Division of Duties

Like most married couples, over the years Mark and I have developed a division of duties in our relationship. For example he does the laundry, I do the grocery shopping. He looks after the Bar-B-Que and I cook the side. Somehow most of the things in our marriage have been measured and meted out over time.

But one of most surreal duties I have acquired is buying Mark's work out clothes. Actually, in fairness, I assumed this role as the skin flint actually clenches if he pays more than $9.95 at Wal-Mart for his running shoes. Even now I shudder to think of what his joints to look like inside.

As with most things that involve Mark, there are rules to what he will wear to work-out in. Mark lives in a very square world. At the office his co-workers just love to put a couple of holes from the hole punch on his blotter when he is getting coffee so they can giggle when he fastidiously cleans them off. They might do this 2 or 3 times a day, just because he is so fussy. So it should come as no surprise that he will only wear either blue or black. Because, you can't expect a man to wear a perfectly good orange running hat. No, that goes to Jenny. Who I will let you know, enjoys running in it very much. But enough on that.

As you can image, blue and black doesn't give you much maneuvering room. Not that I have ever been really worried, since everything I buy him is from Winners. Or in short, on sale. But the other day after announcing he was going running, he emerged from the bedroom - in head-to-toe black Nike. Unwittingly, I had bought him brand name work-out clothes without knowing it. In this outfit he looked like a magazine ad, or as he uncomfortably muttered while plucking at his shorts, a sell-out. I couldn't argue, if he had been dressed in velvet the only word that would have accurately described him would have been fop. Poor Mark, cursed to look cool, even when sweating - how liberal!