What’s Sexy Anyway?
Sexy is holding your ex’s button downs hostage and wearing them to bed. Sexy is apologizing even when you know you don’t have to. Sexy is randomly finding the earring you thought you lost a few months ago. Sexy is dancing in your underwear in front of the mirror with your best friends. Sexy is buying a bikini in December. Sexy is spending Thanksgiving alone with takeout and the Taylor Swift special. Sexy is the perfect pair of buttery leather riding boots. Sexy is your phone voice. Sexy is a fuck-you smile. Sexy is jamming Spice Girls in the car on the daily. Sexy is topping off a Carmen Electra dvd workout with a tub of Ben and Jerry’s. Sexy is failing miserably at raising an eyebrow. Sexy is “My Cherie Amour” by Stevie Wonder. Sexy is missing him when you told yourself you wouldn’t. Sexy is knowing it couldn’t have lasted forever. Sexy is keeping “Red Red Wine” on your iPod even though the thought of the song makes you cringe. Sexy is wasting the day on a Hulu marathon of a show you didn’t even know existed. Sexy is overcooking your big romantic dinner. Sexy is walking to your car from his front door. Sexy is a post-it note scavenger hunt around the apartment. Sexy is being too lazy to turn the fan on. Sexy is wearing your Pink sweats to watch the Victoria’s Secret fashion show. Sexy is splitting an entire cake while fighting over who had a shittier day. Sexy is your hair, just the way it is. Sexy is not being able to settle on a color for your toes and instead choosing two colors, one for your left foot and one for your right foot. Sexy is running into an ex unexpectedly at the grocery store. Sexy is a doubletake after said run-in. Sexy is catching up with an old friend over a not-so-old friend, Jack Daniels. Sexy is buying a dress for an occasion that doesn’t exist yet. Sexy is toe curling. Sexy is promising never to lie. Sexy is the “Back to Black” album by Amy Winehouse. Sexy is keeping a diary. Sexy is black lace. Sexy is when your bodies fit perfectly together. Sexy is spending the night in his bed not spooning. Sexy is knowing that love is a losing game. Sexy is a nervous laugh on a first date. Sexy is wanting him back even when it’s sad. Sexy is a polaroid picture that somehow stuck around for the last 5 years.
Sexy is all of those times when you take a step back and realize that you’re so completely comfortable, with him, with yourself, with your life, that it doesn’t matter how embarrassed society would be, because you’re perfectly content. That’s sexy to me.