I married a handsome man. Even though he’s obsessed about losing his hair (which is odd, since he hasn’t actually lost any, yet) and whitening his teeth (he could have made an extra house payment by now with the money he’s spent on sham . . . er, effective teeth whitening treatments), the fact remains that he is, objectively, a handsome man. He’s so handsome, in fact, that women tend to flock to him, even despite the pre-Andy Rooney state of his eyebrows and the fact that he grows black hairs on his earlobes. They just don’t care.
He has gleaming, straight, white (obviously) teeth, jet-black, wavy hair, and super-broad shoulders. He can carry couches around on his head all by himself. He’s always willing to go buy candy for me at 11 p.m. when I am working late and cursing/scowling at my computer screen—AND HE DOESN’T COMPLAIN ABOUT IT. (If someone asked ME to go out and get candy at 11 p.m., I’d be like, “Bitch, please.”) He can fry potatoes perfectly. (That is, frankly, all I care about.) He is, in a word, dreamy.
Sometimes, he’s movie-star handsome.
Other times, he’s homeless movie star handsome.
He’s super handsome, but he’s also extroverted and naturally gracious and kind, which means that, frequently, women who meet him fall in love with him. Sometimes, these women are normal women who appreciate his kind personality, and, other times, the women are slovenly sales clerks with giant teeth, usually from Ohio.
So what could possibly be the downside of marrying such a handsome man, you might be wondering? Surely, since such beauty resides here, the house is covered with glittering fairy dust, and angels feed me Twinkies while I work sitting atop a goose down mattress, swaddled in the silkiest of mink stoles. That is EXACTLY how it is at our house, except that I actually work atop a couch cushion that has a giant rip in it where our son worked on a tiny snag with his fingers and then stuck his entire foot through it. He has done this twice, so I can’t switch cushions. I am living. the. dream.
However, in marrying a handsome man, I’ve learned an important life lesson: handsome men and ugly men have equally disgusting bathroom habits. Whether it’s the dirty underwear left in the clean sink or the used dental floss left in the shower, my husband’s handsome visage doesn’t prevent him from acting like a hygiene-challenged, brown-toothed troll. He doesn’t use washcloths when he showers . . . HOW DOES HE WASH HIS JUNK? WHERE DOES THAT BAR OF SOAP FIND ITSELF?
And, thus, pretty men will never be intimidating to me again. That super-handsome man you’ve always admired from afar takes 45 minutes to poop and likes to read in the bathroom. It’s not the stuff stalker-infatuation dreams are made of.
By far, the most disturbing habit of my husband’s disturbing bathroom habits is his tendency to USE MY TOWEL. Now, in the summer, I typically wash bath towels after a single use because the air in the house isn’t dry enough to allow used towels to air-dry quickly, and damp towels freak me out. However, in the winter, when the air in the house is so dry that I wake up every morning looking this this:
the towels air-dry VERY quickly, so I like to use them more than once. What I don’t enjoy is when other people use my already-used towel and get their body juices all over it. So. Gross. Why don’t you just use my toothbrush? Or wear my socks? Or (and this is the worst sin any partner could ever commit) SLEEP ON MY PILLOW? (He would. He totally would and wouldn’t think a thing about it. Keep your head juices to yourself, sir. Blech.)
So, how do I comfort myself under these dire circumstances? How do I ever enjoy a shower or a hot bath after a workout? How can I ever look at our bathroom sink in the eye again after seeing it defiled by a man’s dirty underwear?
I’ll tell you how: thick, heavy, fluffy, super-absorbent towels. As I’ve clarified before, I’m not a fancy-pants; however, there are two types of products that I’m willing to spend money on to help guarantee a quality consumer experience—sheets and towels. I usually buy sheet sets from Overstock.com or SmartBargains.com and, thus, can purchase 600-thread-count sateen sheets for around $50-60, which isn’t a bad price at all for a thread count that isn’t bad at all. So that’s what I do.
Towels have been more hit-and-miss, but, a few years ago, I finally found towels that I love almost more than I love my child, and I found them at JCPenney. They were pricey at full price, but JCP frequently put them on sale and offered additional coupon codes for the online store. They recently discontinued my original favorite towels but replaced them with an equally impressive and almost-exactly-the-same choice: the Supima® Cotton 6-pc. Bath Towel Set.
I like buying sets of bath towels, hand towels, and washcloths. I want to buy two or three sets when they’re on sale and be done with the process. (Have I mentioned that I’m lazy?)
I. Love. These. Towels. The bath towels are a couple inches longer than a typical bath towel, which is a small luxury that I quickly got used to, and the hand towels are a little bigger, too. They look fresh and extra full when I hang a clean one for people to use after washing their hands. The bath towels have a HEFT to them that most towels, even really expensive towels, don’t have. They are heavy, soft, and absorbent on tender, freshly-washed skin. They are, in a word, beautiful.
The original version was offered in white instead of ivory, and that’s the color I bought so that I could bleach them as needed, like when a juice-excreting man has been using my bath towel. I’ve had my sets for three years now—three years! That’s CRAZY impressive. They’ve been washed, bleached, oxygen-brightened, and dried COUNTLESS times, and they have no snags or loose threads. If they ever start looking dingy (as all white laundry can and does), I just bleach them again.
I take towels very seriously, and this is my towel recommendation. I have a handsome husband, but, more importantly, I have handsome towels. Vanity is gross, but desiring a luxurious bath towel? Well, that’s just good sense.