please hold for sexy

Look, Sir, all I’m trying to say is that it’s hard for a mom to feel Sexy.

It just is.

Sure, it’s nice to tell us we look Sexy. We appreciate it, we do. But to us, Sexy = a lot of things, the last one often being tied to our appearance.

It’s not that we don’t want to feel good – we do. We’d probably even like to enjoy some sex at the end of the day. And trust me, we’d love to feel hot about ourselves when we do.

It’s just that “Sexy” is hard work. It’s exhausting. And for a mom it’s sometimes harder to obtain than an orgasm.

Sure, early twenties were Sexy, but that’s because there weren’t too many responsibilities and life was just starting to feel real. Hangin’ out. Goin’ to class or “work.”

Drinking.

Laughing.

Dreaming.

Teasing.

Sexy.

Mid-late twenties were still kinda Sexy. Getting a “real” job. Buying “real” clothes.

Growing up.

Maturing.

Sexy.

Being pregnant was Sexy…

…in theory.

Extra skin.

Lots of extra material.

Back pain.

Pregnant “sex.”

Right.

As a mom, Sexy becomes this intense memory. We’re pretty sure we were Sexy. And even if we don’t show it, we know we still are.

Somewhere.

But now Sexy is this state that starts in our head. There is no warning. It just happens.

Some kind of thought or event that triggers the emotions and jumps the serotonin. The serotonin spills into our walk and talk and reflection. Suddenly we look hot and can’t remember why we thought our hair was totally 90’s today.

Of course it usually happens in the middle of the day when we’re either at work, or it’s nap time and this whole Sexy episode threatens to drip off before we can “do something” to “celebrate” it.

And then lunch break is over, or the kids start to whine or they’re hungry or bored. And then the commute or bath time which ruins our make-up and frizzes our hair. And then there’s dinner.

All the while we’re fighting our damnedest to hold on to Sexy because we really did feel great about ourselves, and we don’t want to lose it because People. Won’t. Believe it. If. They. Don’t. See. It.

But even with all of that, we make it.

Everything is done.

The day is over.

We still have energy.

And a drive.

Now, with everything it takes to cling to Sexy, what I want to know is why YOU, Sir, you misogynistic, anti-mom, m-f*cker, decided to peddle these things to mothers.

Are you kidding me?

Are you mocking us?

Are you really suggesting we wear a fleece baggie to bed?

Weren’t the creation of sweatpants bad enough?

Are you trying to push us further into celibacy than we probably already are?

And the flap?

How dare you.

I hope your dick falls off.

Sincerely,

One (Still-Fighting-to-Be) Sexy Mama