I remember when I first got married, a friend bought me a book about how to be a good wife. She was being cheeky: it was a well-known fact that my potential wife skills were non-existent. As a single gal, my swanky apartment had a beautiful Smeg oven that still looked brand new; I had a cleaner, as my time was spent focussing on my career or MBA (too busy to clean, darling).
There was no expectation that once I became a wife, I would suddenly turn into a domestic-muffin-making-goddess, least of all from my husband.
I opened the book to amuse myself, just how far away was I from the ‘perfect’ wife? (Far!) One of the tips for a relationship was about how to greet your husband when he came in from work: sexily dressed and made-up, was the described dress code.
Mmmm… When Husband returns from work on a Thursday (he’s normally away Monday to Thursday) he is far more likely to find a make-up free, PJ clad goddess. He’s often home late and by that time, I’m done with being glamorous Karen, and ready to lounge. Yes, the world gets glamour, Husband gets, well, not sure what the appropriate description is. It’s not so bad that I am sporting a onesie or a Slanket, but I am normally in my PJs at this time (although I do try to have funky ‘at home’ wear).
And Husband is the same, off comes the stylish work attire and on comes the jogging bottoms and t-shirt. But as Husband and I lounged on the sofa on Sunday – in our comfies – it got me thinking: are comfies bad for a relationship? Is the rise of the Slanket more powerful a contraception than the pill?
Because I think there is a danger, of the world getting the best of us, and well, our partners getting the left overs. Who isn’t guilty of turning on the sparkly personality for friends, then switching to something a little more average at home? Or making an effort with your appearance for a night out with the girls, then sporting said onesie on a night in with your partner?
I agree that home is the place where we should be able to just be ourselves, in all our glory: from grumpiness to happiness; from glamour puss to PJ puss, from socialite to introvert. And isn’t it one of the wonderful parts of love, that another person accepts you just as you are? All of you, the good and the bad.
But, where’s the line? ‘Accept me as I am’ isn’t an excuse to give your worst, surely? I can’t help thinking that making an effort with one’s partner – whether that be with your appearance or being fun to hang out with – is part of not taking each other for granted.
When Husband and I got married, we made a silly arrangement to not gain more than ten percent of what we weighed on our wedding day (not good for me, as I did the classic pre-wedding starve. I probably put on ten percent the day of the wedding!). It’s not that we really mean that, more that we don’t want each other to just let themselves go. I don’t want my Husband to turn into a twenty stone, beer swilling, lazy arse, who never wants to do anything (seven years in and no concerns so far – well, not on my side).
So I think there is a line (for men and for women. I’m not for one minute suggesting this is a female only concern zone). I’m not sure where it is, and I’m sure it’s different for each couple. Yes, wear your onesie and grumpiness with pride. Sometimes. And other times, still be the person he or she fell in love with.
What do you think? To Slanket or not to Slanket?