Wilson in the same freaking clothes. It was like I was looking into a mirror except I’d grown a tad taller and had a Natural Light in my hand.
What the *&^%.
It’s happening, I thought. We’ve been together nearly eight years and are already beginning to dress alike. Imagine what will happen when we are together for 40 years? Will we go to the same hairdresser and I’ll say, “I’ll have what he’s having?” In 50 years, will they even be able to tell us apart? We do, after all, have the exact same hair color. Mine has just been (thankfully) chemically altered to “blonde.”
Thanksgiving was certainly a day of giving thanks, and also one of questioning my life choices. Indeed, this flannel shirt-matching-my-husband business nearly stirred up an existential crisis at my ripe age of 28. What does it all mean if we are just going to be the same…
But alas, said crisis was averted thanks to dear ol’ Wilson. He jogged back upstairs and put on a pair of gray corduroys so I wouldn’t have a shit fit. He’s a kind soul, that Wilson. We still essentially wore the same outfit, but at least my fears of physical assimilation were quelled. For the moment.
Now undoubtedly SST is filled with hyperbolic stories and phrases (present prose included), but this flannel shirt really is killer. It’s also 30% off too.
See? We really did have on the same stupid outfit. So upsetting. I’m a hop skip and three years from shopping at L.L. Bean exclusively (have you seen those deals!?) and no one will read this blog unless they want to learn how to pull off menswear and in an all-too-real way. I cringe at the thought.
In other news, Birdie was spayed last week and has been royally pissed off ever since. I don’t think she minded the actual surgery, its the horror and embarrassment of the cone of shame she must wear for another four days that is really making her angry AF.
Do you see the look in her eyes? Pure unadulterated disgust. She probably thinks I look like Wilson too, and not in a good way.
Does anyone else think their dog judges them…