Improved
6112 HealthChanged
3785 LivesSaved
3568 Lives0 lives impacted in the last 24 hrs Learn More
I‘m not what you‘d call a “closet crier.” I’m a closet warrior; it’s a battle getting dressed every morning. So, it wasn’t surprising that one Sunday afternoon I found myself in my walk-in closet yelling at my clothes, with my friend, Marie, by my side.
“Explain to me, again, your sexy iceberg theory,“ she said looking confused. Marie is a image consultant. She has the sophisticated style of a Sharon Stone and a hint of hilly billy twang in the odd word, a result of growing up in the South. She had spent 28 years in the modeling industry, both as a model and agency owner, and was doing her best to understand me.
“The sexy icebery theory,“ I said sniveling, “ Says it’s not what you wear that makes you sexy, it’s who you are and how much you like who you are.“
“So why are we here again?“ asked Marie as she looked around at the dissary of clothes, shoes, and belts.
“I need your help testing it,“ I explained arms akimbo. “I want to put together two outfits. A really sexy one and a not so sexy one. Then I’ll compare people‘s reactions.“
Marie rolled her eyes. “Y’ll talking dumb, ya know that? You don’t have to test the truth. Just be yourself.“
I gaped at her. The idea seemed preposterous. I had no idea what it meant to dress like me.
Marie put her hand on my shoulder as if to steady me. “Look,“ she said, “I’ve been around the most beautiful women in the world. Sexy comes from a woman's honesty, intelligence, and attitude, both about herself and how she treats others. It's the depth of her integrity, not the depth of cleavage that counts.“
“If that’s the case,“ I said pouting, “Why do so many of us spend so much time and money trying to dress like someone else’s definition of sexy?“
Marie thought about it. “Girl, haven’t you figured out, comparing yourself is the path to insecurity?“ she said shuffling through a rack of my clothes. “And that’s is exactly when you stop trusting yourself.“ She pulled out a black lace-trimmed Betsey Johnson top with a bold red rose print and inspected the label. “What we really need to be doing is getting rid of things that don’t reflect the real you—like this here thing.“ She held the top in front of my face. “From your Bohemian phase?“
“I love that top,“ I whined.
“It’s great,“ said Marie, “If you’re in your twenties. Same for this,“ she continued holding up a black vinyl jumpsuit with a dozen zippers.
“But Marie,“ I begged, “I think Michael Jackson’s signature is on one of the cuffs.“
Marie threw her head back and roared. “Are you having a mid-life clothes crisis?“ She said smiling. “Because I’m not seeing much that reflects a woman in her forties.“
I dropped my head in shame.
“Pam,“ she said dumping the jumpsuit on the Goodwill pile. “Be the sexy iceberg, that powerful presence that can sink a Titantic without doing a darn thing. “
I crunched my face and looked at her. “That sounds weird,“ I said.
“You get my point.“ She kept sorting through my clothes dropping one item after another on the ever-growing mountain of reject clothes—the tomboy T-shirts with skulls and crossbones, the embroidered jeans, the career suits with padded shoulders, and even a few extra padded Victoria Secret bras.
“You know,“ Marie continued, her back facing me, “I saw a shot of Christie Brinkley during her divorce court appearance. She was wearing a khaki pencil skirt, black belt, and a crisp white form-fitted blouse. Her hair and make up were simply styled. She was in turmoil but her entire essence said class and internal fortitude. And she looked sexy!“ She turned to look at me. “You getting my drift.“
“Yeah,“ I said. “I’m also getting that you solved my problem of what to wear. Nothing.“ I checked out the few remaining pieces she had spared.
“Don‘t worry, we’ll do some shopping,“ laughed Marie. “Love yourself, girl, and the right clothes will follow. Clothes like DKNY and Calvin Kline.“
Trust Marie to make shopping sound like a spiritual calling, I thought to myself. But who could argue with her? Let your clothes reflect your essence and you can’t help but be beautiful.
© 2008 ZANTIUM LLC
What do your clothes say about you? Do they reflect who you truly are or some one else you wish you could be? What’s your personal style? Please, send your thoughts to Seasoned Sex through the ASK section at www.empowher.com/ask.
BIO:
Everyone knows you only talk about sex in secret. Everyone but me that is. I’m Pamela Tames and you can hear more about my take on sex and the older woman at http://seasonsex.com.
To share your story with EmpowHer, go to www.EmpowHer.com/share
Add a Comment1 Comments
Hello Ms.Pam,
I for one always think I happen to be the sexiest, most beautiful woman in the room. Even If I am standing next to some 21 year old, long legged gorgeous vixen. Most of the time I have her beat by at least 3/4 of a mile in the brains department. That is why I know I am hot weather I am in my pj's or a Lil'black dress because I have the biggest brains and not boobs in the room. Confidence and maturity beats a beautiful idiot. Every time! Period! Just remember that next time you are compareing bits and pieces of yourself to another woman. Be confident and you are confident. Btw: Some people might think I am not much to look at in reality, a bit heavy and 33. But to hear me talk you would never know it.
April 9, 2009 - 4:25pmThis Comment