5.7
March 1, 2015

My Husband told me to “Be Less Weird.” My Response:

Face mask

My Darling Husband,

There is something we need to discuss.

I feel that a letter is the most appropriate form of communication. We have moved past the point of it being dinner table conversation material.

So. I’ll cut right to the chase.

The phrase “be less weird!” accompanied by a slight twitch of your lips, a smirk, a roll of your eyes, has become a frequent occurrence in our household of late.

Your mates give you sympathetic looks and pats on the shoulder.

They feel your pain when you describe my latest “be less weird!” transgressions:

– The scoby hotels taking up prime real estate in the pantry. Might I gently remind you, my dear one, that you enjoy the spoils of these “chicken fillet breast implants” as you so fondly refer to the scoby cultures as? And yes, I do talk to them. They are living organisms. To not talk to them would just be rude.

– My morning oil pulling ritual. Just know that it makes my teeth whiter and my breath fresher. You should try it sometime.

– When I innocently suggested that you might like to start your day with morning pages and end it with gratitude journaling. It seemed such a fitting idea at the time. I’m still puzzled as to why I should put that in my pipe and smoke it?

– Using a jade roller on my face as part of my evening skin care routine. It’s helping to keep my face youthful and wrinkle-free. You must realise that you inadvertently benefit from this practice. Eye-candy and vanity aside, I do have one request: Please stop trying to use my jade roller as your personal scalp massager. There are His ‘n’ Hers zones in the bathroom for good reason.

– In the last couple of months there has been a third ‘person’ in our bed: Mr. Triangle Pillow. You see him as taking up valuable space in our bed. I see him as a necessary physical comfort. The solution is simple: buy a king-size bed.

– My love affair with Feng Shui runs hot and deep. So yes, those silver coins in the windowsill are serving a purpose. Trust me on this one. And whilst I love—repeat, LOVE—the fact that you do all the vacuuming, please resist your impish urge to try and vacuum up the coins. My Zen state only lasts so long.

– I’ve saved the best until last. My defining moment (I think this sparked your little “be less weird!” phrase): Late last year when you decided, completely out of the blue, to do some weeding down the side of the house. I thought I was safe. You hardly ever go there. And yet for some strange reason, on this day, of all days, you did. And you found my little collection of crystals, ready and waiting to be charged by the light of the impending full moon. The expression on your face was absolutely priceless. It still brings a smile to my lips whenever I remember.

You play it up, as is to be expected, but secretly you love my spunk, my weirdness, my ability to be my own person no matter what anyone else thinks.

Yes, my love, you have a wife who comes to bed with coconut oil on her face, charges crystals under the moonlight and believes in energies she cannot see: a wife who will inspire many more “be less weird!” outcries in the future.

This I can promise you. We may as well go ahead and amend our wedding vows right now.

I march to the beat of my own drum. I always have. I bring laughter and light and love into your life. You wouldn’t have it, or me, any other way. You’re smirking and laughing right now as you read this letter.

Which means you are in the perfect frame of mind to deal with my latest bombshell.

Fair warning: It will probably outrank the crystal incident. I’ll let you mull it over for a while and you can get back to me with a verdict, okay?

I have decided to try Guasha washing.

Pick your jaw up off the floor, honey. You would think I just told you that I am joining a cult.

Guasha wash is an ancient skin healing solution that I can make at home using vodka and bi-carb soda. So simple and, if the online reviews are anything to go by, my skin is going to be amazing! You can try it too if you’d like.

Don’t be concerned if the shower smells like a distillery. I had to use your new bottle of Smirnoff to make up the Guasha.

I know, I know, be less weird!

Your lovely (and loving) wife. Xx

 

Author: Bree Hogan

Editor: Caroline Beaton

Photo: Flickr

Read 31 Comments and Reply

Bree Hogan