Dad, I can clearly see your nuts.

Well folks, after eight years of hinting around about how much I'd like to see it happen, I finally convinced the hubs that he'd really like a pair of boxer briefs.  Yup.  I've been dreaming about this day.

The hubs used to be a competitive diver. All of his stories about his high diving days usually end in him being ridiculed for the "Speedo".  Yet all along I've been imagining what that would all look like wrapped up in a sexy little package (every pun intended….except for the little part! I've got your back babe!).

So the other day, after a long hike, he finally came to me and said the magic words…. "I think I'd like some boxer briefs!" I had to stop myself from falling on the floor all "whoa is me" style.  My husband is hot, he doesn't need any help in that department, but I can't lie….I ran to the store!

These are them.  Hello hot stuff! 

Thanks to Target, my hubs had a brand spankin' new pair of men's size medium low rise sexy pants.  Like a giddy little girl I paced back and forth waiting for the shower to turn off so that I could get a preview of my mans new underpants.  He called me into our bedroom and I raced to the closed door, only to be beat out by a curious little 4 year old boy.

In one feel swoop the boy had crushed my wildest fantasies all with a giant bellowing laugh.  It was an uncontrollable, slightly uncomfortable laugh.  One that came up and out of him so hard and fast that he almost looked a bit embarrassed and shocked by it.  And then he said it, the words that from that point on will make me laugh until snot runs out of my face….. 

"Dad, It looks like you pooped your pants right where your nuts are!"

Just like that.  We laughed for a long time.  All of us.  I then eyeball raped my husband.  And then we all laughed some more.  Through out the rest of the evening we all laughed pretty hard about the nut comment, but I made sure to express to the hubs that I didn't think that the boxer brief wearing was a joke, and that I really loved it….but dear, we can all clearly see your nuts now! 

Psssh....Who wants to be a cougar anyway?

SO here I sit, one day into my "30's".
The hubs, who is a a few years my elder, was poking fun at my no longer being a "spring chicken".
It used to be that woman shared an unspoken anxiety about switching age boxes, but now we have much more to worry about...now it's all about jumping to a different animal.  I am no longer a spring chicken, I am a Cougar...hear me Roar!

But here's the thing....I don't really want to be a cougar.  I feel like there is some sex kitten connotation that goes along with representing that over grown smelly house cat.  When's the last time you were at the zoo and saw a cougar and said to yourself: "self...that's one smoking hot cat?" NO? Me neither.

Why can't I be something cooler? I am not that much for cats anyway.
I want to be something more alluring. More intriguing. More magical.
I want to be a Unicorn! A mystical Unicorn.
If it's about the sex appeal, come on let's face it, what's sexier than a silky white unicorn with it's long flowing locks dawning a giant falic symbol strapped to the front of it's face?  I mean really? There is no competition here.

That's it.  I proclaim myself a Unicorn.  You can keep your roaring cougars! I am a Unicorn....hear me shoot magic rainbows out my ass!