I do not play games with my dude. I ask, "Does this look okay?" and he correctly translates that to, "Does this look okay, or should I change? If I should change, what should I wear? I am not feeling like myself today, and I need to know for sure I look nice before I will be willing to leave. If you take too long to answer, I'm going to change my hair." He either walks around me and straightens my hems, and leads me to the door, or picks out a new outfit, brings me the correct bra for the new top, and gives me a spritz of perfume for luck and confidence. If it is a bad hair day, he will bring me a wig and a wig brush. Sometimes Miami and my hair do not get along. Anyway. If I ask those kinds of questions, he knows I'm being serious and want the right answer.
Oh my god. Last week, I got dressed, asked him how I looked, and he frowned and said, "All of those clothes are way too big. It looks like a circus is under there." So I changed. He was too busy to help me choose an outfit, because his family was coming to visit. My weight fluctuates a lot, so I always have clothes that are ill-fitting thrown in with clothes that are perfect. When I came back out, he frowned again, tugged at my sleeves, mushed in my boobs, and shook his head, saying, "Too small. Don't worry, you can wear that again in another 5-10 pounds. It's close." My bum never looks big in anything. My arms? My boobs? Oy. Dressing them is obnoxious.