So my husband walked in on me showering tonight. That's not exactly true; he walked past the bathroom while I was showering and I can't close the door to the bathroom because earlier today I decided it would be a fine idea to use the one bathroom in this house with a shower in it as a laundry basket and I haven't washed the laundry in, like, 4 days which means I have a pile of laundry taller than Everest going over here and so the bathroom door won't even come CLOSE to closing and I have a glass walk-in shower so yeah, he got a full frontal shot.
Which wouldn't be so bad, really, I mean, we've been together since I was 20 and it's not like he's never seen me in the buff before (three times, to be exact) but when a man sees me in the shower, I fully expect the shower head to be ripped out of the wall at some point. That's a fun story to explain to your landlord, by the way. What I don't expect is for that man to go wandering past the door, see that it's open, peek his head in and start talking to me while the floor is up to his knees in smelly preteen clothes, my youknowwhat's are covered in Veet and my face is slathered in Noxema.
Not hot. Not close to hot. My shower head lives to see another day.
It probably shouldn't have bothered me. It's not like he hasn't had to hold me up on the loo while I alternated puking and pooping as a person clawed his way out of what was, until mere moments before, his favorite toy in the world. It's not like I don't fart in my sleep. It's not like I haven't washed the sheets he completely destroyed during a particularly nasty bout of the roto-virus. It's not like I don't walk in on him every motherfucking morning while he takes his morning pee. In the nude. There really isn't anything we haven't seen each other do, I guess, but I just don't want him to see me THAT exposed. Noxema exposed. It's just soul-crushingly unsexy.
I never close bathroom doors when he's not home because it's usually just me and the 4 year old and she's still at that phase where she wants to hold my hands and help me squeeze the poopies out. Even when all I have to do is blow my nose. It's slightly annoying as all fuck. Wherever I go, there she is, and I accept that. 11 years of parenting has killed any hope of privacy or decency for me, and I embrace it. I don't ever bother to close the door, which only bites me square in the ass on the days when my husband is home, and I forget, because he's never home, and those are the days when I am sure to run up to the bathroom to do my thing and leave the door wide open, leaving me no choice but to jump up in the middle of certain events that don't call for jumping of any kind and try to slam the door shut before those footsteps I hear coming up the stairs reach the top and he loses the last little inkling of attraction he may or may not have left for me.
So far, so good. And when he walked in the bathroom tonight, he said whatever the hell it was that was SO FUCKING IMPORTANT it couldn't wait until I was done and then he walked out. Almost out. 90% of the way out before he turned around and said, "Oh, by the way, hot."
That bitch is totally getting Dutch Ovened tonight.