I am convinced that sexy is a state of mind. A while back I wrote “Beauty Confession – My Wake-Up Call”. This post is a sort of follow-on.
Hi, my name is Shelley…and I’m sexy as all heck. Killer curves with the occassional speedbump and tiny eyes. Zero grace (I’d never cut it as a ballerina) and quick wit (read razor sharp tongue) with a style all my own stuck somewhere between the 80’s and space. Physically unfit with a “resting bitch face” (so unapproachable) until you get to know me. Shy, though I don’t seem it (one learns to mask this as one grows older). Nerd of note. Queen of corn. Friendly to most and friend to few.
I am not society’s idea of sexy. I am not most men’s idea of sexy (never was). I am certainly not most women’s idea of sexy because some of us (women) either never outgrow high school or project our own insecurities upon others. My husband thinks me sexy (maybe he’s guilted into this? But then again…he doesn’t have a choice).
Growing up most of my friends were boys. Me being a tomboy meant that more often than not I was automatically friendzoned and dubbed “one of the guys”. The only girly thing about me is that I love all things fashion but prefer to live my life in torn jeans, sweats, tee’s and sneaks.
We grow up thinking that model or pinup are the only ideals for sexy. You know, the bod, boobs and bum equation? Those women – the models and pinups – have their insecurities too. It’s a pretty superficial world they live in. We’re always comparing ourselves to the next woman. We tear each other down…and for what? Newsflash – there is no ideal body shape. The ideal size is healthy. Whatever that may mean to you (and your doctor).
The definition of sexy differs from person to person.You think you’re sexy? Girl, own it and strut! Nothing wrong with a bit of peacockery. Throw societal ideals out the window and know that if you think you’re sexy it will show and overflow. Own it. Real talk. It’s easier for us to tear ourselves down when we stand before that mirror. It’s time to wake up and smell the cocoa, baby. You’re a freaking powerhouse! A force to be reckoned with. You’re badass. You run this. You don’t need validation from any man or woman. You are enough. You are hotness personified. You are a slay queen..so slay, Queen.
Sexy is a state of mind. It’s time for a paradigm shift. Own your curves, however subtle (or not) they be. Your dimples and pimples. Your too straight too frizzy hair. Your gap tooth, your overbite. Your bespeckled squint, your gimp and limp. Let’s learn to love ourselves. Women breaking down women is a sign of pouring from an empty or defunkt cup. More building up, less breaking down. You’re a goddess, a queen, an absolute stunner.
The tiniest things on my body are my eyes. They’re like little slits. They have a slanted shape so I cat the living heck out those eyes. My lips are full but uneventful so I paint the town red with them. My hair? Starting to host it’s own colour run now I’m heading toward Club 40 so I channel my inner footballer, albeit one who’s razor-happy. Everything else on my body leans more toward supersize. Nothing that good shoes and well-fitted clothes (and a properly fitted bra) can’t fix. Yes, I wear loads of black but I’m not shy to clothe myself in the full spectrum of the rainbow and then some. I’ve developed my style over the last twenty years. It’s mine. I look good. I feel good. I own this.
Hi, my name is Shelley. Sexy is a state of mind…and damn, I’m fine. it took me years to know this opinionated fact about myself. So, how about you, hot mama? Feeling fine today?