Fashion before function... always.

Read Bert's side of the story.

On a recent excursion to Minnesota, in the palatable month of August, we enjoyed a few days with extended family. We had a lovely time, and on this particular Saturday, we celebrated Baby O's first birthday (just a little early -- but who cares when it's an excuse to get together and overeat?)

I was sitting near the small, plastic pool watching little missy "swim" in all her bare-baby-bum glory, when I noticed Bert and his brother shooting some basketballs. Naive as I am, I thought nothing of it and continued conversing with aunts, sisters-in-law, mom-in-law and cousins-in-law, with my back to the door of the house. And then a slow chuckle started to arise from the crowd, particularly from those facing the front door. It grew from a chuckle to a giggle, and then erupted in full-out laughter. I turned to see what was so funny, and there stood my husband in a pair of bike-shorts.

(The following thought-process happened very quickly.)
First thought: (mortification) What is going on?
Second thought: (frustration) I hope he didn't pay money for those shorts.
Third thought: (pontification) He obviously doesn't share my "Fashion before Function" motto.
Final thought: HAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

I need to pause here and explain how we got to this point, though I'm sure no amount of explaining can ever erase the image that has been burned into the minds of my relatives. (I'm sorry, relatives, that you had to see that. But being that you've known him longer than me, I rest assured you weren't too surprised - and I shudder to think that maybe it wasn't the worst you've seen.)

Now based on what I've just written, the following statement may shock some of you (as it shocked me): apparently, my husband was voted "Best Dressed" in his high school class. And as its website notes, it wasn't a small high school: "Today, Simley High School is a comprehensive secondary school with a student population of about 1,200 in grades nine through twelve."

When we married, he was a fan of the blue-jeans-paired-with-a-t-shirt-and-a-suit-jacket. Not great, but not scraping the bottom of the barrel, either. I did have to help him with his shoe collection. He had quite a few, but most were a bit eccentric. I have to say, Bert took the direction I gave him in finding attractive shoes, and to this day, when he gets compliments on them, he attributes it to me.

I should've known his discretion was lacking when after about six months of marriage, I opened the freezer and found a pair of pants and underwear. He informed me that this was a good way to dry-clean clothes without actually taking them in when you're in a hurry. I immediately: gagged, cried, threw away the contents of the freezer, and then calmly explained that if we were going to stay married, this practice could no longer continue. And I haven't seen any clothes in the freezer since.

When we moved to Virginia and he started to work from home and take care of Baby O, I noticed his requirements for clothing became more casual. But it wasn't that big of a deal -- I mean, often I'm the only one who sees him in a day. I did have some questions after the Adidas shirt incident, but I could reasonably explain them away.

Um, folks? The truth is, I didn't see it coming to this. I thought I married a man who had at least some regard for fashion. I didn't think he'd receive notariety for it (though I was wrong, as evidenced by his high school class), but I figured he would always be some nice arm candy for me. A little scruffy at times, but never anything to laugh at. Despite his indiscretions, he still cleans up well.

I can say that he won the game, though he lost his dignity. I'm not sure which is more valuable to him, but to me there were no real winners that day. We all lost something.