A typical day at our house begins when the alarm goes off at 4:30AM and we wake up in a half stupor and do some whining. The whining doesn’t usually stop until we get to the park. (And even then I am known to lay down on my towel in the grass and mope for a few minutes). The workout begins at 5:15AM and is HARD. We then shower in the locker rooms at the park and head to respective workplaces.
Anyway, this is just the backstory, and some slight justification as to why my husband is a crossdresser.
On Monday morning, it was the typical routine. Wake up, moan, dress in a stupor, go to the park, workout, and then shower. We usually end up getting dressed in about the same amount of time (yeah, I’m awesomely quick…he is so lucky) so we can usually walk to our cars together or at least grab a kiss before the day officially begins.
On this particular day, I was walking to my car when I heard Tommy behind me. I turned and saw him. I sensed something was wrong with his pants…maybe they were too long? Too big? I couldn’t quite figure it out. But I opted not to say anything. He asked what was wrong.
I said, “Nothing – you look great!”
And he said, “It’s the pants isn’t it?”
I responded with, “Well, something looks a little off about them…”
He comes back with, “Well, they’re yours.”
Are you freaking kidding me?
Sure enough though, upon closer inspection, he was in fact wearing my favorite black slacks from Express…and they looked better on him than they do on me. At this point, his biggest complaint was that the pockets weren’t big enough for all his crap. Duh. This is why we need giant purses. Idiot. The flare leg was quite flattering on him, albeit slightly emasculating.
He said he showered and was pulling up the pants when he tried to zip them up, and lo and behold the zipper was on the wrong side. At this point, he realized that he had accidentally grabbed my pants from the closet, but didn’t want to put back on his dirty workout clothes, and hey, my pants fit, so why not wear them? He also said he felt like a crossdresser. I told him that was because he WAS a crossdresser.
When I get back from lunch, I find an email from Tommy in my inbox:
“Tommy to me
show details Sep 8 (2 days ago) Reply
It's weird having the zipper and all backwards. And hard to get the equipment out since the zipper doesn't go down all that far. Haha. It's hard to wear womens pants.
You know what they say about walking a mile in someone else's shoes? Do the pants count? If so, I think I will be able to learn more about you after today...”
I forward this to Harold, who proceeds to forward it to most everyone Tommy knows, and before long, people Tommy doesn’t even know are emailing him asking about the situation. His co-worker took a picture, which unfortunately, doesn’t really do the situation justice, so I’ve attached one I took when he got home.
To my loving husband: You’ve GOT to stop stealing stuff from my closet. And you’re taking the dry cleaning in this week. I’m afraid of it.
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