A little doppelganger of my husband sits on my shoulder while I’m clothes shopping. I pick up a shirt in a pretty shade of blue-green. “No teal!” the little husband hollers in my ear. I move along. Next I find something in gray. “Too drab,” he objects. “You should wear brighter colors.” I move along. Soon I spot a comfy-looking sweater. The little husband gets apoplectic over that one. “That’s something your mother would wear!” Is that such a bad thing? “It is!” So the little husband steers me toward a more form-fitting sweater, but he nearly flips on me when I reach for the blue-green. “I said no teal! Try the brown.” I hesitate, because he did just tell me to wear brighter colors. “It’s OK. It goes with your hair.” He’s right. It does.
He’s devil-hard to please, that little husband on my shoulder, but he’s not so bad. He has good taste. And he doesn’t say a word when I stop in the jewelry section and pick out a jeweled butterfly pin that I’ll probably never wear. He knows how much I like sparkly things. He also doesn’t complain about being dragged from store to store. He’s actually a pretty good shopping companion, all things considered.
I make my purchases and bring them home. I tell my real husband about how his doppelganger was with me the whole time. I think maybe he’ll say that it’s crazy. Instead, he says, “I know exactly what you mean. There’s a little doppelganger of you that goes everywhere with me!”