I am Not a Sex Kitten.

sexkitten

I hesitated prior to posting this out of fear of being alone in my feelings.

I am not a sex kitten.

Using the word sexy to describe myself would be in the form of either sarcasm or a joke.

Unfortunately I am made to feel like a misfit because I am not sexy. Made to feel like a failure because I cannot sport visible garters and thigh highs. I am not one who can fill out a corset in all the right places. I’d look a fool in leather pants and high heels. I do not sleep in lace and silk but rather cotton and granny panties.

I am reminded again and again of my failure at being a sex symbol from Celebrity Apprentice to American Horror Story to comedies such as This is Where I Leave You  to thrillers like Gone Girl. The big boobs, silky hair and long legs found on the screen will not be found here. I am on the verge of feeling sorry for my husband as he sits next to me in my robe and flannel pants with my hair piled on top of my head.

Don’t give me that crap about “it’s the way you carry yourself” … the clear difference I am talking about is when I am walking into a store in my jeans, sweater, pony tail and furry boots with Kleenex and snacks billowing out of my pockets as three little ones bicker about me and I run into a woman with a dewy glow, a deep red pout, lashes full and dark with a butt outlined in the latest skinny jean and a waist emphasized by a body hugging and clickity-clackiting on high heels as she saunters down the aisles. Take a guess on who a man will take a second look at. I’m referring to the scenes in our favorite television shows and movies where the fit and trim wife and mother of 4 greets her husband in a nightie when he gets home from work and he slams her on the kitchen counter for a quickie before the kids get home from soccer practice. WTF? I’m lucky if I can have dinner on the kitchen counter and sippy cups off the ground and a smile on my face when my poor sex-kitten deprived husband walks through the door.

I envy the women who are able to post sexy selfie after sexy selfie. I wish I had that look of pin-up girl and not the girl next door. The ladies who look amazing in the light of their cars as they snap a selfie post-workout or holding their Starbuck’s purchase. I wish they could teach me. The last time I took a remotely provocative picture I was 21 and in college probably a half a keg deep at 3 am wearing less clothing than Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.  To get a better sense of what it actually took to take a “sexy selfie” I did a little investigating. What I found turned my girl next door frown upside down as I laughed and gasped at the images and tips that danced across my Smartphone screen. If you are a fellow “girl next door” rather than a “rap video dancer”please Google “sexy selfie”  and click Images for a good laugh. My feelings of failure were quickly diminished because though I may not be sleeping in the nude with perky big boobs and an ass that women envy, my picture will not be found in this line up of TMI and sexiness gone wrong.

I also find comfort in knowing that at the young age of 31 I still have plenty of time to conquer the “sexy selfie”, maybe take a pole dancing class or two, possibly go an extra step of getting in front of the camera by doing a mommy boudoir shoot and (once the kids are in school) greet my husband at the door in a nightie with a steak and baked potato with the kitchen counter clean for more than eating off of.

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