Whoever wrote that a reunion is a little bit of heaven, didn't see the T-Shirt that DH was wearing when he came through arrivals last week. It was a polo shirt -- something I hate at the best of times -- but with a stripe; the sort you'd get in the grandfather's section in M&S. It was the wrong size, colour, shape, and made him look like he'd just wandered out of the milking shed after the morning shift.
And so what was supposed to be a wonderful event -- a reunion after two months, the start of a new life beckoning, the one-year old who was now walking -- was slightly tarnished. By an ugly top.....
By the time we reached the car I had to insist that he took it off, which he did after some harrumphing, and changed into something slightly better. We have a tacit agreement in our marriage that I choose all his clothing, right down to shoes. He truly can't survive without me, at least sartorially.
And so what was supposed to be a wonderful event -- a reunion after two months, the start of a new life beckoning, the one-year old who was now walking -- was slightly tarnished. By an ugly top.....
By the time we reached the car I had to insist that he took it off, which he did after some harrumphing, and changed into something slightly better. We have a tacit agreement in our marriage that I choose all his clothing, right down to shoes. He truly can't survive without me, at least sartorially.
Or indeed in the whole present-buying arena. Which is why I employ the marriage-preserving technique of self-gifting.
Even as a child -- spending my saved-up pocket money on Christmas gifts for my friends and family -- I found it extremely challenging to arrive home from my shopping trip without at least one gift for myself among my many bags. Often I would buy something for a particular family member, only to get it home and realise that I simply couldn't survive unless that 'Country Diary of an Edwardian Lady' was mine (I was an odd teenager), and so I would simply keep the coveted item for myself and buy the unfortunate would-be recipient something less desirable (at least to me) instead.
As I got older, I was seduced by the whole 'buy two get one forme free' phenomenon, which ensured that my portion of the trio of gifts was basically free of charge (falling neatly into Boots or M&S's dastardly marketing ploy), resulting in a nice little hoard of gifts for myself by the time I reached Christmas morning...sometimes I even wrapped them up for myself and put them under the tree 'from Santa'.
Well I do like nice things.....
Now that I'm married, self-gifting has become less indulgence and more total necessity; something which couldn't have been more obvious last Sunday -- or Christmas day -- when DH handed me a little box, nicely wrapped, with the words 'Oh it's nothing much', something which he always says, even when it's actually quite good (rare).
Let's bear in mind that earlier I had handed him a small wrapped box containing a wedding ring (he lost his ages ago), so something equally meaningful (a wedding ring too perhaps, I had also lost mine -- the curse of the 'April Fools Day wedding' perhaps?) would have been a nice gesture considering we'd spent a total of five, yes FIVE, months apart this year, giving us loads of time to pretend and believe that we're both far nicer and deserving than we really are.
Pulling off the wrapping with caution, I was left with a box containing.....oh it's depressing just typing the words....A Satellite Navigation Thingie (actual technical term) ....yes, that's right, a SAT NAV! A Sat Nav for the women with the direction sense of a homing pigeon (debatable), and who hates, HATES advice on how to get somewhere.
But wait no, it's not the device itself: Had he brought it home one random Friday evening from work saying 'here's a little gift I picked up for you today -- might be helpful', I might have been touched at his thoughtfulness (and this has happened in the past, but only if you consider a T-shirt from a scaffolding company or a cap from a concrete provider a gift).
But for Christmas day-- after two months apart? Really DH, what were you thinking?
Having quickly asserted that he had gained nul points for this years effort, he hastily attempted to reclaim some brownie points by scrolling through the accursed gadget and triumphantly pointing out 'look, you can translate bra sizes! See!'
Oh well why didn't you mention it? That has thrown the entire thing into a new light...now I'll know what sized bra to buy in Australia....thank's DH, you've made my Christmas...!
And so dear reader, I think I've made a convincing case as to why I felt it necessary to return to Coast in Kildare Village -- where I bought a gorgeous black dress for my birthday only two weeks ago -- and buy the taupe version of the same dress, to be wrapped and placed under the tree for Christmas morning.
Oh and some green Mary Jane's. And tan ones too. And a DVD of the Downton Abbey Christmas Special. And a pair of sunglasses. Oh and another dress which we pretended my daughter bought for me (it was from Laura Ashley and was an absolute steal), naughty, I know.
But if I didn't do these things -- which do evoke a small sense of guilt I must admit -- I would spend all Christmas day seething at DH's thoughtlessness. The combination of satisfaction that I did in fact get what I wanted albeit self-bought, and the guilt from this selfish self-gifting, neutralises into my merely patting DH on the arm and saying 'it's all fine darling husband, I'm happy with what I've got anyway!'
Everyone's a winner!*
*Except for DH, who until reading this didn't know the Laura Ashley dress was indeed self-bought....
Even as a child -- spending my saved-up pocket money on Christmas gifts for my friends and family -- I found it extremely challenging to arrive home from my shopping trip without at least one gift for myself among my many bags. Often I would buy something for a particular family member, only to get it home and realise that I simply couldn't survive unless that 'Country Diary of an Edwardian Lady' was mine (I was an odd teenager), and so I would simply keep the coveted item for myself and buy the unfortunate would-be recipient something less desirable (at least to me) instead.
As I got older, I was seduced by the whole 'buy two get one for
Well I do like nice things.....
Now that I'm married, self-gifting has become less indulgence and more total necessity; something which couldn't have been more obvious last Sunday -- or Christmas day -- when DH handed me a little box, nicely wrapped, with the words 'Oh it's nothing much', something which he always says, even when it's actually quite good (rare).
Let's bear in mind that earlier I had handed him a small wrapped box containing a wedding ring (he lost his ages ago), so something equally meaningful (a wedding ring too perhaps, I had also lost mine -- the curse of the 'April Fools Day wedding' perhaps?) would have been a nice gesture considering we'd spent a total of five, yes FIVE, months apart this year, giving us loads of time to pretend and believe that we're both far nicer and deserving than we really are.
Pulling off the wrapping with caution, I was left with a box containing.....oh it's depressing just typing the words....A Satellite Navigation Thingie (actual technical term) ....yes, that's right, a SAT NAV! A Sat Nav for the women with the direction sense of a homing pigeon (debatable), and who hates, HATES advice on how to get somewhere.
But wait no, it's not the device itself: Had he brought it home one random Friday evening from work saying 'here's a little gift I picked up for you today -- might be helpful', I might have been touched at his thoughtfulness (and this has happened in the past, but only if you consider a T-shirt from a scaffolding company or a cap from a concrete provider a gift).
But for Christmas day-- after two months apart? Really DH, what were you thinking?
| Every girls dream.... |
Oh well why didn't you mention it? That has thrown the entire thing into a new light...now I'll know what sized bra to buy in Australia....thank's DH, you've made my Christmas...!
And so dear reader, I think I've made a convincing case as to why I felt it necessary to return to Coast in Kildare Village -- where I bought a gorgeous black dress for my birthday only two weeks ago -- and buy the taupe version of the same dress, to be wrapped and placed under the tree for Christmas morning.
Oh and some green Mary Jane's. And tan ones too. And a DVD of the Downton Abbey Christmas Special. And a pair of sunglasses. Oh and another dress which we pretended my daughter bought for me (it was from Laura Ashley and was an absolute steal), naughty, I know.
But if I didn't do these things -- which do evoke a small sense of guilt I must admit -- I would spend all Christmas day seething at DH's thoughtlessness. The combination of satisfaction that I did in fact get what I wanted albeit self-bought, and the guilt from this selfish self-gifting, neutralises into my merely patting DH on the arm and saying 'it's all fine darling husband, I'm happy with what I've got anyway!'
Everyone's a winner!*
*Except for DH, who until reading this didn't know the Laura Ashley dress was indeed self-bought....
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