Sexiness. A quality that I have striven to dominate and make my bitch since a boy told me, “Miranda, you’re just cute.” My initial reaction was to think, “I’ll show you!” My fist raised in my mind’s eye in defiance. Why I didn’t just accept the compliment of being cute, I’ll never know… perhaps it was because it was accompanied with that word, ‘just’; indicating — in some way — that being cute wasn’t enough. You tell me that I am not enough, hint at it in any way, I am going to see that as a challenge — one that I can’t refuse.

So, I set out to become sexy, friend, and, I am going to be honest, my initial attempts at being sexy were ridiculous, and more of a cause for ridicule than anything else. I watched the women around me who I thought had ‘it’.That spark, that thing that made them ooze sex appeal. The way they carried themselves with aloofness, flipped their hair, and looked alluringly down their noses under their eye lashes. The casual sway of the hips, shoulders back, chin up.

These small things I saw and attempted to emulate. When a man approached me while out and about I fluttered my eyelashes and tossed my hair, eliciting the reaction, “Is there something in your eye?” The eyelash fluttering was partially caused by my previous hair tossing, which resulted in whipping myself in the face and then a profusion of eye watering. Hair flipping should come with a warning label.

The casual sway of my hips looked more like a limp, the result of some unfortunate accident and my alluring gaze made those around me think I was trying not to fart. In addition, I tried to do a sexy crawl, bite my lip, and casually moisten my lips with my tongue. All met with laughter, by the way.

With these failures in mind I knew that serious measures had to be taken. I went so far as to visit a ‘gentlemen’s club’ with two girlfriends. My goal was to observe these women… the way they moved and carried themselves. Perhaps, somehow, I could find some lesson here that I could take, make my own, and finally make that crossover from ‘cute’ to ‘sexy’.

One performer caught my eye. She was wearing a sports bra and boy shorts, knee socks and tennis shoes. One would assume that with the fact that she was wearing much more clothing than the women around her that she would receive the least attention, yet the floor around her was littered with green bills of various amounts and the stage around her had an audience cramped around her.

Her signature move was tossing her body down onto the ground and, in effect, humping it. Every time she did this move it was met with whoops and cat calls, and a plethora of dollar bills rained down upon her. Rationally I thought to myself, “A-ha! I think I can do that!”

Now, I am not one to assume I could do such an advanced move without practice, especially with my previous hair whipping fail… or without getting my best friend to watch and evaluate my attempt at being ‘sexy’. So, I practiced in the safety of my home. Turning 80s and 90s music on full blast, and prancing around my apartment. Once I felt I had sufficiently mastered the move I asked my gal pal if she wouldn’t mind observing and giving me some feedback.

So, one Friday night, after steeling my nerves with copious amounts of wine and girl giggling I was ready to turn up some tunes and show off my new sexy move. I started to dance. I do not claim to be the best dancer, matter of fact I’m fairly certain I look like a mix of Napoleon Dynamite and Elaine from Seinfeld. These impressive dance moves were punctuated by me tossing my body onto the ground and proceeding to bounce my hips up and down, up and down… over all of this were the squeals of my NOW former best friend’s laughter which only ended when she fell off of her couch.

I hate her. Okay, no, I don’t. That’s a lie. It was ridiculous. I know this is retrospect. TRUST ME, lesson learned. I failed to consider the usefulness of this new ‘move,’ or how, where, and when I would actually use it, a slight oversight on my part. Can you just imagine me… at a coffee shop? I spy an attractive man ordering an espresso, logically; I toss myself onto the ground and start humping it.

Looking back I realize how futile these attempts at sexiness were. It was silly. However, I can appreciate the laughs I had and the ridiculous moments with friends. One thing I have learned about sexiness is that it isn’t an article of clothing that you put on, I did buy a fabulous pair of black vinyl/plastic pants… those are particularly difficult to get off and on. Nor is it the moves you memorize and perform, or the tossing of your hair in slow motion. Sexiness is none of these things.

Though it could be.

Let me explain, friend. Sexiness is in your attitude, the way your personality, body and mind blend together and are exuded to the world, in the way you carry yourself with confidence. This was why little sporty spice had a standing room only crowd around her. It had nothing to do with what she did or didn’t wear, or even that she was humping the ground. It was in HOW she carried herself.

Sexiness is living your life without apology of who you are, radiating a self-love that makes others love you too. They just can’t help it. And when you have this, it doesn’t matter if you are goofy or nerdy… or cute,like me, you are also damn sexy.


Your Trusted Friend ❤️

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