"You're like a Lamborghini," Justin said when I randomly asked him if he thought I was still pretty.
I honestly didn't see how he could see any trace of beauty in me that night and was amazed as he assured me that he did. I had been sick for days, was wearying dirty sweats and a baggy T-shirt that clashed terribly, didn't have a trace of make-up left on (which I desperately need if I want to hide my pale, uneven complexion, pimples, and dark circles), and hadn't done my hair which also needs a lot of lovin' to look like anything but an unattractive, flattened, wad of frizz. Needless to say I was definitely not looking very pretty. Like at all. Seriously.
His reasoning was this: Lamborghini cars are BEAUTIFUL (to him). Even if they are painted a funny color, they are still beautiful. While I am "green" and sick now, all he sees is the beautiful car underneath.
"My husband just compared me to a Lamborghini." I thought out loud. Despite how it sounds, I secretly loved it.
This morning I was feeling a lot better and was showing it. While we were getting ready to have breakfast he mentioned something about how now I'm like a Ferrari.
"What about that whole bit about me being a Lamborghini and beautiful no matter what!" I scolded, remembering the nice things he said the night before and not wanting him to go back on his word.
Realizing he had spoke too soon and fishing for a way out of his blunder he carefully explained, "You're still beautiful, but now your just better for racing."
I love that man.
P.S. Don't tell Justin, but now I think I like Lamborghini and Ferrari cars a little bit more too.
