Saturday, April 17, 2004

I was leaning over the sink.

I'd taken off my shirt and was washing my face. We went out tonight and I decided, in a rather out of character move, to wear makeup. When I wear makeup, I break out, so I try to wash it off as quickly as possible, and tend to do so in an apologetic way. I splash warm water on my face, then soap it up, then rinse. Then I soap up again and scrub with a washcloth. Then, if I wore mascara, I use eye makeup remover, then rinse off with the washcloth. Then I pat dry and apply moisturizer.

So I was standing there, in my jeans and bra. My fat little belly was hanging over the waistband of my jeans. I'm pretty skinny, but there is nothing even resembling muscle tone anywhere on my body.

Will was sitting on the toilet. Not using it as anything but a seat, just sitting there, watching me.

I asked him why.

He admired the way my breasts looked - larger than usual, but held in by my bra. He commented on my belly. He wondered if he would find it attractive if we had just met and this was the first time I'd had my shirt off in his presence. Before I could figure out what I thought about that, he decided that now, it is sexy. Because I am his wife (I argued that one). Because I am going to be the mother of his children (I glowed and blushed). Just because.

It's pointless, it's private. I just didn't want to forget.