Jared is a man who manifests his stress in a variety of strange and mysterious ways. His most common stress side-effect is a significant loss of appetite which leads to sudden, dramatic weight loss. His pants fall off, his stomach caves in, and his wife becomes insanely jealous. It's terrible.
Jared will stand on the scale and say something like, "Oh Amy, this is horrible! I'm into the 130's today!"
And I'm all, "Yes Jared, this is terrible...because I'm leaving you for a man who regularly outweighs me. Eat this snickerdoodle NOW, or I'm out of here you skinny little weasel!"
Me, on the other hand--I tend to deal with stress in ways that are much easier on our marriage. I do things like--I don't know--dress my dog up like a nun? She also looks great in hand knit scarves and last season's t-shirts from The Gap. Yes, I understand that this stress relief method is unconventional, but it's 100% safe on the marriage. Jared has never threatened to leave me because our dog is dressed up like a cat. So really, who's the better spouse?
Last night, I forced Jared to eat a nice, big dinner. Since he wasn't able to curb his stress by starving himself, my husband was forced to develop a new approach mental wellness. We were sitting on the couch, watching David Letterman, when he grabbed my cheeks with both hands, turned my face towards his, and sloppily licked my forehead.
I was like, "Uhck! What in the hellers are you doing, Jared! Why'd you lick my forehead, you sicko?"
Before he could piece together any sort of reasonable explanation, he picked up our LL Bean throw blanket, and began to violently wipe his tongue with it. In between wipes, he was all, "Oh.....your forehead.....it tastes......SO BAD!.......uck Amy.......that's so nasty...."
It shouldn't come as any surprise that I started to feel a bit offended. After all, I hadn't asked this man to taste my head! "Well," I replied in my very defensive tone. "Exactly what did you hope that my forehead would taste like?"
"I don't know," he exclaimed between blanket wipes, "lemon-lime maybe?"
My husband turns into a skinny-legged-head-kisser when he's dealing with stress. I like to dress Gracie up in a dish-towel cape. So here's my question of the day: What do you do to cope with the pressures of life? (warning: If you say things like 'exercise' or 'meditate,' I might think you're boring.)