Yep, she did it. Mrs. Sigboy threw down the gauntlet. I was looking at nifty cool T-shirts online at RangerUp, where two of them caught my eye. I was positively drooling over them. They would be an awesome wardrobe choice for most of the shooting matches that I attend.
Choice two is my favorite, not so much for the Missus; here is the shirt description:
There are two types of women in this world.
1) Women who want metrosexual sensitive men who cook gourmet dinners, wax their own eyebrows, paint their mate's toenails, and uses phrases like "Yes, honey bunny".
2) Women who like guys made of pure testosterone who live their lives jumping out of airplanes, kicking doors in, and shooting bad guys, never knowing when they're going to come face to face with the big Ranger in the sky.
P.S. Deep down in places they don't like to talk about at parties, the ladies in group one want us too.
Chicks dig shooters. Deal with it, frat boys.
My comment after reading this to my darling wife was, "Ah, the good old days." After which she promptly hit me. And than laid down the challenge.
"Ten pounds, you lose ten pounds, from what you weigh right now, I will let you get those shirts."
"Right now?" I asked, as I stood up from the computer and strolled over to the scale, stripping clothes off as I went. Now, I am by know means out of shape, at
6'02 I can carry a bit of weight around and not show it, but my management job makes it harder to stay trim. I jumped on the scale wearing only a T-shirt, socks and underwear. 217.8, thinking to myself, this is going to be easy, the only dilemma will be what size to order them in. "207.8, I get my shirts?" She nods at me. I have given myself four weeks to accomplish this feat.