Love and delusion; keeping them alive

My husband, bless his dear wee soul, is convinced that his beloved wife is a dear, wee soul.

Emphasis on the wee.

Let me explain by saying that my husband often buys clothes for me. He has great taste and has picked out some really cool clothes. Clothes that I love. Stylish clothes.

Small clothes.

One of the reasons I love my husband is that he can walk into a clothing store, see a cutting-edge outfit designed for an emaciated Eastern European model and displayed on a size zero mannequin and think, without a sober second thought, My wife would really rock that outfit.

Sigh.

Last month for my birthday he dropped a wad of cash on a handful of items from a very high-end boutique. He came home with a funky belt and necklace as well as a clingy black shirt with a leather collar and a gorgeous,clingy cashmere sweater.

Emphasis on the clingy.

He was very enthused about how the shirts were displayed in the store. They were with really skinny black jeans, like the pair I got you for Christmas last year, he said. They looked amazing.

I'm sure they did. I'm sure there wasn't a love handle in sight on that 14-pound display mannequin. And I'm equally sure that were I once again 18 years old, I would indeed be rocking the skinny-jean-clingy-top combo like there was no tomorrow.

But I'm not 18 years old. And I'm a solid 135 pounds. So, I smiled brightly, thanked him profusely and tried to figure out how the hell I would get any use out of these admittedly-fabulous shirts.

First, just for laughs, I tried on both with the aforementioned skinny jeans. The bulging - OH MY GOD THE BULGING.

After splashing water on my singed eyeballs, I tried pairing them with a few other things in my closet keeping in mind fashion rule number one for those of us who are not the aforementioned emaciated Eastern European model type. That rule is; tight and clingy may only be paired with loose and forgiving.

I managed to come up with a few possibilities that might work if I accessorized carefully and committed to sucking in my stomach at all times.

And then I remembered my very own mother's little helper: Spanx.

For the uninitiated: right up there with fashion rule one about how to wear tight clothes are fashion rules two, three and four: Spanx, Spanx and SPANX. I got my ample butt onto E-bay and ordered this post haste.

At some point in the future, I will devote an entire column to the wonders of Spanx, but for now suffice to say it is the only way I can (every begin to possibly) get away with a lot of the clothes my husband picks out for me.

But that's okay.

Under normal circumstances, I am the first to say that women should never, never NEVER try and get away with clothes that are designed for a body younger or slimmer than theirs. But sometimes the way your husband looks at you is more important than the way anyone else looks at you. And sometimes proudly wearing the clothes that your husband picked out for his young hottie is more important than any fashion rule.

And that is why I will wear the great clothes he buys me. I will choose my accessories carefully, I will suck in my stomach like there's no tomorrow and I will remain a sucker for every new incarnation of Spanx that appears on the market.

And among all the other things I am thankful for, I will count my blessings that when my dear, deluded husband looks at me, he still sees the wee young thing that caught his eye and captured his heart a decade ago.

Comments

[Jana]

You have an awesome husband! Spanx sounds like the eighth wonder of the world.

[Gabriella]

I found some Spanx at the Winners at Yonge & Sheppard but didn't buy them but this is the third time I've heard of their miraculous powers so I think I may head on back and pick one up.

[Her Bad Mother]

I've never tried them, either... maybe after this pregnancy. Or do they do maternity spanx? That would rock.

[nomotherearth]

Ha! Maternity Spanx. That made laugh.

My husband doesn't buy me clothes at all. He's too afraid.

He should be.