See this scale? Yeah, I just got one of these from my husband FOR MY BIRTHDAY.
I know it sounds bad…and it is bad, but allow me to sort of explain.
We just spent a ton of money on a treadmill, money I’ve been trying to rationalize by working out like an asshole to amortize the cost. The treadmill is fancy, tracking fitness goals and all that good stuff so it requires me to input my weight before every workout. Fine, except our digital scale was a moody bitch. One minute I was 138 pounds, the next I was 127, five minutes later I was 146. So yeah, we needed a new scale.
My birthday was last weekend and I’m notoriously hard to buy for. Knowing this, I try to make gift giving opportunities as foolproof as possible. I made it known the only thing I wanted was a pair of Ray-Bans I’d need to pick out myself because I have a really big face. What? I do.
So last Saturday my husband gave me pink roses, a red velvet birthday cake, and a wrapped gift far too large and heavy to be a pair of Ray-Bans – even for a face as large as mine. “Don’t get excited,” he tells me, “This isn’t your real present. I just wanted you to have something to open.” Sweet, right? Wrong. It was an effing scale.
“You did not just buy me a scale for my birthday,” I said, “Jesus, what were you thinking?”
“I told you this wasn’t your present! You said we needed a scale! We’re gonna get your sunglasses today!” he stammered in defensive staccato. Yes, yes, and yes but if it looks like a gift, and it’s wrapped like a gift, it’s usually a gift. A scale wrapped as a gift that isn’t really a gift? Bad birthday form. “But it was meant to be a joke!” he backtracked. Oh, so now it’s a joke gift? I don’t see anybody laughing.
Poor guy, he tries, he really does. One year he gave me a diamond solitaire necklace on Christmas morning. “I saw it and I thought it looked like you,” he told me as I opened the expertly wrapped box. I said I bet it did and I pulled down the neck of my pajama shirt to reveal the exact same necklace I’d been wearing for the last year as a permanent fixture around my neck.
I know Mama always said it was the thought that counts, but WTF was he thinking? Was he thinking?
Tell me, what’s the worst gift your partner has ever given you?