Last night, my husband made a startling admission to me. No, he didn't admit to alien abduction or something illegal or immoral. But if you just knew him, you'd know how completely out of character this was.
What was this stunning admission?
He put lotion on his hands.
You heard me right -- he actually lotioned his hands. This from a man who has dared to laugh at me every winter as I slather on the Eucerin, massaging it deep into my cold-chapped hands, healing the wounds of winter. Every time he has caught me doing this, he always comments, "If you didn't do THAT your hands would toughen up like mine!"
Apparently the hard work of chicken farming, welding, and loading in a show in the dry brittle air has turned his thick hands into flexible loofahs. Oh, how the mighty have fallen...
And then, in a hoarse whisper, he continued.
"And... I used Chapstick."
THAT was almost enough to send me into preterm labor, let me tell ya. My darling cannot stand lipstick/lip gloss/Chapstick and will go so far as wiping my kisses away if I am wearing a lip treatment because he "hates the slimy feel."
Something tells me I'm gonna have to check his toenails for polish when he's asleep tonight...