Somewhere along the way we decided my husband should have a vasectomy. And by we, I mean that as in the royal we, which really just means me. He is not on board with this idea at this time. I can’t imagine why. I’ve been putting up with random people in lab coats playing in my own personal space for years, the least he can do is man up and let our good friend who happens to be a pee-pee doctor (and a pizza restaurant owner…go figure) do a little south-of-the-border pruning.
I basically had to go on strike in order to get Darling Husband to take my list of demands seriously. He realized I was completely 100% for real on this issue when he walked in the bathroom and saw my diaphragm on the counter next to my sink. I had bedazzled it. It was now all sparkly and being used to hold cotton balls. Because I don’t plan to need it any time soon. Snip, snip.
This is not the first time I have had to take drastic steps in order to get Darling Husband to comply with my every wish. I had to Nair his back hair once because he insisted on walking around shirtless in front of our preteen daughter’s friends, which is wrong (and illegal in fourteen states). I had to pay a gardener not once but twice to replant the shrubs Darling Husband ripped out, not that I can’t replant them myself but it stings so much more when he gets a bill for the work.
So as Darling Husband writhes in imaginary agony at even thinking about letting anyone do permanent and vindictive harm to his nether parts, he has been warned that more bedazzling of important things will take place if he does not hurry and accomplish this unpleasant task. For his part, I have been forbidden to post photos of the procedure if he does comply and I quickly agreed, but he never mentioned anything about inviting people to watch the video on my YouTube channel. It will be sparkly.