How far would you go for a pretend husband?

Today I let go of the last tidbit of my pretend, three-week marriage. It was my Dallas Cowboy cheerleader outfit.

Every single girl should have a crazy sexy outfit. At least for a while.

So here's the story. On Labor Day weekend under a beautiful sunset on the lake, I got married. Pretend married. During our pretend vows, my pretend husband said "I do."

"Do you take this man . . . " yada yada, the boat captain said.

"Sure," I said.

For days I took grief from him for my aloof "sure" answer. A couple of days later, we were sitting at the pub. His answer to everything was "sure." Would you like another drink? Sure. Can I have a cigarette? Sure. Wanna climb Mt. Everest? Sure.

"All you could say was sure?" he said to me.

"I'm sorry. It's done. I can't take it back. What can I do to make up for it?" I said.

He smiled. "Wear a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader outfit."

"That's all?" I asked. So I ordered one. Why not? It could be my Halloween costumer since I'm sure I'd frighten myself and small children in it.

And I was right. The outfit was obscene - especially the top. A bikini would have been safer. It wasn't bad if I didn't move. But moving meant I'd flash whoever was looking. And if I raised my arms, my boobs would fall out. I don't even think lingerie tape would have done the trick. There just wasn't enough fabric. The sleeves had waaaayyy more material than the top.

Unfortunately, all my pretend husband saw was this picture of it. I don't mind getting a little daring, but I could never wear it outside my apartment.

Now I have the fond memories of my pretend marriage and my pretend days as a Dallas Cowboy cheerleader.

Love to the single girls,
Addison