Mike makes fun of me for taking "forever" to get ready for bed. But I have a lot to do! As my mother always said (and as her mother always said), "You have to suffer to be beautiful." Now I don't know about 'beautiful,' and that phrase was mostly reserved for when I was screaming bloody murder as she was roughly combing out my hair after a bath, but I believe that we should take a little time each day to take care of ourselves.
I have to: floss, brush my teeth, remove my eye makeup, wash my face, apply anti-adult pimple cream (seriously, what the hell? I'm almost thirty!), apply eye cream, night cream, and the motherfucking seemingly never-ending ringworm cream.
So when I finally crawl into bed, he's long been asleep.
(Note: It really only takes me about ten minutes to complete my nighttime routine. It's not my fault that the man can fall asleep before his head hits the pillow. I should be happy that he brushes his teeth, but there's no way he's going to wash his face at night, no matter how many different cleansers his mom buys him. Sorry, Mary!)
The other night, I was absolutely freezing. Mike was asleep, snoring softly, with a mountain of blankets pulled up to his eyes. I have no idea how he doesn't simultaneously suffocate and overheat, but he seems to be fine, so I let him be.
Unless... Well, unless my feet are freezing.
See, I think that I have poor circulation in my feet. They're quite small, I have low blood pressure, and they're far away from my heart. It takes a while to get warmth down in my toes, and sometimes it seems like my body doesn't want to exert the effort.
It doesn't help that the air vent in the bathroom blows directly on my feet as I'm washing my face and brushing my teeth and whatnot.
So when I carefully and quietly creep into bed, I know that I have a human furnace laying next to me. I ever so slowly place an ice-cold foot against his leg, holding my breath as I anticipate movement. When nothing happens, and he continues on in dreamland, the other foot finds a spot. I usually keep my feet pressed against his calves for a good five minutes until I can feel the warmth returning.
But that's when something strange happens.
Remember playing in the snow for what seemed like hours, and even though you were wearing mittens or gloves, your hands still managed to get damp and cold? My mom would have us run cool water over our fingers - and it felt so warm! Our hands would be tingly and almost numb, but that cool water would make everything okay.
Well, that's the same sensation that I would feel when I would reluctantly remove my feet from my oblivious boyfriend's legs - but in reverse. Maybe my feet were overheated, and they were just trying to return to normal temperatures.
Maybe I just need to wear socks more often.
3 comments:
I read someone's blog post a while back about the difference between women getting ready for bed and men getting ready for bed. For a man: turn off TV, put on pajamas, brush teeth, fall into bed. For a women, the author included all the things a women does after she says she is going up to bed: empty dishwasher, load dishwasher, pick up toys on the floor, fold laundry, etc..., then brush teeth, wash face, blah blah blah. That is definitely true in our house -- I still have 25 minutes after I say I'm going to bed until my head actually hits the pillow, and it's more like 3 1/2 minutes for hubby. *sigh* Such is life.
Regarding the cold feet, I have them too. Unfortunately, hubby screams like a girl when I put my feet on him in bed. So these days I keep the heating pad next to the bed, and I put it on "high" where my feet will go while I do my nighttime routine. It's oh so lovely!!
Trevor takes serious issue with me cold feeting him at night. To be fair, though, he doesn't believe in turning on the heat, retiring the quilt for the comforter come winter or sleeping with the windows CLOSED. Granted, I live in Texas, but 35 degrees is 35 FREAKING degrees.
Marital bliss...
sunny - Oh, I can totally understand that. It's completely true! And don't you think that someone should invent heating pad socks?
Also, your brother cracks me up, and the heating pad reminded me of one of those moments - We were at your parents' house watching a movie and he said he was cold. Your mom offered him a heating pad, and he replied, "I said I was cold, not menstruating."
deals - He deserves the cold feeting. Turn up the damn heat! Who is he, my father?
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