I will never forget the first time I learned the word sexy. I had to be 7 or 8, and I was playing dress up with my friend Katie at my Meme's house. I was wearing a wedding dress that was several sizes too large for me, but who cared? Certainly not Michael Jackson, whom I was without a doubt going to marry at that point in my life...
The dress was low cut, revealing the majority of my chest. Being so young and underdeveloped, it really didn't matter at the time. My grandmother walked into the den and told me that I looked sexy. I didn't really understand what she was saying, but sexy was very close to sex, so I assumed it was something horribly dirty. I told her that sexy was a dirty word and not to use it again. Her response was, "Sexy isn't a bad word, Shannon. It's something you say when someone looks really good."
The concept of sexy has changed as I have gotten older. I think every girl's goal in high school is to look as sexy as she can get away with before her parents intervene. I'm not sure if it's this way for most overweight girls/women, but for me, sexy wasn't even attainable. I hid behind plaid pajama pants and over sized band t-shirts because I was so unbelievably insecure. The idea of anyone seeing enough of my body to judge my level of sexiness was terrifying. It was never worth it for me to even try...
My early college years brought several changes to my wardrobe and body image. As most young women, I was in pursuit of a decent male counterpart, and the only type of man I would've attracted in plaid pants and Weezer t-shirts would have surely been tatted from limb to limb with painful body piercings in unimaginable locations. Not really the type of man I was looking for...
I was desperate to look sexy but really didn't have a solid grasp of what it meant to BE sexy. I am incredibly observant, so I began modeling my outfits after girls that were getting to most male attention. Obviously, a great deal of male attention means you're sexy... right? Their outfits consisted mostly of low cut tops and high cut shorts. Cleavage was unavoidable for me, so I really didn't have to worry about that. In regards to short shorts, my thighs strongly resembled cottage cheese and created enough friction to start a campfire, so cut off shorts were out of the question.
Heels have never really been my thing. I'm already 5'11, so imagine how beastly I'd look as a 285 pound savage in a pair of 4 inch stilettos. I was under the impression that sexy was never going to happen for a fat girl such as myself. No matter what I wore, men didn't find me attractive. I figured be stuck in the fat funny girl role for the rest of my life, and eventually, I forced myself to accept the idea.
Maybe I'm the last woman in the world to realize this, but recently, I've learned that sexy is not at all about you look. Sexy is all about how you feel. Regardless of the fact that I've dropped 8 pants sizes over the last three years, I struggle everyday to find my sexy.
I was at the gym a lot this week. I knew I'd be out of town during the weekend and I would be more reckless with my eating, so I wanted to do all that I could during the week to prepare. It was the first day of Y-Turbo Kick, and I wouldn't have missed it for the world. Side note, kick boxing is absolutely the best workout. I lost 40+ pounds when I was doing it in college. I was standing in front of the mirror doing a punch, kick combo when I noticed that it wasn't nearly as challenging as it used to be. I wasn't panting like a lioness, and I didn't have to stop every 5 minutes for water. My hair was in a long, raggedy ponytail and a pretty solid ring of sweat was forming around the neck of my t-shirt, but all I could think about was how freaking good I looked doing it. In that moment, punching the air and bouncing back and forth like a Caucasian, female Mike Tyson, I was sexy. Like, incredibly sexy. I can't explain why I felt so amazingly attractive at that point in time, but I was overdosed on confidence.
During my run today, I experienced the same thing. The robot lady in my headphones let me know that I had run 7 miles, which was going to be my stopping point. I decided to go another mile for no real reason at all other than the fact that I could. When I got home and looked in the mirror, my eyes were completely bloodshot and my body was soaked in sweat, but dammit, I looked good. So this I guess this is sexy? Is this what I'm feeling?
I can't decide if I'm bringing sexy back or if I am just being introduced to the real thing, but finally, I have found something that makes me feel sexy. It's knowing that I can do literally anything I work hard enough for. Sexy, to me, is outrunning a man on the treadmill at the gym or being the only woman lifting weights. Sexy has nothing to do with what I'm wearing or the amount of attention I'm getting for it. Let's face it, few people find a soaking wet tank top and athletic shorts on a woman to be all that attractive. No outside forces even factor into my definition. It's all about pleasing myself and knowing that I have worked my tail off for everything I have.
So, what's your definition of sexy?
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