Last week I spoke at a blog conference about what I learned in my first year of blogging. I managed to get through the event without any wardrobe malfunctions or having any food thrown in my general direction; I guess you could say I was kind of amazing.

Afterwards, a handful of attendees were kind enough to come up and slather me with warm and fuzzies (cuz more than a handful is a waste, yo).  It was kinda like a Care Bear stare, but with less fluff. One guy patiently waited his turn, got my undivided attention, and proclaimed, “I just had to tell you that I’ve never really been attracted to a big girl before, but you’re sexy as hell.”

My brain cells screamed, “HUDDLE!” and banded together for an impromptu three second pow wow:

               Are we offended?
               Are we flattered?
               Is hell *really* sexy after all?

At the end of the three seconds, it was a brutal stalemate. So I tabled the debate, said thanks to the well-intended-but-etiquette-impaired-fucktard, and moved on to the next guest. But it got me wondering…

What is it that makes a woman sexy?

And so…
Here is my shamelessly-biased, ungrounded and unprofessional, Results Not Typical list.
Be-freakin’-hold:

1. CRAVE HIM:  There are no golden-arches above my bed, but I’ve had more than my fair share of partners. And if there is anything that my exhausting and selfless sociological study of the flesh has taught me, it’s this: the #1 ingredient in lust dust for a guy, is the knowledge that you crave him and that he has the goods to satisfy said cravings with some toe-curling naked playtime.

According to WebMD’s article, “18 Secrets Guys Wish You Knew” (that I have categorically filed under, “Really? This is a Secret?”): Men like pleasing their partner. Your pleasure is important to your man…Too many women feel uncomfortable talking about what they like and don’t like…he’ll feel good if you feel good.

He gives you a bone with every thrust. Throw him one back.

2.  “Men wake up aroused in the morning. We can’t help it. We just wake up and we want you. And the women are thinking, ‘How can he want me the way I look in the morning?’ It’s because we can’t see you. We have no blood anywhere near our optic nerve.” – Andy Rooney

FORGET YOUR BODY FLAW. I am a big girl. Big. At one point I weighed 294 pounds. An ideal weight, if you’re a panda bear. I’ve got curves in places that men shouldn’t find sexy. I’ve got stretch marks that I can’t blame on pregnancy.  There are certain parts of my body that I can’t reach without risking muscle pulls. But I have never, not ever, let my size get in the way of me getting my groove on. Simple mathematics: if he was attracted to me with my clothes on? There’s 0% chance he’ll be LESS attracted to me once we’re butt/buck naked. Secure, worth-loving, men don’t think about the size of your ass, your thighs, or your stomach when they are living in the realm of the hot and bothered.

Nope.

They just don’t.

For them, the hottest thing a woman can be is aroused, pleasured, and having a orgasmically-delicious time, all thanks to the ego-boosting talents and blessings of their manly men partners.

And later, when he’s having “alone time” with himself? The size of your body parts is equally irrelevant. How you stared up at him when his cock was in your mouth? That’s the shiz right there.

Winner, winner chicken dinner, baby.

3.  BELIEVE IN YOURSELF. I’m Christian. My first husband was agnostic, at best. One day we were loudly discussing our faith, and he basically called me out as a big-eyed dingledork for being a believer. This is what I told Mr. I-Can’t-Consummate-My-Marriage-On-My-Wedding-Night-Because-I-Shot-My-Load-Before-You-Even-Touched-Me: Let’s pretend you’re right. Let’s say there is absolutely no God; it’s all one helluva fairy tale like Cinderella, or Jack and his Jolly Green Giant beanstalk. If at the end of my life, my faith has inspired me to make stronger, better choices, filled with integrity and compassion, what is the big freaktastic deal?

My point is, this premise is EXACTLY why we should be wearing a big ol’ fuzzy grand marshal hat in our personal “Yay Me” parades. What different choices would you make in your day to day life if you woke up one morning and abracadabra, you were suddenly the smartest, sexiest, strongest, most successful, unstoppable hot ass in town? I say, make those choices anyway! Then, if at the end your life, we find out that you’re some putrid oozing pile of worthless goo?

So. What.

If you filled your cup-o-life and/or bed-o-sex with better choices, inspired by empowering confidence, and faith in yourself?

No harm. No foul.

Oscar Wilde once said, “To love oneself is the beginning of a life-long romance.”

I reckon it’s time we get to lovin’. Go team.

Jughugs,
Kirsten