Wednesday, December 19, 2001
If I get married, my husband will appreciate it when I shave my legs, though no one else will even bother to notice. If I get married, my husband won't mind at all if I choose to wear his undershirts or sweatshirts to bed rather than some sexy negligee that doesn't even fit the way it should. In fact, he might even prefer it. If I get married, my husband and I will have silly holiday traditions and will make the same theater trip that I made every year at Christmas when I was a child. If I get married, I will finally have someone to rub my head and someone to whom I can return the favor. If I get married, my husband will put his hand on my back as we sing hymns on Sunday, like I've watched my father do almost every week since I was five. If I get married, I'll finally have a reason to stay in bed on Saturday mornings. If I get married, I'll have someone who will eat what I cook with a smile, even if he can't stand the way it tastes. If I get married, my husband will think I am beautiful, and most importantly, he will tell me so.
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