He didn't marry me for my feet.

I know I've said a few things in the past about my totally retarded looking feet. I inheireted my father's gnarly, high arched, freak-show sportin' feet. It's not something I'm proud of, but hey... There's nothing I can do about it. Well, besides being uber thankful for footwear to hide them.

So the other night, Connor and I were sitting together just chit chattin' the evening away. I don't even recall what the topic was. (I do know it wasn't about onamotopias though.) Connor ended the conversation by saying he loved me. Awwww, how sweet. I said "you do?" That's when he proceeded to tell me "yes, I love you from your head to your ankles."

Am I offended? Nope, not in the least. I make fun of my feet more than anyone else. In fact, I think I even laughed louder than Connor did at his little comment aimed at my expense. It's moments like these that make me glad I'm married to this guy. He is continuously cracking me up and catching me off guard with his witty comments. I love it.

Thanks for keeping me in stitches honey, I love you!!