What's A Girl to Do.... And the Turkey Sub Too.

I know many of you ladies reading will relate, but one thing that has caused some special irritation in my marriage has been, what I have perceived to be, Sam's oblivion. I don't know how many hours I've wasted throughout our relationship getting gussied up, all excited to see him, for him to come home and not even notice. These instances have almost always lead to the same conversation:

Me (sheepishly): So, do you think I look pretty?

Sam: Yeah, of course I do. You look beautiful.

Me (hopefully): Well I got all ready, did you notice?

Sam: Yeah, I did. You look great.

Me (annoyed): Well why didn't you say anything?

Sam: I just did. You always look beautiful.

Me (irate): Oh, I always look beautiful in my sweats when I've been cleaning and haven't showered in two days?! I had to drag it out of you! You didn't even notice!

Sam: I did notice! I was going to say something about it! I promise! You look HOT!

Me (sheepishly again): ......what else....?

Then we laugh.

But not for long. I usually have to cut the laughing short to deliver a brief lecture on being attentive and showing appreciation for all my efforts. For which Sam is always grateful. This kind of thing is always in good fun, but the other day his obliviousness went a little too far...

Sam and I were sitting on the couch all tangled up when he attempted to get up to get a drink. Because we are oafs, Sam's knee came up and knocked me squarely on the cheek bone, right beneath my eye. It was a really hard blow with a sickening crack, and it hurt like the dickens. You can imagine my disappointment when, minutes after the assault, my cheek looked completely normal. Not even a smidge of swelling or bruising. It's always such a let down when you go through something like that with nothing to show for it... nothing to make people gasp with horror and pity and glare at Sam all accusey while I point a finger at him and say, "he did it."

No, this wouldn't do. Something had to be done. So, naturally, as soon as Sam left the house I scampered over to my makeup case, grabbed my eyeshadow, and masterfully applied a big bruise over my cheekbone. I even rubbed in a bit of red lipstick for that "fresh bruise" look.

I busied myself with making lunch and doing the dishes when Sam returned from his run. He sat down at the table and I steadied myself and honed my acting skills in the kitchen before presenting him with his lunch. I was trying not to smile and be all obvious as I sat across from him, waiting for his eyes to fall on my face for the first time. I imagined the shock and fawning that would take place when he saw my giant bruise, and the subsequent laugh attack I would have when I started wiping it off in front of him. Oh what a good joke it would be!

He looked up... and looked right back down to his plate of food. I thought, "well, that was just a quick glance" and waited for him to look again. He did... and we started chatting... and nothing. I got NOTHING. He had a full on 20 minute conversation with me, jabbering away about his run and classes and aspirations, and failed to notice the great big pulsating bruise that covered the left half of my face.

I felt my blood start boiling. How the crap was this happening? I put my hand up to my cheek, and in a last ditch effort not to ruin my little joke said, "man, my cheek is still hurting, is it bruising or anything?" He looked up briefly and said, "I don't think so, I'm sorry it hurts sweetie."

I felt like Tommy Boy. "Not so much here, not really here... but riiight here."

I was dumbfounded. I flew out of my chair and ran to the mirror in our bedroom. I thought for sure I had accidentally rubbed off my little masterpiece. There was no WAY he was this clueless. But no, it was still there, staring back at me, blaring and obvious.

I stomped back into the dining room and shouted, "It's not BRUISING???! LOOK AT MY FACE!" He looked up in surprise, "Oh! Yeah, there is a bruise. Oh man, that's bad. I'm sorry baby."

After I got all tantrumy about it and he was all sweet and attentive, I felt a little guilty and ridiculous and didn't really know how to tell him it was a fake. So I settled on trying to make it funny and quietly slipped away to wash my face.

When I reappeared in our living room all fresh-faced and giggly... trying to display my injury-free cheek in the most obvious way possible... guess who didn't say a word? That's right. He didn't notice the dark blue and purple bruise he'd inflicted, the very one I'd just thrown a hissy over, had magically disappeared...

And he still hasn't brought it up.

Good grief.

It's a good thing he's so preoccupied with taking stellar care of our little family, or I'd never get over it....

Now, for an abrupt change of subject. Try not to get whiplash.

Take a look at THIS tasty morsel!

Isn't she glorious?!

Cutest little bug on the block, I dare say.