I’m a husband. Part of my job is guarding my wife’s self-esteem against the slings and arrows of popular PhotoShopped culture.
Skeletons with hair extensions and breast implants posing on magazine covers in the check-out line at Kroger. Movie stars and rock stars in tight jeans, small shirts, blown up and smiling their perfect white smiles on big screens. And my own children, seeing their mother’s legs for the first time this Summer at a swimming pool.
“Look at ‘em, Gresham!” Gabriella shouted. “She’s white like…like the Snow Queen!”
At least I turned away when I laughed.
yep, turn away and duck…
Exactly why jeans are a German girl’s best friend.
See, this brings up a dilemma I’ve always had. I remember reading this book by a Dr. John Holzmann. It was a pretty good read, and I learned a lot from it, and strove to try and be fair in my relationships with others, but an outgrowth of the book, that I’ve often struggled with is being consistent with compliments. At times when my wife asks me how she looks, sometimes I throw out the habitual “fine.” Now I realize that if I’m not looking at her and actually appear to be making an effort to be honest with her she’ll pick up on it in five seconds flat, but I’ve always struggled with that issue. How can I tell the woman I loved and married that she looks beautiful every day, and the significance of the saying not become diluted? It would never be my intent to make her believe that I don’t think she’s beautiful, but I’ve found myself sometimes sliding into that rut of giving the standard answer of “fine.” or just nodding my head as in agreeing that she looks presentable or some such. I caught myself the other day about to say fine, and I realized that no, that’s not a fair answer today, but before I could stop the tongue, there it was out again.
Even in a language like english with so many synonyms it seems like the standard compliments get reused over and over again, so much that I wonder if they’ve lost their effectiveness, or perhaps seem watered down as that’s what I always seem to say.
What do you guys think? How do you keep your spouse on his/her toes without falling into such a rut?
Acoustic guitar, my friend. There’s power in the acoustic guitar.
Glad to know I’m not the only person who’s white like a ghost! Or the Snow Queen. Either one.
“At least I turned away when I laughed.”
lol.
Eh, she can at least tan. I’m about a half shade darker than albino (for real, I was comparing myself with one on the subway the other day). I don’t tan. I burn. Then I peel. Like bark.
The kids at the lake used to say “Here comes Milk!” when I’d walk by them. It used to bother me but it hasn’t for a long time.
I’m never going to become tall or tan so I just go with what I’ve got–short, squat and Celtic. I’m less ‘leading lady’ and more ‘character actor.’
Better pale and pasty than risking melanoma.
Or so I tell those who are temporarily blinded by my white legs. I could do pants all summer in NY, not so much here in TN.
Our oldest daughter Kelly is known as the “pasty white English girl” in our family. Same problem as Nancy; burn, peel, return to white. She recently rediscovered this on our recent vacation. I used to spend most of my growning up summers outdoors and trying to get a “good” tan. Now I’m a major reason sunscreen sells so well.
As for you Shaun, I have a feeling that there will be no “business” meeting this Wednesday.
Beth
No mortal male can successfully pull off a turn-and-laugh. Ten bucks says Becky saw you anyway and slapped you upside the head for good measure.
K@LW -
That’s why the “Turn and Duck” is essential!
I can totally sympathize with your wife. On our summer vacation, the 5 girl cousins with me inherited the darker skin and tan in the tanning bed. Then out comes me, practically blinding everyone in the summer sun with my bright white skin. It’s really obvious in the pictures too. Oh well! 50 sunscreen and no wrinkles for me thank you!
Shaun – Yep, the turn-and-duck is essential in the male repetoire.
Bekah – Hehehe…this sounds like what happened at my cousin’s wedding a few years back. It was a quick wedding, and I got asked at the last minute, ostensibly because the groom had more groomsmen. My cuz and her thin-as-a-rail friends had all made trips to the tanning bed. And there I am in black satin, looking like Morticia Addams. But I refused to bow to the bed of tan. I’ll keep my health and be semi-translucent, thank you very much.
She’s totally onto you, and I think you and your chuckle owe her a vacation to some tropical locale. All in the name of protecting her self-esteem, I mean.