My husband had better stop taking me for granted.
"You know what, sweetheart? You've got competition," I told him last night, after my run through the Taco Bell drive-thru. "The Taco Bell guy hit on me."
"Yeah? Did he have all his teeth?"
"I think so," I replied. "He was missing a hand though."
You see, I have a history.
Once upon a time, I was hot. No really. I was. And I can say that now, because I had no clue of my hotness quotient at the time.
And when I was hot, I got hit on from time to time. Actually, a lot of the time. But I had a boyfriend/fiance and never cared much.
Then I got married and gained some weight from all the stress of graduating college, moving across the country all alone, and finding a job. The military wife life is the life for me, but it still hit me like a ton of bricks starting out. A ton of bricks which I promptly ate.
But I lost that weight. Then I had a baby and gained some weight. Then I lost that weight. And then I had another baby and gained some weight. And then...well. Yeah. Not so much with the losing since then.
But at those times when I was heavier, I still got hit on, just by a different class of men. And most of them were missing teeth. It seems I'm really attractive to country folk. And foreign guys. Just ask the dishwasher at Patrick's restaurant. I guess some cultures find a woman with a little meat on her bones to be attractive.
See, I'm not fat. I just live in the wrong country!
I can tell you though, without a doubt, exactly what the difference is between hot and cute.
I'm through with the Taco Bell guy. Maybe there's a guy at the salad place* who will hit on me.
*That's a joke. There is no such thing as a salad place here on the bayou.