Gettin’ My Cougar On

After thirteen years of wedded… uh, bliss… there’s a new man in my life. Don’t run and call your momma, yet. It’s not quite as scandalous as it might have seemed at first glance. My husband shaved his goatee for the second time in the thirteen years I’ve known him and he is a new man.

The Old Zeb:

(Very cute in a Grizzly-Adams-Pa-Ingalls-I-Am-A-Man-&-I-Will-Kill-Your-Food-With-My-Bare-Hands-If-I-Needz-To-Way)

The first time I saw his bare face was shortly after we had married. We had moved to Texas from Alabama and in the week we spent looking for jobs, we had a lot of time on our hands. I wondered out loud what his face looked like under all that hair and double-dog dared him to shave. Realizing how serious a double-dog dare is, and not wanting to look like a total wuss to his new bride, he accepted my challenge and shaved his face. I promptly doubled over on the floor laughing.

I didn’t do it to hurt his feelings or wound his pride, I literally could not control myself. I laughed until I had tears streaming down my face and my stomach ached. It wasn’t that he looked funny, he just didn’t look like himself. As soon as I quit laughing so he could speak he said, “I am never shaving again.”

He looked so different, that one afternoon when he walked into our apartment I caught his reflection in the mirror above the sink while I was washing dishes. The sight of a strange man walking into my apartment scared me so badly that I let out a blood curdling scream. Zeb jumped, scared half to death by my shrieking, “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

“I didn’t realize it was you. Sorry.”

He shook his head. “I am NEVER shaving again.”

And he didn’t for over twelve years. But a few weeks ago, after the kids had gone to bed and we were watching a movie and sharing some popcorn, Zeb leaned in for a kiss.

“Gross,” I said.

“What?” He asked.

“I’m so tired of beard hair up my nose.” (All the ladies of men with facial hair said, “Amen.”)

“I’m so tired of you complaining about beard hair up your nose,” he retorted.

“Yeah, well. You could fix that with a quick shave.” I said, shoveling more popcorn in my mouth.

“Maybe I will.” He said.

“Uh-huh. I bet you will.” I rolled my eyes.

Zeb went to the bathroom and I heard the buzz of electric clippers. I jumped off the couch and ran to the bathroom to find him standing in front of the mirror shearing off his beard.

“Wow. You were really tired of me complaining, huh?”

Apparently he snapped. I had gone and broken the camel’s back. I complained one time too many and he wasn’t having it. It was the single most demonstrative thing he has done to show his love for me since we were married. I was speechless. Our children were not.

The next morning Aubrey and Emma ran into the kitchen for breakfast and skidded to a stop when they saw their daddy.

“OH! Daddy! I didn’t even notice you there!” Aubrey, our six-year-old, exclaimed. I’m pretty sure she meant she didn’t know it was him, because she certainly noticed him. She was staring and her mouth was hanging open.

“Daddy, your nose is really big.” Our four-year-old, Emma said seriously.

When Sadie, our two-year-old, woke up Zeb went into her room to get her out of the bed and she recoiled from him. She scrambled into my arms as soon as he carried her into the room. She buried her face in my chest and said, “No, Daddy!”

He tried to talk to her to reassure her that he was still her daddy, but she was having none of it. She wouldn’t even make eye contact. I put her down so I could get dressed and she hid her face in my legs and whined, “Momma, Daddy is so sca-wee!”

They have slowly adjusted to their new and hairless daddy. Aubrey has crossed her arms and stomped her foot a few times and said, “Would you stop shaving now? You are supposed to have a beard!” But at least nobody cries when they look at him anymore.

My kids may not be happy but I, on the other hand, have nothing to complain about. I have no beard hairs up my nose and a new man in my life. So if you see me running around with a younger man, you can be jealous, but you don’t have to bother telling my husband.

The New & Improved Super Svelte Zeb:

What’s the most unexpected thing your Boo ever did to show his/her love for you? (Or so you would shut up so they could mack on you.)

Robin O’Bryant is a stay-at-home-mother to three daughters born within four years, she has recently learned where babies come from and gotten herself under control. Robin survives the drama and hilarity of motherhood by making fun of herself in her self-syndicated family humor column, Robin’s Chicks, which runs 8 newspapers in three states across the Southeast and on her blog by the same name. She writes A LOT, mostly in 140 character increments. (@robinobryant) Her two ah-mazing manuscripts are represented by Jenny Bent of The Bent Agency and are FOR SALE. CAN YOU SEE THIS PUBLISHERS??