I need some help. I need a bathroom.
Out of six that require glasses to read, drive, and guide forks to the appropriate orifice I am the only one who still wears good old fashioned spectacles. The rest are far too good looking to hide their fair complexions behind the coke-bottle lenses myopia requires. And so they stand before the mirror, blinking and frowning and poking their eyeballs twice a day. The rest of us pace outside the bathroom. I'm not getting mixed up in the whole contacts thing. I don't feel the need to be fabulous. In the words of George Lopez, "I'm married now. I don't care what I look like". I think he said that. Maybe not. Whatever.
My wife has had a bit of a transformation as of late. As I have previously posted, she has lost somewhere near a gazillion pounds and fits into the dress size she wore on our wedding day. She let her hair grow out and got it styled. She wears clothes that compliment her figure. For a body that gave birth to nine bouncing babies, she looks pretty darn good. The contacts were the last addition to a lovely transformation.
Me? Well, luckily, she thinks chubby is cute.
I would like to lose a few pounds, though. Okay, ninety but let's not nitpick. I have stopped drinking soda pop at work, am developing the habit of taking the stairs instead of the elevator (thank God I work in a small building), and recently initiated drinking two full glasses of water prior to eating. Someone said it will make me eat less. So far it just makes me need to go more. Hence my problem.
Vanity. Makes me need the bathroom and keeps me out.