Before Nate left for work this morning, he asked where my cover-up was. (Don’t be embarrassed Nate. It’s a good bet that about 95% of husbands have used their wife’s zit camo at one point or another.) I told him where it was then asked him not to take it with him. While he gave me a little grumf, to his credit he did not utter the words he was surely thinking: “Holly, you don’t leave the house. Why on Earth do you need your cover-up?”
Well, I put the dang cover-up on. You never know, I may see the UPS guy. And I traded my black “lounge” pants (aka sweats) for jeans. Granted, they’re still maternity jeans but whatevs. Baby steps.