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I Love The Way You Call Me Baby

October 23, 2009

First, a little mood music for this blog post:

So, I have this sweater.

It’s grey with buttons. Think Mr. Rogers, sans pockets. I bought it about eight years ago while I was pregnant with Ava and my belly had outgrown pretty much everything in my closet.

I heart my sweater.

Brent on the other hand, is not fond of the sweater. He gazes at it with disdain whenever I wear it and mumbles “That’s not hot.” He has even dared to call it frumpy.

It is, admittedly, not the most stylish piece of clothing in my wardrobe–it’s old, pilling and is missing a button. But it keeps me warm, which is a sweater’s purpose in life. And I don’t wear it in public. Well… okay. It does make occasional appearances at the morning bus stop. But do a handful of second graders really count as public?

I’ve been trying for years to convince Brent that the sweater is NOT THAT BAD. I’ve tried many tactics:

  • “It’s my woobie.” He didn’t buy that, coming from a grown-up.
  • “It was a bargain! I got it at Sam’s Club for $10.99.” That didn’t help my case… AT ALL.
  • “What if I come to bed wearing nothing but the sweater?” Apparently the sweater does not turn him on in the least.

So here I am, advocating for my sweater, when it occurred to me that the reasons why I love my sweater are also the reasons why I love my husband:

1. It’s warm
2. It’s soft
3. It cleans up nicely
4. It looks great on me (Oh yeah! I went there.)
5. It feels like home

I heart my sweater.

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One Comment leave one →
  1. April 15, 2010 9:32 pm

    Without seeing your sweater, I think it’s just fine — and even cuddly. No matter what Brent says.

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