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A Sense of Beauty

Two professional women: both married with kids and both juggling clients, reports, potty training, packed lunches, chores, dogs, cats, errands, husbands and …”what was that you said? SEX?”
That three-letter word that once was so frequent, so liberating, so yummy has been sidelined in a sea of life, work and snot.
It is time.
Time to put sex back on a pedestal by injecting some extra spice into our relationships.

A Sense of Beauty

Fat Feet

My sister dubbed them “thankles”, claiming I had moved beyond cankles.

Mr. Lee and I got dolled up last weekend to go to a fancy schmancy wedding while my mother-in-law babysat. He wore his vintage Versace tie his mother gave him, and I wore my best jewels, which his mother had also given me. I got my nails done, indulging in the fancier “milk and honey” pedicure at Nail Tech in the hopes that after dancing my tail off to Sasha Fierce, Mr. Lee would be willing to massage my aching dogs. Usually my feet are horrific when I’m pregnant – see exhibit A.

I kind of pride myself on my feet, it’s the one part of my body that has consistenly received compliments throughout my life without deteriorating as I’ve aged. Sadly, I married a man who is grossed out by feet, but who believes he has beautiful feet for a man. I think his look like he’s a Baggins. And though I’ve succeeded in getting him to do many things he wouldn’t otherwise do – try to buy Fifty Shades of Gray, have a third child, have a fourth child, sext – he refuses to rub my feet. It’s kind of the great tragedy of my life.

But that night, we looked fabulous, and we went to the wedding primed for happiness and love after a long and exhausting week. It delivered on all counts – not only because I managed to down five crabcakes within five minutes of walking into the reception, but also because the ceremony was so sincere.

At our wedding, the officiant read the scripture from Ruth that reads “for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.” Another friend at another fabulous wedding years later flattered me by using the same scripture in hers. The officiant on Saturday brought the same spirit, opening with a wish that everyone would leave the wedding with a sense of beauty. He was funny, he was invested in the couple, and he, in a very meaningful and relatable way, said everything good about marriage (including quite a few references to procreating that the parents’ had to have requested). It also helped that the couple looked like they should have been atop a wedding cake (she was wearing a Monique Lhullier gown that bears my real name), and that so many people we loved were there.

After enjoying the evening fully and almost pulling my hip out of joint on the dance floor, we came home to what I thought was a guaranteed foot massage – dancing at 30 weeks pregnant deserves something, right? However, after catching up with my mother-in-law and getting ready for bed, it was all we could do to keep our eyes open. No touchy that night.

The next few days were packed with a sick baby, work catch-up (I was out sick and chaperoned the zoo field trip last week), a needed trip to Benihana (I haven’t cooked in a decade), and our team soccer party. But tonight, Mr. Lee and I finally got some quiet time. I had downed three popsicles for my dinner (another trip to Family Dollar had me returning with four boxes of ice cream, one package of Little Debbie snack cakes, and a 50-count package of heartburn medicine), Mr. Lee was getting ready to turn in before working tonight, and the kids had discovered a ladybug in the backyard.

As he was loading clothes in the washer, I came up behind him to find what squeezies he had hatched on his back, and let my hands move to the soft tickling he adores, which gave him goosebumps. I followed him to the bedroom, where he lay on his stomach, and I proceeded to give him a bona fide back massage as I watched the kids happily carrying out a game of army while dusk set-in.

I considered proceeding to the next level, but thought of how nice it would be to just once in your life get a back massage and go straight to sleep. So, I finished, closed the shutters and shut the door, then clicked the air conditioning down two degrees. I went on to handle the kids while I let my sweet husband enjoy the undeniable pleasure of good and relaxing sleep.

The satisfaction of giving that to him left me with a real sense of beauty – about our relationship, what matters in life, our children, our war zone backyard and Texas in springtime. It also left me with the sense of hope that my red toes just might inspire him yet.

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  1. […] by the bedazzled stripper shoes the Duchess wore to the fancy schmancy wedding, we want you to buy and wear something this week simply because it makes you feel pretty. Scratch […]

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