For our date night last weekend, I told Vic he could pick out anything he wanted me to wear. It would take a while to explain, so I'll just say that this gesture means a lot to him.You know how it goes--you ask your husband an opinion about which option of clothing is cuter and you go with the opposite of what he says--because of course that is the more fashionable choice and you just had to test it out on his male fashion eye. Am I right?
Seriously, if I'm wearing something Vic doesn't like, I will inevitably get dozens of compliments on it from my lady friends.
So back to the point, this is the outfit he came up with. It wasn't bad. Really. I just didn't feel quite like my true self. However, I would gladly trade "not feeling like myself" for more moments of Vic feeling giddy about dressing me. He was beaming all night.
So next time we have a dinner date to Cafe Rio for 30 minutes and then grab a movie at Red Box, and I know the chances of me running into anyone are slim, I'll willingly let him pick my outfit out for me. (He doesn't need to know I calculated those details when I made the offer).