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What's yours is mine - except the toothbrush

AN AFTERNOON IN CENTRAL PARK
AN AFTERNOON IN CENTRAL PARK

My husband and I share everything. Hopes, dreams, McDonald's French Fries - they're all up for grabs. But don't be mistaken. There is a line, and he better not cross it.

Patrick learned early on what was and wasn't okay in our marriage. Using my towel - totally fine. Razor - not a big deal. I've never been one to fuss over the little things. They simply aren't worth it. My toothbrush, on the other hand, is completely off limits.

The discussion on this strange and most unlikely topic arose after a recent visit by my older sister Amy. I knew exactly what she meant when she yelled, "Jen, which one of these toothbrushes is yours," her first evening in town.

"Don't even think about it," I hollered back, quickly making my way to the bathroom. "You ARE NOT using my toothbrush!"

Call me crazy, but I strongly feel that any apparatus designed specifically for removing plaque and dinner remnants from the crevices of your teeth should not, under any circumstances, be shared. Yes, even if it's with my husband.

Patrick, of course, could care less. I'm not sure if it was his African upbringing or overall laid-back nature that led him to believe that such an action was acceptable, but I was quick to vocalize that in this specific instance, his opinion was in fact wrong.

Though he continues to disagree with this viewpoint, Patrick knows very well that what's his is mine - except the toothbrush.

If you liked this, also check out Spring Break and the marriage that followed, Celebrate your marital success and More than a crush - criteria for true love.

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