Ivy and I were chatting about culture this morning when she threw me a curly one.
'Mummy,is Daddy a metrosexual?'
I thought it through.
1. The 10-year-old Bornhoffen bread bag that he finally relinquished as his bathroom kit about two years into our courtship. He traveled all the time for work. And yet he carted his toothbrush and comb around in a bread bag, and the older it got the more he loved it. Finally, I bought him a toilet bag, but he made me keep the Bornhoffen bag. It's packed away in a box. With his fossils.
2. His 'aftershave' - a good splash of Bombay Sapphire. I found this one out a week or two ago, when he trotted off to lunch with a potential research investor, after giving his face a good old slap with straight gin. (He didn't get any money.)
3. The 'Good Cream' - a bottle of health-shop Vitamin E cream that he uses sparingly, lovelingly, and occsaionally. Yes, twenty bucks makes it a precious product, I am forced to agree with him. But you bought it in 1992.
4. He doesn't use shampoo, which has caused him some embaressment at the hairdresser when they ask 'When did you wash your hair last?' and he's forced to admit 'The Howard Years.'
5. At a confererce this week, he noticed a rank smell wafting upwards. When his boss stepped imperceptively backwards, he had to admit that his son might have spewed a bit on his shirt. He went to the car and got changed.
6. He wears his underpants until they are more hole than cotton. When he has an osteo or massage appointment, it's a scramble to find his least humiliating pair. His favourites undies are labelled Mr Naughty and Mr Nice. Both have seen better days, but to Keith, they still hold many years of happiness.
Luckily, piercing green eyes, musky animal appeal and jazz hands are what I look for in a man. No nad-waxers or eyebrow-pluckers, thanks. And Keith has placed the bar for personal grooming and maintenance at a very, very low level. It is, I think, among the top ten reasons I married him.