Mr. Owens has a Beard

 Mr. Owens has a beard...and is modeling my bear hat!  Cute, cute, cute... and this is why I am so happy to be home.  Soon it will be year 3 since we have been together, and we both have learned to adapt- and are still learning- but I know that I love my husband.  He is funny and smart and kind, and there is no doubt in my mind that he loves me.  I think he has learned how to let me go on adventures, and I have learned how to let him stay put~ not that we won't have adventures together, but we both have different sides of ourselves that need respected.  

It's funny, because when you first date someone and it is all head-over-heels, you try to be what you *think* they should like, figure out from clues and comments what they are attracted to and then mash that up with who you are.  It's human nature- and part of the greater mating game of everything that is alive- but eventually you have a choice to make:  revert to yourself, change permanently, or assimilate the two together.  I am thinking that this is why things have been hard for me sometimes- even though I love change, I fight so hard against letting anything/anyone change *me* except for me.  And at the root of it all, there is the insecurity.  (and I suspect that this is not only my story, but echoes in many women).

When we first started going out, I picked up on a few things and tried to be more...um...mature?  Looking like a grown-up?  I wore heels (one pair I loved, the other...well...never could take more than two steps in them), had my hair professionally dyed and styled (which was fun, but expensive- and straight hair and I don't get along well), tried to do the whole makeup/jewelry/'nice' look.  (as Melissa said the other day when we were in NYC: "Remember when you wore heels?  What was up with that?-  we were all busy being amazed at the native New Yorkers who can walk 20 kabillion miles in extremely high heels- and the obvious visitors trying-to-fit-in stumbling around with sore feet)   Point being, that I tried to change my look in order to be more appealing- but that was not me.   I've never quite learned how to play that type of beauty game, and have happily reverted to my combat boots (except they *are* pink), long skirts, blue jeans and tshirts.  My hair is a curly mess that gets dyed when I get around to it, and mostly at home (though I love getting it done at a salon).  My hands are always stained with paint, I don't wear jewelry except for the wedding rings and occasionally earrings, and makeup is touch-and-go.  But he loves me none the less, tells me I'm beautiful, and- you know what?  I feel more beautiful like this than when I am trying to be something I am not.   

Likewise, I do not need suits and ties (even though he wears them well and does like to dress up- but there is not an occasion to dress for here except for funerals)... I love, love, love his beard and long hair- and his fifteen million gray tshirts, worn soft with washing.  Attraction is a funny thing- and we are suited for each other. We have fallen into that comfort zone where we can look like ourselves and be happy about it....and I am content.