No, seriously, Y'all. I was!
Boys used to fumble all over themselves around me, and I used to pretend to be annoyed by all the attention.
I used to be able to get ready to leave the house in 30 minutes, and carry a cute little purse that matched my pretty shoes.
I used to leave the house and own pretty shoes.
It's becoming more apparent that those days are over. I have been body snatched, and replaced by a chubby, way hairier, cottage cheesy version of my formerly hot self.
My current "look" might actually be the reason stay-at-home moms are believed to have given up. (Sorry, Ladies)
I'm twenty pounds overweight and "frumpy." I've only enough energy to miss being cute; not to actually do anything about it. Sometimes just the thought of blow-drying my hair and putting on real pants exhausts me.
I'm wicked happily married. So happy, it seems, the vanity train has left the station. This realization has alerted me to the fact that I have some work to do. It has become quite clear that much of my esteem was resting on an ass that didn't sag into the back of my legs.
I don't even wear jeans anymore, unless I have to; because it usually involves so much effort. These days, I much prefer to preserve all my sudden sweat outbreaks for awkward, in-person social interactions.
I also re-fuse to invest any amount of money in MOM jeans, because I imagine that purchase the last nail in my give-a-shit coffin.
My husband thinks I'm the sexiest woman on Earth; which is an incredible feeling. I am beyond lucky to have met my soulmate so early in life, but it doesn't change the way I feel about myself. It would be nice to feel sexy for him. I don't - like ever - and I really miss it.
It's not that I miss the unwanted attention from other men, either. I just sometimes miss the opportunity to not want it. Truth be told, I would definitely be scream-hating it all over the Internets if I was getting any, but the fact that I'm not seems a sign I'm on the dark side of sexy now... and I really don't likey.
And I hate myself for it.
I'm sure I'm just in some sort of mid-life crisis mode. I turned 38 this year, and I'm practically dead already. I dyed my hair bright red last month, got a brilliantly brave hair cut, and made an agreement with my 20yo to get my very first tattoo. I'm pretty sure that might be the equivalent of a sports car or something.
When did this happen? It must have been a fairly gradual transformation, because I don't recall any indicators or sign posts.
I don't feel sexy anymore; and I know it's all my fault.