I mentioned in one of my previous posts that I'm not a pretty crier. Some girls will let tears glisten brightly in their eyes, a solitary teardrop will slowly roll down their cheek. A rose colored blush will sweep across her cheeks as her lip quivers slightly and a delicate sigh makes any nearby male rush to her side to take away her pain. Yeah, that's not me....at all.
I won't bore all my blogging BFF's with the details of how my face turns bright red and my eyes swell shut. Mascara mingled with tears create a black dingy river down my cheeks. If I cry hard enough blood vessels break under my eyes leaving small purple bruises for days (No, officer, my husband didn't beat me...I fell down some steps...). It is not good and I think Nate tries everything in his power to stop the tears from flowing just so he won't have look at my face and then pretend that he still loves me no matter how I look.
The other day I spun around quickly because I was in a hurry...ok, I wasn't in a hurry, I was dancing like a drunken pirate and spinning around like I was the lead in the Nutcracker (there's a slight possibility that I was dancing to "Get yourself a bad boy" by Backstreet Boys....). ANYWAY, I spun around and hit my hand on the corner of the counter. It hurt really bad so I said "Ouch" and turned to Nate for comfort. I held my hand to my chest, made an "ouchy" face and stuck out my bottom lip, hoping for some sympathy from my sweet husband.
He grimaced at me and said "Boy, you are not pretty in pain."
As my hand swelled up, turned black and fell off; he said "Some of your facial expressions are just not attractive."
Thanks a heap Nate, I would have punched him in the nose if my right hand was still attached to my wrist.