This post has been rambling around in my head for a while. I wasn’t sure if I should attempt to delve into this abyss, but what the hell.
I truly believe that my husband is going through a midlife crisis at the moment. Actually, WE have been experiencing the joys of this “crisis” for the past 5 or 6 months.
It started innocently enough, long look into the mirror, turning this way and that way and then finally the very innocent question that all women throughout time have a very intimate knowledge off “Do you think I have put on weight?” Bear in mind that this question did not come from me this time, but from my husband. Granted, snorting coffee through my nose might not have been the most appropriate answer at that moment, but the question did come kinda out of left field.
After that he started running again. He used to be a very good half-marathon runner, but he quit when we moved to Cape Town as he no longer had his running buddies. I really did not have a problem with him taking up running again, only with the people he did it with (story for another blog). So, usually what happens is that when you start exercising you loose weight. Did prompted another turn in front of the mirror, this time the question was “Do you think I am too thin?” My exasperated sigh was answer enough.
Enter the Muscle Juice. Yes, dear reader, my husband is now a groupie of the protein shake. I don’t even want to dwell on this matter as I still think it is totally ridiculous to spend that amount of money on something that will make you pick up weight. And it does not even taste nice!
There is also the new “need” to be able to go out with his new friends. I have never been one of those wives that don’t allow their husbands to go out without them, but I do expect him to come home at a reasonable hour. Needless to say…..he does not.
We don’t even need to get into the obsession with grey hair, hairstyles (he has had the same once since birth and probably before) and clothing. Although my husband is evolving into a “metro sexual” I think the process is going to be a VERY long and arduous one.
I guess I should be happy that there are no affairs, sports cars or (dear lord) a moustache, my happiness will only be complete once I get him to wipe up the damn pink muscle juice powder sprinkled over my kitchen counter every morning!