I bet you’ve been wondering where the heck I got the idea for Sexy Month — this being a sewing and personal style blog, and me being about as vampish as a brick. Well, just before I began this blog I subscribed to a bunch of women’s fashion magazines, in a bid to learn how to make myself look as much like other women as possible. (I even reviewed an issue!) That’s where the third focus of this blog, fashion, comes from.
As I read the magazines, I noticed the emphasis on being sexy. A woman was expected to be sexy everywhere. Sexy at the beach, sexy at work, sexy at night, sexy during the day, sexy sexy sexy. It seemed ridiculous to me. How could women simultaneously strive to be seen as sexual creatures 24/7 and also demand to be taken seriously in various arenas, from child rearing to executive leadership to sports? But no one else seemed to be asking this question, so I did my best to up my own sexy quotient…
…unsuccessfully. I did begin wearing light makeup every day, and made a greater effort to wear wedge heels (I can’t yet walk in pumps). I became more playful with my outfits. But I didn’t feel sexy: I felt insecure. I constantly compared myself, and quite harshly, to other women. It became an internal cacophony of ‘I’m too fat to be sexy’, ‘I’m too old to wear that’, ‘my hair is unattractive’, ‘my cuticles are disgusting’, etc. Mind you, I’m no supermodel: I am fat, I am over thirty, and I did need both a manicure and a trim. But the self-hate? That had to go.
So I ditched trying to be sexy, and instead began picking and choosing what elements I’d take away from the magazines, and which I’d leave in their glossy pages. I began to feel better about myself. And … I began to feel sexy. Not because I’d done anything specific; instead, I felt sexy because I relaxed and appreciated and enjoyed my body and my life. And I was so excited about this change that I wanted to devote a whole month to being sexy! Hence Sexy Month.
The joke, of course, is that I’m a late bloomer. Every adult woman who wants to be sexy, knows how to be. And those who are uninterested, are not going to try. So while I initially thought I was bringing the Word to the thirsty masses, I am, in fact, preaching to the backs of the converted.
Irony, my friends, is sexy.