Blogs
Pillow talk
At three a.m., I heard my husband wake up to go to the bathroom. When he came back to bed, I could feel his usual flipping of the covers, and he sighed deeply. Then I heard him say, "Do you think I should cut my hair?" He was silent for a few minutes. Then another deep sigh. "I am so tired lately. Maybe it's my thyroid." Silence… sigh. "I really should join that gym," he said. Silence, a sigh.
I started to giggle under the covers, and told him to stop.
"Have you noticed that my teeth are getting whiter?" Sigh.
"I only ask that to see if my whitening strips are working," I protested.
"Why did I eat those potato chips?" he continued. Silence… sigh. "Do you think my legs are getting fatter?"
"Now stop!" I told him. "I really think I'm getting chubby." Why was I listening to him at 3 a.m. anyway?
"I really have to get my hair cut," he continued. Silence… sigh.
"So you agree I need a haircut? Maybe I should try a new color, too?" I asked. This piqued my interest. I am never too tired to talk about my hair.
"My nails are a mess. French manicure or pink and white?" he continued. Silence… sigh. I started to drift off, but then he started again. "Oh, these hormones! Maybe I should stop taking them." Silence and two big sighs.
Okay, so I do say that one a lot.
"I need a nap." Silence, he yawned.
I was starting to feel sleepy and yawned, too.
"Maybe I should leave my hair long." Silence, and a sigh. "Oh, I need more wrinkle cream." Silence… big sigh.
"Thanks for reminding me," I told him and smacked him.
"Does my face look old?" Silence… sigh.
I put the pillow over my head.
"Maybe I should do Zumba." He was silent for a long time… two sighs. "I am just so confused lately!" Silence… loud sigh.
It sounded like he was winding down. By four a.m., he had covered every possible thing I've said.
Who knew he was listening?
- Anne Bardsley
Anne Bardsley, of St. Petersburg, Fla., is the author of How I Earned My Wrinkles, a collection of humorous and sentimental stories about marriage, motherhood and menopause. She lives in a menopausal world with a husband who gives her wrinkles. When people ask her age, she sometimes tells them her bra size. "36-C," she says, "was a wonderful age."