Battle of the Ages

Everyone has their favorite go-to outfit. That outfit you know looks good. You wear it when you don't know what to wear, you haven't done laundry, you're running late, you don't want to iron and sometimes just because.

My husband has his, too and he wears it everywhere. This favorite outfit is, "comfortable" and has been worn to family gatherings, barbecues, graduation parties, get-togethers with friends, lounging around the house, on vacation...you name it.

And he doesn't mind if we spend time with the same people two weekends in a row either. That good ol' outfit has to come along.

Now let's get this straight. We have an enormous walk-in closet and he takes up half of it. We also share our dresser equally 50/50. So this outfit is not for lack of options.

I've come to despise those green plaid flannel shorts with accents of slate gray, purple and yellow coupled with his black and gray graphically enhanced Chicago Blackhawks shirt with red Blackhawks logo.

He swears to me, "It matches! See black and black." Or my personal favorite, "You can't tell me this doesn't look good together." Well honey actually I can.

I was hoping his colorblind grandfather passed this genetic trait down to him. No such luck. It's just his favorite two pieces of clothing he decided went well together.

A few weeks ago (before this outfit became a regular occurrence), Nick noticed a small hole in his shorts. He was devastated. Trying to squelch those crushed feelings, I offered to sew it back together.

What was I thinking?

He was elated! And the plaid shorts (and of course the Blackhawks shirt) began to surface more and more frequently.

I started to think if I snuck the shorts and shirt to the bottom of the laundry basket and said, "Oops. No honey they haven't been washed" that would solve my problem. But it never failed, the man who never plans what he's wearing to an event, would ask, "Have you seen my shorts and shirt (knowing I knew exactly the outfit he was looking for). I need to put it in the washer before we go to ___________."

Ugh!

I never wanted to be the wife who told her husband what he had to wear. I tried reverse psychology, saying certain outfits looked great on him, hoping they would become another favorite. I have begged and pleaded for him to pleeeeeaaaaassssse wear something else. I have even contemplated bribery. It was all in vain. He hasn't budged, not even an inch.

At the most recent family party, Nick realized there was a small hole along the seam again. As the night progressed the hole became gradually bigger and bigger and bigger until it ran the entire length of one side of his shorts.

Victory!

I'm left in a conundrum. Do I take out my sewing machine and be the hero? Or do I say they're beyond repair and save Nick from his novice fashion ways? Then all I'd have left to tackle was that infamous Blackhawks shirt. One down, one to go right?

The issues of married life...sheesh.

© Nichole DeMario, 2010 – 2012. All rights reserved