Have I ever actually pooped in front of Serge (not counting while giving birth which he assures me I did not even though I know for a fact that I did)? I ain't saying. Because if I did happen to be pooping and the door wasn't locked and he came into the bathroom for whatever reason I most certainly wouldn't announce which bodily function happened to be going down. And NO, I don't sit and marinate in my own stink like some freakshows apparently do. Gross. I mean, I admit that my own smell is much less offensive than anyone else's but still, I am all about the courtesy flush and so even if he were to surprise me while in the midst of a code brown situation he would never be the wiser.
But, as usual, I digress.
In addition to availing myself of the porcelain facilities there are many other things I never thought I'd do in front of Serge. But, well, time passes and a giant goat hair is growing from my chin like a Sequoia in the national park of the same name and there I am tweezing or creaming right in front of the very man from whom I should be hiding the horror.
What do you think? Is there a certain mystique we should try to maintain within marriage or, after pushing almost a decade of man and wifedom, like myself, are all bets off? It's what I'm babbling about in 10 Things I Never Thought I'd Do In Front of My Husband.