Thursday, May 24, 2012

you know what's sexy?

There is no deep thought in this post. Now that we're all freed from that burden....

Last night, I responded to a last-minute invitation to join some friends at a bar*. I excitedly jumped at the chance for some girl time.

 I had been working in my yard ALL DAY LONG. Staining the fence, digging up plants, etc. etc. I looked like a mess and only left myself about 5 minutes to be presentable enough to leave my yard. I came in the house and put on some green pants from when I worked in a group home, a black polo-style shirt I got to hide my post-partum belly, and the black sandals I just wore hiking. I never feel like I can quite shake a frumpy mom shadow these days. Whatever. I threw my hair up into two "messes," which accentuated the "not out to look impressive" look in my mind. I'm fine with that. I like to go out like that on purpose sometimes. (I'm not sure it counts as not taking yourself too seriously if you have to think about it this much, but I try, anyway.)

I go to leave and Pat says, "Some guy is going to hit on you looking like that."
"No one's going to hit on me, Pat."
He shrugs in disbelief. I add:
"This is not the bar to go to if you want people to be hitting on each other." It hovers nicely beyond the college scene without going into the old perpetually drunk scene. I tell him the only interactions I have with guys there is annoying my friend's husband, who works there and is often our server. (Maybe he's not annoyed. I don't know. But I think servers must get annoyed with the girl who comes in only for a root beer or a cheap appetizer. Sorry, bar-tending world.) Knowing I'm totally right about the crowd that would be there, I head out the door.

When I return home, I proudly announce that no one hit on me. See? As mom's night out looking as it gets!
Then I remembered and had to admit:  "Well, some dude made a call at me and [my sexy friend] well after he had passed us walking to our cars." Then I remembered another fact that needed to come to bear on the situation. "But, come to think of it, I also got hollered at while I was planting flowers yesterday." (I look SO messy like that and I'm not being humble.) "And I used to get hit on a lot more when I was pregnant. Come to think of it, most of the time when I get hit on, it's at times like that! It's not when I'm dressed up or looking nice. Why is that?" I ask my husband these things because he's a guy. He would know.

(Here I'll include a quickly-assembled collection of photos I'm calling my "If you want to get hit on....". I'm doing this for educational purposes, but also because people like to post pictures of themselves in sexy poses online. Sorry these are uncensored. I didn't know which parts to bleep out.)

Do something really disgusting. There were no males around as I scraped unidentified goo off this bathroom floor, but I'm sure it was safer that way.
Wear your hair up in messes and have a young child with you.

[         TOTALLY CENSORED        ]

Okay, I actually just couldn't find a picture of me pregnant and pushing a stroller.
I didn't know at the time how incredibly hot it was.
Such sexyness is probably too much for a family-friendly blog, anyway.
Wear a t-shirt you got in 8th grade that is totally worn and covered in paint.

Forget makeup. Opt for construction mess.
See? I went home with this guy. :)
We threw around some ideas that would explain this phenomenon. I know I am not the only one who has noticed. Other friends would testify that they get hit on more when mowing their yards or pushing a stroller or whatever. Pat concluded the discussion by saying, "I think the only qualification for a guy to think a woman's sexy is that she is a woman."

Is he right, world? Is he right? What gives?


*It goes without saying that, even though I don't like beer, I think it's SO much cooler to go hang out at a bar with my friends than to go all get our nails done or something. It also goes without saying that we don't get drunk or go there to party hard or anything, so no one's mom needs to worry about us.