Married life is tough. You either need tact or be really good at lying. I have neither skill. Ask any one who knows me. I have not only stuck my foot in my mouth on several occasions but I have shoved down my throat far enough to pull it back out my ass and stand on it again.
Tonight was one of those nights.
Tom decided that he was going to make “his” meatloaf. As opposed to “my meatloaf that I never make the same way twice.I was totally okay with this. Tom is a pretty fair cook and I always apperciate a break from any mundane chore.
Tom lovingly made his meatloaf while I was sleeping. I woke up shortly after he put it in the oven. I never even bothered to check his work. He’s a big boy and I’m not his mommy.
I KNOW, RIGHT! You don’t even need to tell me, I was there.
I already knew I wasn’t going to eat it. I had it all planned out. I got everyone’s plates ready and was going to tell Tom that I wasn’t hungry if he asked any questions. It was a good solid plan.
Tom helped me get dinner to the table ( very rare) and started to count plates. He asked where mine was and wasn’t I going to to eat it and I choked, almost literally. I panicked.bells and whistles and alarms went off in my head as I stammered. My answer was not quite what I had planned. It was more along the line of ” It’s scary”. Actually that’s exactly what I said.
Foot, Mouth, no need to formally introduce you two, we’ve been here before.
Not only did I say that but I proceeded to defend my position even further degrading my sweet husband. I’m a fantastic wife, aren’t I!!!! I just kept ramming my foot further down my throat until I was at least up to my knee.
I know it’s been a while so, Knee meet Mouth, Mouth this is Knee.
At this point the semi-smart person would SHUT THE HELL UP! A smart person would have never said a word in the first place. I’m apparently neither. No I’m definitely not.
Case in point. I proceeded with my little defense case to the point of telling my now seething and wounded beloved that salt and pepper and ground beef does NOT make a meatloaf. It’s a hamburger in loaf form.
And there it is folks! I just shat my foot out of my ass and am parading around like I’m Miss Fraking America! I wonder if the circus will take me in because this is truly a sight to see.
Thankfully, my last remaining braincell took over and I finally put a sock in it.
To make matters worse, I had posted a status update pertaining to Tom’s hard work.
To make matters worse, I checked facebook after dinner ( because I’m a bit obsessive) and my very good friend Amy had posted this just for me.
It was perfect! I didn’t even have to play the clip. I laughed so hard I almost peed myself. I was laughing right up until I felt Tom walk up behind me and read over my shoulder.
I think he knew what scene it was too.
My only brain cell was still in control and walked me into another room.
The next hour or so was filled with a boat load of awkwardness. Lots of it. I was never so relieved to see Tom leave for work even if I didn’t get my usual kiss good bye.
For the record I did apologize at one point and it was promptly and summarily dismissed. I earned that. I also told Tom that I expected him to be honest with me about my cooking. I’m sure he’ll use that one early and often. I earned that too.
I’m an ass, plain and simply. If anyone knows of a good doctor that can put my foot back where it belongs let me know. They can sew my mouth shut while they’re at it so I can’t do it again and lose weight at the same time. If not some one find me an agent because I’m sure I could make money off this freak show.