Sexy, and I Know It – So What?

I wrote this week: “Full disclosure, in a world where women are treated as sex objects, telling me I’m sexy and turn you on isn’t as reassuring of my value to you as one might think.” Today, I wrote this post, including talking about words of affirmation as a love language. Then I read a post by someone who has a distaste for compliments of physical beauty. I also had conversation recently about sexual harassment and compliments. And was reminded of the West Wing episode where Sam complimented Ainsley and a temp got offended on her behalf.

Communication is complicated.

I enjoy being told I’m sexy and attractive. It’s a nice little boost sometimes. I like to know the people I’m attracted to are attracted to me, too. After all, it’s a bit awkward if they’re not. 😉 As long as someone isn’t being creepy, I don’t mind being told I’m hot, sexy, etc. and usually enjoy it.

But it does not sink deep. I do agree with the FL poster on one point, my physical body is not something I have control of, and so compliments of it only go so far. It is not me, not something I have done anything to create, other than not cutting my hair except for not-often-enough trims in the last seven years. I put no more effort into it than that and proper hygiene. So while I appreciate the compliments, it doesn’t mean as much as being appreciated for my mind and heart. The new boy commented recently, that men are often attracted to physical beauty, while women are often more interested what’s inside. (Yes, this is a generalization, and not the truth of everyone.) I think this correlates.

Another point on being called sexy, or being told I turn on the guy I’m with. It makes me blush, not because I don’t believe it, but because my sexuality is being pointed out, highlighted. What I hear is not ‘you are sexy,’ but ‘you are being actively sexy,” thanks to my upbringing where “good girls don’t act sexy.” Which triggers shyness and embarrassment. Which is also a turn on, sometimes.

Reminded of Polgara, and the description of a woman’s mind being a swirly complicated maze.

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