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Not Sexy and I Know It.

Sitting in the evening sun having spent the day with friends and family, I mull over a conversation we girls had. It seems we all agree that whilst getting older has brought challenges; commonly juggling teenage behaviours, and worrying about older parents, it has mostly brought us all an ability to accept ourselves, and even, dare I say it - like who we have become.


Photo Courtesy of Shuttlecock

It's true - I, and many of my friends, are becoming proud of our achievements, no longer embarrassed by our mistakes and quietly confident of our futures.


But whilst many things are good, getting older has brought me a personal struggle that I didn't divulge - I no longer feel sexy.


Let me explain - I am not saying that I don't feel attractive. Whilst I know my physique would welcome a little body conditioning - I've updated my style, I look after my skin, visit the hairdresser regularly, all that malarkey - and overall - I feel good.


Neither am I talking about love, or even making love. Feeling #Sexy is different to feeling loving.


Sexy is desire, a heady urgent need to immediately touch another human being and be touched.


How I'd love to feel that irresistible pull towards another like I used to when I was younger. To lose control for the sake of passion. It terrifies me that I may never feel like that again. What if 'sexy' belongs to the youth?


I wonder if my cultivated non-erotic habits could be to blame for my abating sexuality.


These days my daily routine starts with at least one long hot dachshund sashaying under my duvet and thrusting a wet nose into my face announcing it's time to get up. In itself, that's not too bad. She's very cute, very loving and doesn't wrinkle her nose at any morning breath. But this routine has caused me to wear pyjamas in bed - something I never used to do. Could this be my first problem?


According to The American Academy of Sleep Medicine, those of us who sleep naked tend to have better relationships with our significant others. The Academy deems naked sleeping to help improve intimacy between you and your partner, help you both to feel sexier, and give you a body confidence boost.


That may be - but am I alone in guessing that the researchers at The American Academy of Sleep Medicine aren't sleeping with (albeit very lovely) rotund, flatulent middle-aged males who swing down the hall to the toilet a couple of times during the course of an evening's slumber?


My next identified non-erotic habit of the day is one that both my husband and I are equally guilty of - checking our phones. Where once we greeted each other upon waking, we now greet the rest of the world. Instead of checking on each other, we check emails, texts, notifications and scroll the social media sites.


Jay Rai, an Empowerment Psychologist specialising in the neuroscience of mental health, explains how by immediately diving into the online world first thing, my husband and I are forcing our brains to skip important Theta and Alpha wave stages - the places when sexual pleasure and fulfilment is most possible. By going on our phones, we go straight from sleep to being wide awake (also known as the Beta state).


Photo Courtesy of Shuttlecock

That's the science bit - and I don't doubt its validity. But as I explore my morning routine, I'm realising that actually my problem is much shallower than science and body states.


I know that when I look at my husband first thing in the morning and see him on his phone (he wakes earlier than I), childishly, I feel invisible and not in any way - desired.


And it's as simple as that - I am undervaluing myself. I am relying upon other people to validate my sexual worth.


My problem isn't the dog, or the pyjamas, or even the phone. Dogs can be taken off the bed, pyjamas can be stripped, and phones can be ignored. My problem is me.


I said earlier that I still feel attractive - and I do. But I guess that's when I'm dressed, and I dress to hide the parts of my body that I'm less fond of. The truth is all of us have parts of our body we're not keen on. Even the most self-confident among us - particularly as we age and undergo bodily change. But that shouldn't stop us feeling sexy.


I need to improve my relationship with my changing body. I don't have to love all of it, but I do need to remind myself of the diversity of beauty and stop thinking that my body has to look and feel as it did when I was in my twenties and thirties in order to be sexy. My older body and I, need to reconnect. How should I do this?


I often used to wander the house sans clothes. When I was young and lived alone, I would spend hours in my birthday suit, lounging around, a bit of cleaning, ironing. One of my favourite things to do after a long day at work was to close the curtains, crank up the heating, pour a glass of wine and get naked.


According to the study: Naked and Unashamed, this was good for me. The study found that spending more time naked can increase our body image, self-esteem and life satisfaction.


But whilst it made me feel good, getting naked wasn't consciously about vanity. I wasn't bouncing around my home thinking how beautiful I was. I still wanted a flatter stomach, firmer breasts, slimmer waist. But I saw my younger body as 'normal' (even the flaws) and being naked as 'comfortable'.


The nudity liberated me from the stresses of the world outside my (curtained) window, it empowered me both spiritually and physically. It made 'me' about just me - not my clothes, or my style, or what handbag I had. The 'real me' was imperfect, a little lumpy, a little scarred, but relaxed, feeling kind and in a happy place.


And that was sexy.


I didn't deliberately stop getting naked - children came along, the house got busy, I got busy. Showers replaced long luxurious baths. Dog walks replaced lie ins. And in time I just got out of the habit. But from now on, I shall once again be spending daily bonding time with my naked self.


I may just realise how sexy I can be - without any validation from others.












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