Husband has taken out a life policy on me...without my consent. Now some of you may be thinking, "Heeeeeyyyyy...that sounds suspiciously like maybe he's going to kill you in your sleep and be the subject of a Dateline episode." And yes, maybe that should be my worry...but it's not. I have much LARGER CONCERNS, PEOPLE! On account of MY LARGE GIRTH WILL BE THE SUBJECT ON THE EXAM TABLE.
Pumpkin pie couldn't figure out why I broke into sobs after his passing remark of, "Oh, by the way, the nurse is coming over some time this week to do your physical for the life insurance policy. When would be a good time and I'll call her?"
I know. He can't help it. He just doesn't savvy.
I tried to explain how my self worth is tied up in my crappy blood pressure and body bulk. I did this by suggesting maybe he could "take his...appendage...lay it across an ice cold steel exam table, have the nurse MEASURE girth and length, and then rate his value accordingly."
That helped. A little bit.
Still...apples and oranges, folks.
I'll let you know if I go through with it. And if I end up in the arms of Jesus, you'll know the anxiety was too much for my sweet little fatty heart.
Either that, or Sterling murdered me in my sleep.
Either way, you can't have my stuff.