Throughout our relationship there's always been something a little puzzling about us ( I mean besides the obvious). We have a little trouble putting our arms around each other's waists when walking down the street and we can't do certain things standing up no matter how hard we’ve tried. Lord have we tried! I’ve been bent over mini fridges, bars, kitchen counters, arm chairs, couches---pretty much everything but the kitchen sink. But the other day, the truth was revealed to me, and being the big mouthed know it all that I am...I had to fill John in on my discovery.

It all started with the Eagles' tickets that we had on Monday. I brought John clothes from home so that he could just change at work and we could take the subway to the game. Well, I brought him holey jeans and so we had to make a quick pit stop in Macy's. It was there that I learned the truth...Iam not the stumpy one! (You don't know how happy that makes me to write that sentence). The truth is, I was shocked to see that as we were frantically perusing the aisles/piles of jeans that John kept looking at the 30 inch length jeans. "What?" "What’s this I thought?" I kept my lips pursed and my eyes down until we found the perfect jeans for him...then I unleashed my revelation.
"John," I said ever so sweetly,"are you sure that you a 30 length?I mean, you are 6 foot 1 and all..." I batted my lashes knowing that in a few short seconds the truth would be revealed in a way that Geraldo never could manage (think Al Capone’s empty vault). He responded with a quick, "Yeah" as he hurriedly walked down the streets. I said (knowing that triumph and glory was mine), "I wear 33's or 34's. (deep breath and wide grin) That makes you the stumpy one!!"

And it's true. He's the stumpy one. And now he hates it. He whines while we lie in bed..."I don't wanna be the stumpy one." And I do the best I can when confronted with such a statement. I say, "Too bad--you’re the stumpy one!" and then I cackle myself to sleep. To confirm the longness of my legs we did a very scientific measuring using our forearms (because really cool married couples measure each other using cubits--the old Egyptian form of measurement) to measure from hip to toe. Again I won.. But to be magnanimous I said to him as I rubbed his pouty face, " It's ok, not everyone can be the short chubby version of the supermodel...I just have really, really long legs...whereas you...you have an incredibly long torso. So good night Torso Boy."

It's so good not to be the stumpy one!