newcar My husband Dave and I went car shopping today. He knew exactly what he wanted, picked it out, and we went for a test drive.

Even though it’s his car and I thought I couldn’t care less about it, he drew the following out of me when he was about to sign on the dotted line.

Dave: So you like the car, right?

Me: Yeah. Sorta.

Dave: Sorta?

Me: I don’t like the passenger seat.

Dave: How so?

Me: It makes me look fat.

Dave: Come again?

Me: It makes me look fat. I feel like a giant.

Dave: What in the hell are you talking about?

Me: The seat isn’t low enough and I feel like I’m sitting up too high. Higher than the driver’s seat.

Dave: The seats were adjusted the same.

Me: No they weren’t.

Dave (to the saleswoman): Do you believe this?

Saleswoman: Do you want me to bring another car around to test the seat?

Me: Um. Do you mind?

We wait a while until the exact same car in another color is driven around to the front of the dealership.

We walk outside and I get in the new and improved, make-me-look-skinnier car.

The seat is exactly the same as the other one, but somehow I don’t look as fat as I thought I looked before. I went back to the original car and, magically, it didn’t make me look fat.

So either my fat perception is off a little or, more likely, maybe I’m just insane.

Pity my husband. The guy’s got his hands full.

Stumble it!