I did something this morning that I’ve never been able to do in the nineteen years and ten months (minus three days) that I’ve been married to Carl: I fit into a pair of his jeans. While this may not sound like a big deal, it’s a monumental one for me.
So, why am I wearing his jeans? Because right now I only have two pair of Misses jeans that I can wear: both are new and unfaded, and I want to work out in the garage today, so wearing nice new jeans is out of the question. (My third pair of new jeans is damaged from my fall in the parking lot, and they need patching.) The pair of jeans of Carl’s that I’m wearing are worn and faded and suitable for garage-type work. I wasn’t able to ask permission to borrow his pants because Carl’s at work, but I don’t think he’ll mind.