I’m lucky to have some pretty awesome friends. Awesome and talented. Awesome and talented in ways that I am so not.

It took me a year of living and working in my new apartment before I could figure out what I might want it to look like – furniture and decoration wise. That stuff just doesn’t come easy to me.  Massive understatement.

So after a year of staring at blank walls and living with old furniture that didn’t quite fit in the space, I ordered a bunch of stuff that I thought would work in the new place. And then it all came and I had no idea where to put in all.

Which is a long way of me getting to today’s story –  this weekend, after much scheduling and planning, I got some of my awesome friends to come over and decorate my space. They rearranged furniture, hung pictures and MOST IMPORTANTLY – removed stuff that didn’t belong here. You see, the people who lived here before me left a bunch of stuff (shelves, wall mirrors, curtains…) and me being me – I didn’t remove any of it. For over a year. I just couldn’t be bothered. Even though I hated most of it. I just left it all and thought each and every day how much I hated it. But since I couldn’t figure out replacements, I didn’t do anything about it.

Yeah, I’m a little pathological.

Anyway, one of the things they left was this huge mirror in the bedroom. It took up most of a wall. And, honestly, I didn’t think much of. Considering all of the other weird things in the apt.

But then apartment makeover day rolls around and 2 of my friends (each of whom had seen the mirror many times before) tell me the mirror is bad feng shui = bad for my love life.  They’d never mentioned it before because they’d never been focused on it before.

So anyway… I don’t know if I believe in that feng shui stuff. But my love life could use some help. And I didn’t like the mirror anyway.  So it got tossed.

Speaking of mirrors…I’ve been having issues with mine lately. They’ve been mean. Very, very mean. Which, in some ways is weird.  I’ve been feeling well. My new new medicine is working well and everyone I know says I look great. But they mean that in a, “you look like you don’t belong in a hospital” way. Not, “you look sexy” way. I’m exercising lots more than I have in ages (took a lovely long walk this morning) and have been getting back into yoga.

But every morning I would get up and stare into the mirror and think about how bad I looked. Old and fat. Part of that (the fat) is that my appetite is out of control. It’s a side effect of the new new drugs. I’ve been down this road many time before and I just can’t expend the energy to fight the constant urge to eat. And the drugs work, so fuck it. I’m just going to have to try to eat a bit healthier and exercise even more.

And then there’s the fact that I am, actually, old(er). I’m 41. And at 41 it’s harder to keep weight off. My magic metabolism is dying down. And my youthful face is looking less youthful.

So what am I going to do about it? I can spend a lot of time and energy every day hating myself. I’m very good at it.  Or I can do something different. I choose B.

As long as I was removing things from my apartment, I went a step further. I also got rid of my full-length mirror. I didn’t chuck it completely, as sometimes I might need to know how I look. But I hid it in the back of my closet. So now the only mirror in my apartment is in my bathroom. Over the sink.  With really bad lighting.

So I no longer have anyplace in my home to look at myself in judgement. To think how fat, old and ugly I’ve become.  No more mean mirrors. BTW, I’ve read about other women doing similar things, so I’m not being original here. 

Will this little experiment affect my self-esteem? I have no fucking idea. I just started. Here’s what I do know. I’ve never thought of myself as a vain person, and yet I keep looking towards those empty spaces, where the mirrors were. For some kind of negative or positive validation, I guess. Life is weird.

Cosabella Ceylon Camisole and Low Rise Hot Pants on a model - NOT ME

I’m just gonna come out and say it – I’m sexier now than I was 10 years ago.  Or 20 years ago. Hold on tight, there are tangents-a-plenty.

I might have had a better body in my 20s and/or 30s. But back then, I wasn’t nearly as comfortable in my own skin as I am now. Not that I think I’m all that. Believe me, I don’t. Random tangent: I recently went out and bought new jeans for the first time in years.  It was something I didn’t want to do, but had to, because ALL of my jeans were too tight. Even the fat jeans. And then finally it hit me – I’m 40, It’s perfectly OK for me to buy a bigger size.

But aside from my random issues with jeans, I am pretty damn comfortable with my body and how I look. In a way that I couldn’t even imagine being when I was younger.  And that’s really what sexy is about, for me. A state of mind. Another random tangent, to illustrate: I remember a boyfriend I had a long, long time ago who was very fond of sex in the shower.  And back then, I could NEVER get into it because all I could think of was that the bathroom lights were bright and he could see every inch of my nakedness in bad lighting.  Not sexy.  Whereas, now…

Which leads me to this year’s Valentine’s Day contest. As some of you might recall, I did a pretty awesome (post-Valentine-Day’s) contest last year. So I had to top it, right?

This year’s sponsor is the amazing folks at 123underwear.com.

They’re a new online underwear (and loungewear, accessories, swimwear, athletics and I’m sure I’m missing something…) shop for both men and women. And they’re the perfect partners for this contest because a) wearing pretty lingerie makes me feel even more confident and sexy and b) they have fabulous undies for both men and women. So, this year’s winner will be able to pick out their own amazing undies at 123underwear.com (top and bottom for the women, bottom for the guys). ps to this – that picture up there, MY PICK.

Entering the giveaway is easy – leave a comment telling us your favorite love song.  The winner will be selected at random. I don’t have a single favorite, but Nat King Cole’s, ‘Sometimes I’m Happy’ is a song that always makes me smile.

I’ll announce the winner on the 14th.

That title originally read, “When I Started to Feel Sexy” but I didn’t want to give people the wrong idea. This is just a short post about me and getting older. And being cool, better than cool, with getting older.

Yesterday, I retweeted an article from YourTango about why women should look forward to getting older. I was enthusiastic about it.

Shortly afterward I received this reply from @pwcaulfield

I replied that I didn’t know.  And something about loving my 30th birthday, and 35th, too (both true). But then I thought about it some more.

When I was 26, I wasn’t afraid of getting older. Truth is, I wasn’t all that sure I’d get much older (you know, live fast – die young- leave a pretty corpse).

But I do remember a point, sometime in my 30s, when it hit me: I really didn’t care what anyone else was doing. I didn’t care what other people looked like, or weighed, or if they did or didn’t have a boyfriend/husband/kids. That comparing myself against all of the rest of humanity meant that I was always going to come up short. I was always going to be not smart enough, or pretty enough, or funny enough… I could never win.

The day I woke up and looked in the mirror and saw myself for ME was the first time I really felt sexy. The first time I even knew what that actually meant. I couldn’t have been any younger than 33 or 34. Maybe even older. I don’t know what prompted it. I just know that one day I woke up and poof, it happened. I looked in the mirror and saw me.  Just me. Not everything that I wasn’t or wanted to be. I saw who I was/am.

Sure, when I look in the mirror I see the signs of age.  I have a wrinkle, a smile line, that’s setting in by my right eye.  I like it. I think it brings character to my face. I also have some gray hairs (not that anyone else will get to see them, I have a fabulous colorist).  OK, I’m babbling.  My point is, none of the little details matter anymore. I’m cool with it all.

That’s probably not the answer that a 26 year old wants to hear.  That one day, in your 30s, you’ll wake up and realize that you’re fabulous and sexy.  But that’s the best I got.

I’m not a big fan of following the herd when it comes to things to write about.  Yes, I look to other blogs and websites for inspiration.  But if there’s a story that I see lots of other people writing about then it’s pretty unlikely that I’ll jump on the bandwagon.  I figure that by the 3rd or 4th story, there’s nothing new or original for me to contribute so why bother.

So, if anyone’s wondering when I’m going to chime in with my posts about vibrators or brazilian waxes you can stop.  I’m not going to be writing about either.  Except to say I’ve had my fair share of both (in the case of the latter- and still have a nice liitle collection of the former).  I’m not quite sure why everyone feels the need to be writing posts about these things lately.  I guess they’re sexy topics.  Whatever.

I’ve been thinking of some really sex topics to write about…  As always, I’m open to suggestions.