F is for Feeling Sexy

There’s a disconnect in my brain about feeling sexy and being interested in sex. I can feel sexy and still not be interested. I guess, in general, I’m not interested if I don’t feel sexy, but that’s actually not usually an issue.

I was raised by a very self-confident woman. Whenever my dad would tell her that she looked good or looked sexy, her response was always, “I know.” It became a standing joke in the house, but she truly didn’t need outside confirmation to feel good about herself.

Being raised that way, I never really looked for outside confirmation either. Sure, everyone has the occasional bout of doubt and feeling bad about themselves, but weight gain and loss didn’t really change my self image a lot.

And honestly? I tend to tell Snake “I know,” an awful lot too when he tells me that I’m sexy.

Does our D/s feed my sexy feels? Of course. If we get out of sync, it definitely messes with both of us. It’s harder to feel sexy when the thing that is your core identity isn’t being fed.

When things are spot on, I can look across the room and make eye contact for an instant spark. There’s nothing that makes me feel sexier than that look that he gets when he knows exactly, or at least in the general vicinity of, what I’m thinking.

And it doesn’t matter what I’m wearing. Sure, lingerie makes me feel sexy and everyone knows that I wear sexy stuff every day. It’s making an effort for me, just like doing my makeup and hair. There’s an outward advantage for others, but I’m never been one to not care how I look. I’m the one who puts on makeup when I’m sick because I don’t want to “look” worse when I look in the mirror. It’s all part of self-care in my life.

The bottom line? I feel sexy in my skin. I like me and I make choices to make myself happy when I look in the mirror. That’s totally separate from the sexy add-ons from our dynamic.

It’s like the chocolate shake. It’s amazing all on it’s own, but the whipped cream and cherry on top just make it all so much better.