Stay Away From My Skinny Jeans!

For those of you who don't know Todd and I in person, we have both been on a years-long mission to lose weight. We have made an effort to eat healthy and to exercise more. It has paid off for both of us: I have lost over 35 pounds (still have more to go) and Todd has lost. . . well, I don't know how much weight he has lost, but he has gone down quite a few sizes. He looks great, and I am very proud of him. I am not proud of him because he looks good, but because he is healthy, and I think I might want to keep him around for a few more years. I say, "I think" because yesterday morning, Todd came downstairs wearing this:

He came down the stairs with a cat-ate-the-canary look on his face, with a touch of sheepishness, and would not meet my eye. You may see nothing amiss. That is because the shirt fits him just fine. What is wrong with this picture? The shirt is mine.

It is my Hank Williams Disgraceland shirt, by Yee-Haw-Industries. Sure, it is way too big for me and I wear it with flannel pajamas around the house, or with shorts while working out in the yard, but it is mine. No husband of mine should be wearing my clothes. As my sister and I said over dinner at the EARL last night, where the fashionable and young hang out in their skinny jeans and Flock of Seagulls hair: I don't want to be with a man who is skinnier than I am.

Todd, I still can't fit into skinny jeans, but if I ever do, you better stay the hell away from them. I do not sleep with boys whose thighs are smaller than mine.