What’s your number?

September 9, 2012, 11:29 pm
Filed under: Middle Age | Tags: Middle-Age, Sleep Number Bed

I’m in my forties, and things just don’t work the same anymore. As in, try going running with your 14-year-old daughter and see how humiliating that is. However, there are a few of cool things that come with being 40-something: first, you tend to know exactly what you want (a man with a 20-year-old-body and a 45-year-old brain); second, if there’s something you want, you’re usually no longer afraid to ask for it (“Yes, Waiter, I do want my steak cooked medium-well, and I don’t care what the chef thinks about that”); and third, if there’s something you really need, chances are that by now you can probably afford some version of it (a smooth bourbon and gingerale on a hot summer’s day–but I’ve been known to settle for warm beer and cheap pinot grigio).

That said, there are some expenses I’ve decided are worth it:

1. A good dye-job;
2. Membership at a gym (disguises hot flashes and you can hone your secret search for the elusive 20/45-year-old combination)
3. Underwear that fits, no matter how much it grosses out the kids (or Hubby)
4. Sunscreen (Yes, Dr. H, I was listening as you scraped off yet another questionable mole)
5. A good bed

Most of that is self-explanatory, except maybe the last one. But believe me, I think a good bed could put a lot of marriage counselors out of business.

In college, where Hubby and I met, we were happy to sleep together on twin beds (sorry Mom, it’s true). When we got married, we bought a queen–we were officially grown-ups! But when we moved to a king, well, that was Nirvana.

And yet…Hubby still managed to sleep diagonally, forcing me to curl into the fetal position all night. Later, after the kids were born, my back started hurting (go figure). For the next five, years Hubby and I spent each Saturday flipping the mattress, trying to make it comfortable (Hubby could sleep in a bowl of jello and be comfortable).

One day, we were walking through the mall when Hubby grabbed my hand and dragged me into the Sleep Number Store. Missing the shopping gene entirely, all I wanted to do was try a couple of mattresses so we could go to the cheaper places where there weren’t teenagers reeking of DIRK, or whatever the latest flavor of cologne was. Instead, and hour and a half later, we walked out having purchased a $4000 marriage-saving piece of furniture.

According to their machine in the store that measures pressure points when you lay down, Hubby likes sleeping in a hammock (#35), while I like something resembling plywood (#60). Our other mattress was definitely in the hammock category.

So we got the thing installed and marveled at how much better we were sleeping. Even The Dog was grateful (also a hammock sleeper). But there were added bonuses that I’m sure the company can’t/won’t advertise:

1. The diagonal sleeper can’t cross over to the other side without sinking or raising their legs above the level of their head.
2. There is a secret joy in annoying your spouse by inflating/deflating their side of the bed right before they crawl in. It’s a small thing, but sometimes it eliminates the need for words you might regret later.
3. If you sleep on the harder side, your spouse must first climb out of the ravine in order to approach you. There’s no sneaking a quick squeeze without causing a 6.0 earthquake, and it prevents overuse of the “I have a headache” excuse.
4. You can inflate the bed to rock-hard status for better sex. This is helpful because, let’s face it, none of us have the abs and back muscles we used to!

Yes, my world changed for the better with our acquisition. I am happy. Hubby is happy. Even The Dog is happy. Now if that gym membership would just get me those abs back…

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Comment by nikotin September 13, 2012 @ 4:06 pm