Move Aside, Fiona!
Yesterday we went to my father's house for dinner. Nothing special, just dinner and drinks with the family. So about an hour or so before we left I started getting ready. I showered, I got dressed, I put on my deodorant. Then I combed my hair, brushed my teeth and started putting on make up. When I was done, I blow dried my hair and pulled out my flat iron. At which point, the following conversation ensued:
Hubby: "You know we're just going to your dad's, right?"
Me: "Yes, but I never get out anymore so I decided to look somewhat presentable." Hubby: "It's not that big of a deal."
Me: "I know."
My interpretation of this conversation went something like this."
Hubby: "What the hell are you doing?"
Me: "Trying not to look like an ogre."
Me: "Because I feel like an ogre."
Hubby: "Well I'm used to you looking like an ogre."
Me: "Fuck you."
Hubby: "No thanks, you look like an ogre."