When I met my husband, he thought jean shorts were a good fashion statement; I preferred khakis. He thought that sleeping with a mattress on the floor was cozy; I opted for a bedframe and headboard.

Looking back, I realize that Jack was somewhat of a fixer-upper. Bad clothes, foul language -- just to name a few of his attributes that touched on my pet peeves. Perhaps what I was aiming for was a man who I saw as a "project."

Apparently women like to have a little man canvas on which we can draw our ideal Romeo. Bad haircut? Take him to your stylist. Nasty smoking habit? Nicotine gum and patches. Hideous wardrobe? Time to go shopping!

Some men take to the project management quite nicely, enjoying the new duds we supply and the sudden extra care. Others find that their woman is just trying to mess with something that was fine to begin with. Jack reminds me that the women before me liked the goatee I couldn't stand.

While Jack may laugh about his jean shorts, he would wear them proudly today. He doesn't care what he wears, and I admire that. There is something attractive about a person who feels good about himself no matter what he looks like, but a little man improvement goes a long way.

Looking good and feeling good go together as far as I'm concerned. So I lay out his clothes when I have time to prevent him from wearing navy and black, athletic socks with dress shoes or another silly combo. It's nice to make my man look as attractive as he can, and he enjoys the compliments.

After all, isn't it part of the relationship deal to bring out the best in each other? Beyond the superficial, we have helped each other become better people. Throughout the years he has taught me to listen better, while I think I've taught him to let go of his grudges. We both have learned patience and the art of compromise.

Yet, I realize as much as we can help each other, there is a line between helping and bossing. I worry that I cross that too often when I hear myself saying, "Tuck in your shirt." "Don't talk so loud." "Who says 'ain't'?"

Left to his own devices, he will dress like a bum, eat chips for dinner and play computer games for hours on end. Everyone in a relationship is forced to deal with the annoyingness of another person.

So how do I handle my husband's unpleasant habits without sounding like a total nag? He's a person, not a project, regardless of how fun it is to dress him up and encourage him to place his napkin on his lap.

The first step is to look at myself in the mirror at the imperfect specimen I am. My list of faults is far from short, which Jack likes to remind me. He says I talk too much, spend too much, go out too much, do everything too much. He prefers the laid-back lifestyle and I am always on the go. I worry too much about what other people think, while he probably should worry a little more.

We aren't perfect, but that doesn't mean we need to tell each other. Sure, a gentle nudging is fine. How will he know that he talked with his mouth full if I didn't tell him?

Then again, if I didn't tell him, what would go wrong? If I didn't mention that he smelled like onions after eating onions, would the world be a worse place? It might smell better, but probably not much more than that.

So as I trudge, skip, crawl, breeze and meander through my fifth year of marriage, I am learning another skill. This one I have heard about since I was little, but it never really meant much to me until I lived with a man who throws his dirty socks on the living room floor and doesn't need to be fully clothed to eat a meal.

I am learning acceptance. It's easy to accept a person's faults if you don't see him every day. I have friends who would drive me nuts if we lived together. Even in a new relationship, that "cute" habit of biting his nails loses its charm after enough months.

So Jack, my fixer-upper, is no longer going to be a project around our house. I cannot say I won't pick out clothes for him or suggest he talk a little lower on his cell phone in public. But I will do a better job of accepting what I cannot change.

I fell in love with the man who wore jean shorts on special occasions. And he fell in love with the woman who interrupts his conversations. Luckily we have many years ahead to deal with all those nitpicky tidbits. What's more, we now have two children to remind us how flawed we really are.

Laura Lewis Brown is the mother of infant twins. Her column appears every other Thursday.