Danielle: Look at you all sexy on your blog post.
Me: Sexy? I don't look sexy.
Danielle: Yes, you do. You look sexy.
Me: I wasn't trying to look sexy. I look contemplative. That's my contemplative face.
Danielle: Lying on a table with a bowl of icing?
Me: That is not my sexy face. Maybe I should take it down.
Danielle: What's wrong with looking sexy?
Me: Nice girls don't look sexy.
But I don't really believe that.
So, I've been thinking a lot about sex lately. Not so much in the "Good lord if I don't get me some I'm gonna die" sense, as much as the "what's a girl to do with her sexuality?" sense. If good, kind men who respect women and love their wives and girlfriends are in the conundrum of how to balance love and lust and monogamy, than good, kind women who respect themselves and men are in a conundrum with what to do with their breasts and legs. The pickle is this: I am a sexual woman. I am a godly woman. I don't enjoy having conversations with men's foreheads instead of their eyes and I also don't like wearing turtlenecks at the beach.
I'm being silly. It's not as simple as clothes. The tricky bit really is: How do we women live out our sexuality in a way that doesn't treat our bodies and the reactions they can inspire as some sort of currency, while also giving ourselves permission to claim our sexuality as a valid part of our identity?
I dunno, kids. I do know that I like sex. Sex is good. I don't like to pretend that it isn't a powerful force in my life, but I also don't enjoy having "other" people (the media racket) dictate to me what my sexuality looks like. But still, I keep asking, what does it look like? What do we do with these breasts and legs and desires? How do we reconcile good girl and sexy girl? Only in the bedroom? Surly not. Please say that it's not.