How do YOU make yourself feel sexy?

For years I didn't feel sexy.

When I was in my teens and twenties I did...sort of. In my teens it was dicey because I couldn't seem to get a boy to be interested in me. I wore the tight jeans--the kind that forced you to slide into your desk sideways and stick your legs out in order to avoid being cut in half--and I had the 80's hair. I smiled at a few boys, and even managed to get one to kiss me. But for the most part the boys in my age range weren't interested in a rather outspoken Sci-Fi freak whose abilities in math could shame even the nerdiest pocket-protector-toting geek. Let alone the star of the volleyball team. Apparently teenage boys don't like girls that are smarter than they are. Who knew?

So, not until I met my number one hunny at the tender age of 19 did I really start to feel like I had the kind of sex appeal required to lure all those good little Mennonite boys into temptation. Alas, however, the very first boy I dated was so perfect that I never needed to look any further! Therefore my exposure to the opposite sex, and hence the affirmation of my sex appeal, ended up being very limited.

So, through the years of marriage, home-ownership, pregnancy, lactation and motherhood...my wonderful hunny continued to always tell me how beautiful and sexy I was. And that is wonderful! However...I confess that after 20 years it started to lose it's...zing. And I confess that through those years of pregnancy and looking after toddlers I pretty much gave up on the whole sex appeal thing. What's the point, after all when you spend much of your free time wiping up poop and mopping up puke? But then...suddenly...and yes, I do believe it was right around that proverbial female sexual peak...I decided it was time to get off my ample butt and start to feel like a woman again! And I did. I lost 30 pounds, grew out my hair, and bought my first pair of low-rise jeans. I looked in the mirror and liked what I saw. But I still didn't feel sexy. Not...really. And at the time...I couldn't really say why. And then it happened--the epiphany!

I had gone out to a bar to meet some girlfriends for an evening of dancing. However...arriving at the ridiculously early hour of 10:00 pm....left me waiting for my girlfriends all alone. Not being particularly shy I got a drink at the bar and sat down to wait. The first to approach was a college age boy with a rye and coke and a goofy smile who sat down beside me and proceeded to inflate my ego exponentially. I'm not sure if he...flirted exactly, however I did come away from that table with a perpetual invitation to keg parties at his house. (I have yet to take him up on that.) But it was upon walking away from that table that the real fun began.

I heard my name called and was startled to discover two of those volley-ball playing jocks from my old highschool...two men who in 1982 barely knew I existed, and who had, on occasion teased my geeky friends and myself to distraction. Well...it seemed that NOW the distraction was on the other foot. These two divorcees on the make had eyes that were so big, and jaws that had dropped so far that I almost thought I was going to have to start mopping up their drool. I confess it felt good...damn good to turn away their advances with a little flick of my wrist. "Sorry boys. I am sooooo out of your league."

Okay...I didn't say that. Not out loud, anyway. But the way that little experience made me feel was...beyond description. It was the boost and the affirmation that I had been seeking...and I hadn't even known it. Of course I came home and told #1 hunny all about it. He was fine with the flirtation, but I think he was a little hurt when he said, "I've been telling you you're beautiful and sexy for years. Doesn't it mean the same coming from me?" And I replied bluntly, "You know I love you, but...No. It doesn't." Sad, perhaps...but true.
This is a man who looked at me during the bloating and pain of childbirth and still TRULY believed I was beautiful. That means something, of course. It means everything! But there is a part of me that wants to be seen as sexy just because of the way a pair of jeans hug my ass, and the way a push up bra sets off a low-cut top. It's about walking down the street and FEELING sexy. Feeling like you stand out. Feeling superficially special, I suppose.

I guess it is superficial...and probably somewhat sad, but I don't think I'm alone in that feeling. FAct is I've put a few pounds back on again, and I'm not quite as sveldt and toned as I was five years ago, but I still have that feeling. When I do myself up, and put on those low-rise jeans, I feel good about who I am. I feel confident and sexy, and when I walk down the street I feel good about myself. And if it meant I had to crush a couple of old highschool bad-asses to get that feeling...then too bad for them. And YAY for me.

I think we all have to take that feeling wherever we can get it. Whether it's by spending $150 on a kick-ass hair style, or picking up a sexy pair of thigh-high boots....Whether it's by lacing yourself into a corsette until you've got "bum back" and your waistline has been cut down by a third....Whether it's by getting your nails done or treating (hmm...not sure THAT's the right word) yourself to a Brazilian wax....

It doesn't matter.
Do what you gotta do to find your inner Diva...and make no apologies for it!

(This entry is cross-posted from Diary of a Sex Diva)