My FN Feet

I love a good argument.
Growing up my mom used to tell me that I should become a lawyer.
I argued a lot with my parents. Mostly, I lost.
But I guess she thought I argued well enough to be a lawyer.
I don’t like debating … that’s way too formal for me.
Sometimes I like to swear when I argue … can’t do that in a debate.
One time … on a serious subject … I suggested to my wife that we should debate the issue.
She laughed and said … "What? You’re not going to swear?”
I thought it was funny too. I said ”Forget it!”
She had me … How can I win … laughing and not swearing?
I used to tell my kids … ”Don’t you argue with me!”
Now that I think of it … why would I do that?
I have deprived them of a skill I should have handed down to them.
Well … luckily … they’re women. Arguing comes natural to women.
We can argue about that … some other time, maybe.
See how I did that? You didn’t even have a chance to win that one.
Mom was right … I am good.
I’m even good at avoiding arguments.
”Honey, Do I look fat in this dress?” She’d challenge me.
”Oh sweetheart … “ I’d say ”… Have you taken a good look at me lately?” and without missing a beat, to keep her off balance, I add … "My hairline is so far back now I can’t tilt my head forward enough to see beyond my way-too bushy eyebrows and while I look into the mirror I can’t help but notice that I can actually comb over my ear and nose hairs to help the lack of hair beyond my forehead not to mention it all seems to be turning grey … which reminds me … look here at my grey chest hairs … OH MY GOD … I’m looking down and I can’t see my fn feet … where are my fn feet? Honey? I ask "Do you think I look too fat?”
Then she says “Oh honey, come here, you need a hug, stop being silly.”
Argument avoided … Argument in disguise, won … mom was right.