Making his Dreams come true

As it was my husband's birthday yesterday, he got to choose where we dined for his celebratory dinner. With a little whining, and prodding, wouldn't you know, he picked my favorite restaurant. It's a nice little place; great Cajun cuisine. It was a win-win for everyone involved, because I got to eat my favorite food and my hubs got to ogle the girls who work at the Hooters across the street. See how everyone walked away happy?

After our dinner, the hubs decided he wanted to take me shopping. I know, shocking, a man who likes to shop. You see, dear internet, my hubs is a wily fox. After downing numerous beer and ogling the chickies from Hooters, he was getting himself in the mood. I did promise after all, that Mr. Pickle may be able to play. My hubs was intent on making that promise a reality.

So a stroll through the local mall ensued. Where my husband would proceed to drag me into every swimsuit shop and lingerie boutique he could find. We have a pool and I haven't bought myself a suit in over four years. Apparently, my man is tired of looking at the demure, blue flowered one piece I currently own. I discovered he would much rather prefer to see me in a pink string bikini, where my arse can sag and my flabby white thighs can wiggle like jello. And A-cups. Of course they are meant to be shoved under flimsy pieces of fabric with no support. Nothing like rolling up the ole beaver tails...

But as it was my hubs birthday and this is what he wanted to do, I played along and modeled the suits he would choose for me. Imagine me struggling to squeeze into these numbers under the fluorescent lights only to come out to twirl around for my darling. Apparently, my sniggering and sarcastic remarks, along with my white socks which I refused to remove, made it hard for him to get in the mood. Poor baby.

In the end, I walked away with two new suits, a lovely red gingham number and the pink string bikini which will never see the light of day. But when my hubs was wandering, I managed to sneak in something special for him. His very own Speedo. And it is sparkly. Silver and black. He hasn't seen it yet, but I imagine Mr. Pickle will fit snug as a bug in it.

The day he insists I wear that silly string bikini will be the day I haul out his new Speedo. It will either kill his wet dreams, or we will be the tragic couple on the beach, with both our bellies hanging loose and our pasty white skin advertising our Redneck ways. I warn you now: Cover your eyes!