My husband and I were recently discussing which of his older sisters we think would be married first, Sarah (30) or Jennifer (28) honestly I see nothing wrong with not being married even by the time you’re 32, but I know it’s something they may think about quite often. Levi voted Jennifer would and though I agreed I wondered why he answered it so quickly and with such certainty.
“Sarah lacks the confidence that a man that age would look for. She is pretty but she acts like she doesn’t know she’s pretty; you have to be comfortable with yourself before someone else can be comfortable with you.”
Now hot dog that makes perfect sense! But wait? Maybe my husband is semi-blind to the fact that I feel like the most gangly awkward person to walk to planet since Gumby or maybe he’s just too kind to mention it.
“You know you’re pretty and I like that, you’re not overly confident but you’re not under confident either.”
Okay, its the later. He’s blind.
My husband and I had a bit of a rough patch in November. To be exact it was November 9th at 1:43am but hey who’s counting the minutes since? (Hint Hint* that would be me.) And while ever since high school I haven’t really had the best confidence in myself or my appearance I knew I was one of those Semi-pretty girls that has to rely on her highest trait and a killer sense of sarcasm. But that night, or morning more or less, I was basically kicked off that average type pedestal and thrown into a whirl-wind of “never good enough” and somehow my husband has managed to stay completely oblivious to it.
Levi has never been one to enjoy coffee or poetry or leave me exerts of “Having a coke with you” for me to find but he does manage to have a sweet side to him every once in awhile; like bringing home my favorite candy or by writing happy birthday or happy anniversary on the bathroom mirror. Now, I knew all of that when I married Levi, I knew what to expect and what would happen-not to set the bar too low, or for that matter, too high. But, after November 9th I feel he owes me something, anything really, a compliment, a flower, a love note.. which is so gruelingly unfair but I still can’t convince my heart to think any other way.
See, after that night I don’t think I’m good enough for the man that chose me as his wife. (and if any of your reading this feel the same then God bless you because I’m sure you are everything and more that that man could ever want or deserve.) I feel like everything I do I have to constantly look my best. Wake up at 8 work out, put on pants (actual pants: jeans), do my make up, never smell like any baby fluid, always have fresh breath, shaved legs, armpits, etc. It never ends, like I’m constantly preparing myself for our first date. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing but it’s more than exhausting when you try to do it EVERY SINGLE DAY. Even worse is my husband doesn’t seem to notice all the damage that has been done.
No, I don’t need a compliment every single day. I don’t need massive amounts of ego boosting comments. I don’t need you to write stories and poems and draw images of what the brown curls by my ears do to every muscle in your body or that your hands clam up when I get closer to your belt line. Do I want that? Yes of course, every woman wants something like that. But that would be very unfair to expect that from him simply because he screwed up one time.
What I wish my husband would notice is this; your wife isn’t comfortable in her own skin, she is endlessly wishing she was darker, a little rounder, shorter, darker hair, longer hair, and had beautiful petite dry hands. I wish he would notice just how often I look around to see if there are any females with those traits, to see if they notice your traits or you notice their’s and then there is some sort of connection that we seemed to have lost. I wish you would notice how much I love having short bangs and that while I know you hate them I need you to tell me that they look nice or at least decent so that I’m not forever pinning them back when you’re around. I wish you would notice that I make it a point to trace the lines on the palms of your large hands that you cant seem to stand or that I gladly tickle your back even though you seem to hate the way it looks but I think its sculpted in the likeliness of Artemision Bronze of either Zeus or Poseidon. I wish you would notice the way that I look for your approval in every outfit, hairstyle, decision, or meal even though I know I don’t need it. I wish you would notice that the damage isn’t gone, its still there, living and thriving in the body of your wife who is just longing for the approval from herself that she lost on November 9th at 1:43 am.