When Sweet Husband and I were first married, I introduced him to the cottony bliss of men's flannel pajama bottoms. Over the years, my stash of men's flannel pajama bottoms has dispelled and his stash has sprung up. Much to his chagrin, occasionally, I'll borrow a pair of his pajama bottoms when my sleep shorts are MIA.
The two of us were up late on night folding laundry and discussing an upcoming deployment.
"While I'm gone" he started, "...If you want to, you can wear my-"
My heart started speeding up and my insides were starting to feel warm fuzzy.
"My PT shirts." he finished.
Warm fuzzies fled. PT shirts have a course gritty feel to them, definitely in contrast to the soft cottony cloud of flannel pajama pants.
"Your PT shirts?" I repeated woodenly. "Really? I thought you were going to say 'pajama bottoms'. You almost made me melt."
"Well, I'd let you wear my pajamas, but I'm afraid you would stretch them out."
I blinked in surprise. Warm fuzzies sought refuge in Bulgaria.
Genuinely confused, I asked the question that begged asking "How would I stretch them out?"
"Well the red one's are a little tight on me, And well, it's just that your hips are so much wider than mine."
I stared at the love of my life in dumbfounded amazement.
"My hips are not wider than yours." I told him in righteous indignation.
He looked at me skeptically "Are you sure?"
Would you believe it, even after we established my hips are smaller than his, he still didn't offer me the use of his pajama bottoms. *sad face*