Well, it’s 10:45pm where I am tonight and of course I just remembered that tomorrow is (Half-Nekkid) Thursday, so I attempted a pic. I stripped down, put on my new black fringed top that will be on me for the next play party on Saturday, put on a brand new pair of lacy black boy short undies and plopped the camera in M’s hand.
It was wrong. I tossed the camera aside in disgust. Pasty, dimply thighs, hunched back, ungraceful hands. What the hell was I thinking? I don’t think I’ve ever felt unsexier in my life. I stripped back down and put on my SpongeBob jammies in frustrated resignation.
M is frustrated too. She couldn’t keep her hands off me – almost literally. I kept having to push her away so she’d take a picture, only to have to do it again once she’d snapped the (awful) shot. She apparently thought I was sexy. But how much does that help when I feel like the Michelin Man trying to be a Playboy Bunny?
Oddly enough, though, as I sit here writing this (still in Spongebob jammies!) I’m feeling sexy again. Lord only knows what my hair looks like. Probably not great. The top accompanying those oh-so-couture cartoon pants is an old, faded black tank top. The elastic lining the shelf bra inside the top is about to fall off completely. Any makeup that might have been on earlier in the day is totally gone now. (Anyone else experience total makeup meltdown? It sucks.)
But I feel… comfy. And sexy. Just like I felt pretty sexy earlier this evening in my black track pants and the black v-neck top I had worn to work. Funny how things work.
So apparently I was trying too hard. And that definitely is not sexy, on anyone.
I guess next time I’ll get M to take a pic of the jammies, eh?