Okay, where was I? Oh yes, my horrible lack of sultry powers. See, I was never a girly-girl. I never watched Dirty Dancing, or Sleepless in Seattle. I hated dresses and makeup, and you would never EVER catch me swooning over boys.
At the time I felt like a super cool tomboy just like all my favourite children's book characters... but in all the books I read, they never mention that when tomboys grow up they end up awkward mannish ladies.
Any attempt at sexy dancing ends up sad and embarrassing. Witness the lovingly borrowed Hyperbole and a Half comic below:
It ends badly. Every time.
Me trying to put on makeup is like a toddler destroying mummy's cosmetics...Let's all just be happy I no longer eat the lipstick...delicious.
When I attempt to entice my husband into noticing what a sultry lay-dee I am, it's by singing the stripper song with loud (somewhat) atonal "da da da's"...I may also be dancing with one of the cats.
This just the way I am...and I'm learning to live with it. My husband doesn't mind, and if he does...hey buddy, you bought it? You got it! And if he wants someone to blame, he's going to have to take it up with George, Ronja, and Pippi...and probably Busy.
I guess What I'm saying is I better learn to deal with it, because in my core, in my heart of hearts...I am awkward and not very sexy...but I dance a mean tango with the cats.
*I know that cat.