A story about sex, confidence, and shoes.
I’m not sure how it all happened but I seem to spend an awful lot of time thinking about what makes a woman over 40 sexy. It’s led me to the topic of confidence and an understanding of how they’re all intertwined. In other words, confidence is sexy.
How’d I figure that out, you’re maybe thinking. In a word, menopause. It ripped my confidence out of me and left me flapping helplessly in the wind. I got to experience what life was like without my usual bright-eyed-and-bushy-tailed-can-do attitude.
It was worse than I could have ever imagined.
It was like getting up one morning and realizing you’re out of milk. You saunter over to corner store and boom, find yourself in the middle of a hold-up.
Gun to your head, a growling voice barks, “Your confidence or you life, lady.”
You scream and lunge for cover. You’re not fast enough. By the time, you get out of there, you’re battered, bruised, and broken. You count your lucky stars though. It’s just your confidence that’s shot to bits.
Or so you think.
It wasn’t long before I realized I’d lost more than confidence. It hit me one morning when I couldn’t even get the old Greek waiter at my usual diner to flirt. I mean, the guy flirts with hamburger patties but suddenly I was invisible.
I knew I was in trouble.
Then I committed the ultimate confidence crusher. I pretended to be someone I wasn’t (a teenage sex kitten, if you can imagine) and got involved with a guy who was infatuated with that person-I-was-not. And then I hated myself for being not-me, but hated him more for liking not-me. (Logic only a woman could understand.)
Then, out of the blue, I got my rude awakening. A friend called me up one day explaining that this “so called boyfriend” of mine had just tried to solicit her for some group sex. And did I know about this?
I looked at the phone as though it had just turned into a rattlesnake. I covered my mouth so I wouldn't scream.
