"Maybe We Should Hire A Decorator?"

In a relationship, you spend so much time together, you think the other person should know better than to make certain comments. Like...

• "You're looking curvy today." (I'm Mexican. I've had curves since I was 11.)
• "I wouldn't have married you if you weighed less than 130 pounds." (Just for that... I've told him my goal weight is 129 pounds.)
• "Wow! Your skin is really clearing up after taking those fertility pills." (No duh. I didn't need them in the first place. It makes sense once I stopped taking them, things would go back to normal. Kids are so not worth any extra effort. I've always thought that. I shouldn't have swayed from my original belief.)
• "Maybe you should spend less money on clothes?" (Maybe you should shut the hell up!)
• "Do you really need that cup of coffee?" (Do you really need to keep breathing?)
• "Do you really need to eat dessert?" (You must need a good ass-kicking buddy.)

When my husband has the audacity to make these statements (which is not often, for his sake), all I have to do is look at him and the fear of God sets in... As he knows he is about to get a verbal whoop-ass the likes he could never imagine.

You think he would just know not to make certain comments to me, after having been with me for over seven years now. You would think... But you would be wrong.

Over dinner this past weekend, we were discussing our move to Toronto next year. We have agreed that when we move, we will live in an apartment in downtown for at least a year. During that year, we will look for a home in the neighborhood known as The Annex. Once we find said home, it will be my choice as to how we decorate it. We've agreed that we each get a home office type of room to ourselves. (His will be in the basement. Mine will likely be in the attic.) But other than that, the majority of the decorating will be at my selection. And The Husband knows this. But...

For some reason, while out at dinner, he chose to ask a question he should know damn well not to ask...

"Maybe we should hire a decorator?"

(He prepares for verbal bitch slap.)

"What the hell do you mean?" I demand to know. "Why the eff-ing hell would we hire a decorator? I don't need a damn decorator. I made excellent use of the space in our current apartment. And I think it looks lovely for what it is."

"Well," he some how found the guts to go on, "we have a lot of brown going on in the living room."

That was his objection?

"That's because the walls are red," I explained. "And unless you want to go with black furniture, you can quit talking now."

"Well," he dared to continue (why is he not afraid of me?), "'So&So' from work is going to hire a decorator when he buys his place in Toronto."

"Umm, 'So&So' is a single man with confusing taste," I explain to The Husband. "Of course he's going to hire a decorator. If he didn't, the place would be an un-styled bachelor pad that would frighten women. He NEEDS one. We DO NOT. And I am so very highly offended that you would even suggest such a thing."

I mean really, people, how hard is it to peruse catalogs, visit showrooms, watch H&G TV, read home styling magazines and research online?

Don't get me wrong... I fully respect the craft of interior decorating. But I think that it is not necessarily needed for everyone. Certainly not for my home.

Sure, if The Husband was a single guy, he would have hired a decorator to help him out. I mean, he snagged me when I was 23... I didn't mind that he lived in a small studio apartment with a door that didn't work well, a bed where the mattress was too small for the bed frame, and the recliner that he inherited from his grandfather - who had been dead for 20 years... The 23 year-old me was totally fine with that. The 30 year-old me would not have been.

But he is 32... Married... And has a wife who can navigate her way into styling a home.

"Maybe we should hire a decorator?"...

Betch, please.