Accidental Fat-Assery

I may not be sick any more, but my voice still sounds like I am. It's half-whispery, warbles at weird times, you know what I mean: that "I'm-losing-my-voice" hoarseness. Sometimes I'll be talking and my unreliable voice will just skip a word or two - I'll say it, but nothing actually comes out. And like, on the phone lately, I've been asked a.) are you crying? and b.) are you trying to be quiet for some reason?

No and no. I've just got a weird voice for the time being. And having a weird voice brings risks: like making you inadvertantly insult someone you love.

See, I accidentally called my husband a fat-ass. Accidentally!

It went down like this. We were both rummaging around in the closet for something to wear when I came across a sling. You know, the baby-wearing type? It's adorable, but I misjudged my size when I ordered it, and when I'd tried it on for the first time I could hardly squeeze my tub-o-lard self into it, let alone leave room for the baby. So into the closet it went.

"Wonder if I could wear my sling now?" I mused. After all, the too-tight incident was over 40 pounds ago.

"Wonder if I could wear it?" Curtis piped up. He was being silly; it's a very feminine print. (Although the Internet did once tell me that Curtis is gay, so you know ...)

"It would never fit you," I said. Meaning, of course, that if it didn't fit me, it most certainly wouldn't fit a six-foot-four dude. You know?

"Are you saying I'm too much of a fat-ass to wear it?" he teased.

"I don't think you are a fat-ass," I said - but my voice, which falters in and out, inaudibly whispered the "don't" part. Damn traitorous vocal cords! So it came out: "I think you are a fat-ass." Worse, I was turned toward the window at the time, so it's not like he saw my lips form the words or anything.

Uh-oh.

I may as well have thrown a bucket of ice water in Curtis's face; he looked as shocked as he could be. "Whaaaat?"

"I said I don't think you're a fat-ass. As in do not!" I insisted. "It's just that my voice didn't say the 'don't' part. I swear!"

He totally didn't believe me. He acted like I was all,

or ...

But seriously. I didn't call him that. Well okay, maybe I did, but not on purpose. I mean, come on: me calling someone fat is like Andy Dick calling someone obnoxious. Larry King calling someone old. Tiger Woods calling someone a cheater. This extra bulk around my midsection is not pockets stuffed with cash, folks.

Eventually I got him to believe me, so our marriage is no longer threatened by (perceived) emotional abuse.

... But that was a close one.