Fashion Advice…

The Missus is in crisis. We’re late up and she has several work meetings then we’re going out tonight and she can’t figure out what to wear.

Even worse it is her birthday soon and I was toying with the idea of buying her a dress so I’ve spent some considerable time trawling the internet to find the dress I want for her. Consequently I now consider myself a fashion expert so I try to lend a hand by pointing out various things in her wardrobe…

‘How about that?’
‘Too casual…’
‘That?’
‘That’s a winter coat…’
‘Try the thing next to it on then.’
‘That’s a pair of jeans…’
‘How about that? The colours are really good.’
‘The material is really thick and today is supposed to be the hottest day of the year…’
‘How about…’
‘Just stop trying to help me. Please…’

I head downstairs. My mobile phone has been charging through the night. I check to see if it’s OK and notice the date. I head back upstairs. The Missus is now dressed and heading downstairs. I stop her.

‘What do you want now?’
I pinch her arm then gently hit it while reciting: ‘Pinch, punch, first of the month. No returns.’

I wait for the smile to crack across her face. Instead she just stares. Like she's just seen a rogue horse do a shit. Across our new bed. When it has the new duvet covers on it.
‘You really aren’t helping yourself, are you?’

I could be in trouble...