In our home, anniversaries aren’t just dates on a calendar — they’re milestones worth celebrating. We mark January 26th, the day of our first date, and the eighth of every month, our wedding anniversary. Most recently, we celebrated the anniversary of the day I proposed. It was our second, and we decided — why not make an evening of it?
My wife cooked us dinner; I brought home a dozen roses. We spent the night talking, sipping wine, and dancing between kisses. The mood was playful, the kind of night where teasing becomes its own love language.
As we flirted, I told her how stunning she looked. “Your new breasts look amazing,” I said, admiring her figure. She smiled mischievously and replied, “You’ve got amazing legs. If I were a sculptor, I’d carve everything below your waist.”
I gave her a puzzled look.
“I mean,” she clarified, “you have a belly.”
She wasn’t wrong. I laughed. “Wow. You only like me from the waist down?”
“Not true,” she said quickly, defending herself with a grin. “I love your penis, balls, legs, and feet. Just not the belly.”
“And my face?” I asked, half curious, half amused.
“And your face,” she said, smiling. “I’d sculpt your face, chest, and everything below your waist.”
Apparently, in her imagined marble masterpiece of me, I’d be a statue without a stomach — leaving the rest to the viewer’s imagination.
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