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Husband’s Jeans

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He’ll be embarrassed to read this.

And my Dad probably won’t make it past these first few lines.

But there is a sight I love to see that graces the walls of this barn with increasing frequency.

Husband…in his work jeans.

Husband and his jeans were what sparked this whole crazy six-year relationship.  He stood up, pulled them on and as the dimples in his lower back flexed as he slipped on his T-shirt my heart went pitter patter.

My Husband has the perfect tush.  Its tight, bubbly, and no matter what jeans he wears they hug it to perfection.

But no amount of times seeing him in his Rock and Republics or Guess denim could have prepared me for the heart-stopping, jaw-dropping sight of Husband in his rugged, slightly dirty work jeans.

I haven’t ever been much of a man’s man type of woman.  I tend to like my guys dressed in sharp looking clothes and an air of class about them.

But there is something about big bulky work boots and slouchy jeans, a touch of sweat in just the right places and blue eyes staring at me over his perfectly crooked smile that undoes any composure I have.

I could kiss my father in-law for compiling a mile long to-do list that requires Husband to don my favorite outfit and do manly things like chop wood or feed the cows or load big things into big trucks.

The view outside the barn is to die for, but the view inside the barn may be the best I’ve ever seen 🙂

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