Today is my baby brother’s birthday. He’s 31. He is now officially in his 30s…as opposed to just being 30. I don’t know about you guys, but for me that was a painful transition.
My brother recently started visiting me here on Fumbling and I think he secretly gets a kick out of it when I write stuff about him. So today…in honor of his birthday…I’m going to write a whole post about him. I’m sure he’s thrilled right now…wondering just what is in store for him. Oh brother dear, I think you know what I’m going to tell everyone.
In order to fully appreciate the story I’m going to tell, you really have to know my brother. Since you don’t, I’ll give you some background…
My brother was always a typical guy…even when he was a baby. His room was always a mess. His clothes were always disheveled. He was often found playing in the dirt…or, as he got older, working on a car.
He was about comfort and utility. His wardrobe usually consisted of one pair of jeans, one pair of sneakers, several pairs of basketball shorts and many, many t-shirts. He would wear these clothes and shoes until they literally fell apart or, in the case of sneakers, smelled so bad, that he had no choice but to replace them. He always had this weird obsession about being clean and would often shower multiple times per day…but he just didn’t put that much effort into his wardrobe. Case in point…
After he met my sister-in-law we started to notice that things were slowly changing. Like the time he told my father what kind of fabric softener that my mom liked. We all used the fabric softener in that house for years…but he was the only one who knew what kind it was. Then there was the time that my mother was buying sheets and he told her to make sure to get a thread count of at least 400. Um…wait…what? Since when does my brother know anything about thread count?
The transformation happened slowly. First he started wearing slacks. Then he bought leather flip-flops that cost $100. Then he got really excited over the Nordstrom anniversary sale. Then…instead of a rottweiler, they got a cockapoo. Don’t get me wrong…she’s awesome…but she’s no rottweiler.
Recently I have learned that my brother’s transformation is complete. He is now a full-fledged, card-carrying METROSEXUAL. I present the following story into evidence.
We are all in the funeral home the other night at my aunt’s wake. My dad is sitting next to me, J is standing on my other side and my brother and SIL are standing in front of me. I think my mom was there too. My brother glances down at my dad’s shoes and says to my SIL “I’m really glad that I didn’t wear my Calvin Klein shoes.” I respond “Why, are they uncomfortable.” He says…”No. They are just almost the same as the shoes Daddy is wearing and then we would have looked like idiots.”
Really? Because I’m pretty sure no one would have ever noticed. What is this…Project Runway?
He was totally serious.
Then my sister-in-law picked a piece of dog fuzz off his suit. He said to her “There’s still dog hair on me? I don’t understand…I lint-rolled in the car.”
Wait…you what now?
This is my brother, people! He doesn’t lint-roll. He doesn’t even know what a lint-roller is!
But apparently, he does.
Because now…he’s all dapper.
I have to say…it’s quite the impressive transformation. He looks very handsome all dressed up and it’s adorable the way his eyes light up when he shows me all his new shoes. (Last time I went to his house, there were like 4 new pairs!)
I was giving my sister-in-law full credit for this transformation. But then I remembered this…
Apparently…he was dapper at a very young age.
Happy Birthday!!!! And remember…I tease you because I love you! (Also, I’m sure you’ll get me back someday.)