To shorten a terribly long and boring story, it took me three trips to the BMV to get my driving license and register my car. On the third trip I finally got to the step of taking the written test for the driving license. The first question had to do with the stopping distance of trucks! I was sure I was going to fail, but the rest of them were quite a bit easier. (I looked up the stopping distance of trucks later and found out I actually answered it right.)
|My first driver's test was in this kind of car, 1962 Chevrolet Bel Air.|
In our state, you don't find out your score. It's simply Pass/Fail. Fortunately, I passed, thus saving a fourth trip. Then came the dreaded 'mug shot' picture, and the question that would have been even more dreaded if I had not forgotten that they ask it.
So there I am, sitting next to my husband, and they ask the question.
How much do you weigh?
While I know what I look like, I have avoided giving my husband a specific number. I really did not want him to know the exact number, which incidentally is about 40 pounds more than he weighs. I thought briefly of lying, but really? Is it worth it to lie? Besides, the shape of my body gives evidence of the lie, though I could have gotten away with ten pounds or so I suppose.
So now he knows.
And you know what? He has not said one word. Not. one. word. The shame is all in my head.