Being sexy (or “bootylicious” as I’d prefer it) is something that everyone significantly wants to embellish in one form of character or another. Sex appeal varies by the individual, and re-defines itself throughout our walks of life. In middle school, us girls would sit indian-style, and along with imminent views of the virgin hair on our legs we’d debate and discuss who the cutest boy of the week was. Things were easier back then; judgement was simply based by who’s smile looked the best after braces or who wore the crispiest Tommy Hilfiger polo at adult supervised gatherings among friends (i.e. “gettys”). Let us reflect.
Fast-forward to college and there probably wont be a lot of need for reflecting as those memories are deeply and awkwardly rooted in our memories. The agony of what came post-puberty; a lotta black spandex and a whole lotta black eyeliner. Baby oil was not used for babies, it was used to oil up those freshly shaved legs to closely resemble those of an exotic dancer’s. Sex appeal was different because it was strictly about sex and not much else. Thankfully, the Freshman-15 did wonders for my posterior so ‘All’s well that ends well’* if you catch my drift.
With sex and Tommy Hilfiger polo’s aside, things are a bit more complicated now. I, for one, cannot consider sex appeal without gauging if my significant other will pay for my burritos every other week, or if he thinks it’s attractive when he sees me cry to mom over the phone because paying for stuff is hard. There may or may not be something out there called “lingerie” but frankly, the Hanes in my drawer don’t like the sound of that.
Several images, as of late, have been, in fact, flooding the interwebs as well as my special little brain for the past couple of weeks. I’d like to revisit these and as I’m schmearing cream cheese on my everything-bagel, let’s put priority on white boy abs.
The Bachelor, seen above with an acute case of emo, got cozy with fresh ‘n’ fluffy towels just as much as he did with substitute teachers and “personal organizers” (I’d like to inquire about this profession). Multiple camera angles showed drama and angst, as millions of single women watched and felt his struggle of uncertainty towards his quest of “true love.” As I was watching this final episode, I couldn’t help but wonder, don’t white guys love tank tops? Where were they when he really… really needed them? It’s come to my attention that ABC’s target audience specializes in extremely sexually frustrated women. Get some ladies, because there’s a lot more where that came from.
Ok, enough. Moving on… Exhibit B:
A huge buzz during Fashion Week, I’m still scratching my head at this. On top of many things this 18 year old needs, first priority is finding her a t-shirt. Although, not to single her out, as an abundance of Marc’s models weren’t wearing much either. Couldn’t he at least let them borrow one of his many slumber party pj’s? Marc y u so sleepy?
Last but not least, Exhibit C:
This is way bigger than shirts.
Amidst the harlot of what we call the “internet,” being an avid lurker becomes difficult when having to traffic through so much of quantity and not much of quality. When I stumbled upon this gem I was vastly relieved (and refreshed!). Effortless and poised, her dress is from her own closet and in her interview she reminds us that the First Lady is as human as anyone else. As a woman (who periodically cries while eating burritos), I consider this a perfect prize of sex appeal.
Forever a tween who luvs Marc,
*Shakespeare (Thanks college)