I took a little break from #Write31Days this weekend. I had students over at the state hospital Thursday-Saturday, and my parents came over and watched the beasties so that the hubbs could come join me Friday night. The amazing thing is, they had planned to come over and stay with the kids on Saturday night so that we could go to a concert. This means that we had two, that’s right I said TWO dated nights!!!
I cannot tell you the last time we had a date night. No really. We were trying to remember the last movie we went to and came up blank. No idea. But this weekend, we had double! It was like finding an Oasis in the desert. I cannot express how important it is to have date nights, and this weekend was long over do. And we had a blast.
The first night we went to the most horrid Chinese food we’d ever eaten. For real. My cashew chicken tasted like chicken noodle soup that needed seasoning. But it didn’t matter because for the first time in ages, no one was needing their food cut or cooled off. There was no constant chatter beside and between us. It was so quiet! Then we went and saw Dracula. Because nothing says romantic date movie like a blood sucking monster! It was actually pretty good. And the popcorn was stellar and isn’t that really what matters when you go to the show?
Saturday night we went to the Dierks Bentley concert. Oh. My. Goodness. I had forgotten how fun concerts were!!! The opening band, Eric Paslay, was awesome and once Dierks got on stage the whole place came alive! There was only one problem-I was wearing jeans.
Why is this a problem, you ask? Well because I’m a little chubby right now, remember? I pulled on a pair of jeans I haven’t worn in AGES. And by pulled on, I mean I did the bend-and-squat routine to stretch them out about a thousand times. To get them up my thighs. Then came the button and zipper. Sucking it in as much as I could, I stretched and pulled and thought about using a hanger to leverage the zipper and then my husband walked in and let me tell you there is nothing sexy about doing the dance to the denim gods when you can’t get your jeans on. Fortunately all I got was a lifted brow and quizzical look before he left the room. Then it was back to the acrobatics. But success!! I got the stupid things on. Now my only worry was having to pee at some point during the evening. Thoughts of being in some random stall with my pants unbuttoned and no sign of closure became my new worst fear.
And I couldn’t breath. Or feel my knees. I’m pretty sure the circulation was gone. I told my hubby, as I tried to catapult myself into the truck (there was no bending, and that thing is high!) that if at any time during the night I passed out, just to unbutton my jeans. It would allow for blood flow to resume it’s normal course through my body. I made it through dinner, surprisingly unhungry-oh wait, no room for more-and then to the concert, where we sat in the most uncomfortable seats on earth. All I could think was please let the music start so I can stand up and not feel like I’m being sliced in two by the waistband of my pants.
Finally the band picked up and we were on our feet and had a great time. By the time we made it home, I couldn’t wait to put on my fat pants. Bot Bot met us at the door and looking me up and down asked “Are those new jeans?” Ha! Nope, you just don’t recognize them this tight.
But you know what? It doesn’t matter. my jeans were a little bit (or a lotta-bit) tight-but I had the best time with my man. And he doesn’t care if my pants hug a little tight in all the wrong places, he still thinks I’m beautiful. And you know what, so do I.