Today (actually, yesterday if I'm being specific) at Starbucks a woman approached my husband and told him he looked like Richard Gere. As of late, this is happening a lot. Previously, he's been compared to Tom Cruise but since acquiring a head full of gray hair, that comparison has been few and far between. I'm okay with that. I've never been a fan of Cruise and have no desire to see my husband sliding around the house in his underwear. Some things are just better left to the mysteries of love.
I'm not a huge fan of Richard Gere either. Yes, I find him attractive but the whole gerbil rumor has always kept him low on my "Hawt Man Meter". Currently Alex O'Laughlin (The Backup Plan, Moonlight, some stupid hospital show and currently, Hawaii 5 0-gawd his he freaking hawt!) tops my list. Next up is Rob Lowe who just gets better with age. He's like a nice bottle of Merlot. And I don't even like wine.
As for the bottom of my list, well, I just don't know. There are just too many men and too little room on the list, I guess. Anyway, my point is that Richard Gere just simply isn't on it. It's okay though. I don't find it at all insulting that my husband is being compared to him. He's attractive, has great hair and a nice smile. I can see the resemblance.
My husband has a great mix of salt and pepper in his hair. It's as if some anal retentive colorist painstakingly frosted each and every strand individually to give it a textured, flowing look. Actually, it kind of pisses me off. I've got these nasty little gray hairs poking out all over my head at random and his flows like a freaking opera. If you ask me, it's just another reason to believe God is male. The man simply has great hair, no one can argue it. I spend hours blow drying, straightening, curling, scrunching, feathering, coloring, hi-lighting and analyzing my hair and my husband gets out of the shower, towel dries it, runs a dimes worth of gel through it with his fingers and is on to the next part of his day. (Reason number two in a long, long list of reasons Carolyn thinks God is male).
I'm not saying my husband is perfect because, though he might disagree, he's not. He's a little older now and gravity has started to catch up with his stomach just a bit. Not a lot but it's there, hiding under his shirts, daring to peek out ever so slightly. Thankfully for him, it's not obvious. I mean, when your face and hair shout Richard Gere to women walking by, who cares if you have a little extra in the middle, right? My middle's hit rock bottom. It's joined forces with my upper and lower and they've become one big blob. If God were female, I'm certain I'd be 5'10" and 110 lbs. Certain. He's male. I'm sure of it.
I confess to having a few lines around the eyes now and my cheeks don't seem to be as 'tight' as before. And yes, that can be said for both sets of cheeks but right now I'm talking about the ones falling just below my chin. I'm pretty sure I'm part Shar Pei. Just a tiny bit. My husband has wrinkles, too. He's got a forehead full of lines and when he smiles, his eyes crinkle in that sexy, "Come get me" sort of way. Mine bark for food.
God has taken an attractive young man, wrapped him up in a middle-aged man package and made him even yummier than before. He's aged him with grace and refinement. He's made him an almost 45 year old bottle of fine wine most women want to try, even if it gives them a headache (and trust me, he's good at that!) For me, he's taken an attractive woman, added hair growth in places hair is not meant to grow, taken hair away from places I'd like it to stay, dropped body parts unreasonable distances, added a 22 lb baby worth of extra 'stuff' and wrapped it up in a graying, wrinkling package with a lovely muffin top for good measure. In truth, with pre-menopause knocking on my door and menopause just around the corner, God is clearly turning me into...my father. So long estrogen, hello testosterone.
Thanks.
Most men age gracefully. Mine sure has. Women however, just get old. Proof positive God is male.
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