I know that you’ve all been waiting on pins and needles for me to tell you the cross-dressing story, so here ya go.

When Huz was packing for our trip Thursday night, he asked what I thought he should wear – the wedding was in the afternoon, in the mountains, and likely pretty casual, so I told him that a suit would be too much. I suggested a dress shirt and slacks. So, he agreed and packed his bag quickly, then went on to do what Huz does – blog or do Ph.D. work. The next day we got up and left the house at 6:00 because we had a 5 hour drive ahead of us and the wedding started at 1:00. We tried to check into the hotel early so that we’d have a place to change into our nice clothes before rushing off to the wedding, but the hotel dude wouldn’t let us, so we used the facilities in the lobby. I changed and went to the car to wait for Huz. He came out all frazzled because he forgot to pack his belt. He was pretty upset about it because he hated how he looked without one, but we only had about 20 minutes until the wedding started. We didn’t want to be late because the last wedding we went to we were so late that when we got seated in the church, the minister was pronouncing the couple man and wife! I did not want to repeat that, so we were on the lookout for a clothing store on the drive from the hotel to the chapel, but no such luck. It was a very small mountain town in North Carolina – what did we expect? We did, however, spot a thrift store on the way, so Huz zoomed into the tiny parking lot that had no open parking left and double-parked while he ran in to find a suitable belt. I anxiously waited in the car, looking behind me to make sure people could still get out of the lot and worried about the time. During my eternal-like wait, we got blocked into the lot by two other cars who were unloading all of their crap to donate to the thrift store. Oh man. We were going to be late and I wasn’t happy. Huz FINALLY came out of the store and we had to wait for the 2 cars to unload their junk (which was a lot!) and carry it into the store before they made room for us to leave. When on the road again, I took a look at the belt Huz bought and I burst out laughing. Not only was it hideous and worn to hell, but it was clearly a woman’s belt. The metal buckle was just a bit too curvy to be a man’s belt, plus it should have clued him in that it was a women’s belt when it barely fit on the first hole. I couldn’t stop laughing and then he did too, flinging it off and throwing it into the backseat. I guess that twelve cents is down the drain!

I’m afraid the belt wasn’t on him long enough for me to take a picture, but I do have one of the belt itself and one of him without one (to which he said to me as I took the picture, “that BETTER be taken from above the waist!” – sorry, Huz, it wasn’t!).

Forgot his belt!

12 cent WOMAN'S belt

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