A Valentine’s Day filled with love, romance and hooker heels

On the eve of yet another Valentine’s Day, as well as my 43rd birthday, it suddenly dawned on me – I have no fucking clue what it means to be sexy anymore.

And after I gasped in fear at that realization, the next thought that entered my head is that I’m too young to feel this old. I don’t feel my age, and I certainly don’t act nor look my age. But sometimes I feel as if I’ve lost my Mojo. Ya know, that thing that makes you feel you got Game, you’ve got Swag, you’ve got it goin’ on.

Eh. Just reading that last sentence exhausted me. Anyhoo…

I suddenly want to hit up my local Lover’s Lane and buy a feathered boa, naughty nurse costume and the highest clear platform shoes I can walk in. Yea, I need some hooker heels. Because that’s sexy, right?

So how does this happen? I read Glamour and Cosmo monthly. I like to think I know my shit, but am I really this clueless? Am I seriously this out-of-touch with reality? Is this a sign of the Apocalypse? I suddenly feel the need to take pole-dancing lessons offered at my local suburban dance academy, or at least host a pole party in my own house, ‘cause that’s sexy, right?

And yes, this is coming from a blogger that completed a 30-Day Sex Challenge, which attracted local media attention. But that was all about sex, nothing to do with what is sexy. Big difference!

I’ve been with the same man for (what feels like) forever and am the mom of two amazing kids. My body is not the same as it was 12 years ago, when I first gave birth. But if you ask my Hubby, he thinks I’m sexy all the time; cooking in the kitchen, dusting the furniture, folding laundry or doing nothing at all. As a WAHM, I spend most of my days in yoga pants, crappy t-shirts, hair thrown up in a clip, no make-up, completely frazzled and looking quite the hot mess. Apparently, this turns him on.

Really? So after all these years, after countless visits to my local adult store, investing hundreds of dollars in ridiculous costumes, battery-operated toys and lotions of every flavor, all he wants is…me? In the raw. Just me?

How does this happen?!

I’m still trying to wrap my brain around the complicated fact that at the end of the day, all men simply want is us, in our natural state, as we are.

I admit, I’m not quite the young broad I once was. But with age comes experience, tolerance, understanding, compassion and a strength I’ve never known. These characteristics alone make me the sexiest bitch I never knew I could be. And my boobs are still epic.

Hold on…screw the hooker heels, I think I got this covered.

 

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