I got a passion in my pants and I ain’t afraid to show it. I cannot wait for Valentine’s Day! Do not think that just because I am over 40, the mother of 2 exhaustingly rambunctious boys, and living a glam life of carpools and muddy cleats and dog throw up on the entry way carpet that I am not Marilyn Monroe reincarnated. I’m sexy and I know it.
Underneath these sweats from Costco lives a Victoria’s Secret model clawing to break free. The unwashed hair in the tired brown scrunchie strains against wild tresses that lie in wait, deceptively limp and lifeless, so as to not give away the fact that Angelina Jolie is about to come busting out. I’m sexy and I know it.
Don’t be fooled by the family photos that show a woman with a drawn, tired face with dark circles under her eyes, holding an un-manicured hand up to block her image from the camera. It is all a great façade created to distract you from the video vixen that laughs in the face of JLo, Madonna, Beyonce. If you got a really close glimpse of the Supermodel that is mere millimeters below the surface, ready to roll in the sand and surf half-naked for your viewing pleasure, your eyes would melt out of your face. I’m sexy and I know it.
You think I am really overwhelmed in my cardio funk class or my Hip-hop abs video work-out; you are concerned by my torturous moans and groans and sailor-worthy cussing during Pilates; you want to call 911 when you see me doing my slow-mo run around the Booty Loop. My gasping for air and sweat-drenched body is all trickery to conceal my true nature. Confronted by my sheer animal physicality you might just have a heart attack and fall to the floor dead in front of me.
I’m sexy and I know it ( I work out).
So don’t even try to imagine what my Valentine’s Day is going to be like with that married man I’m hanging with, because if you do your head might explode into a million little pieces. Or – you might look at him and see a receding hairline with a touch of gray, a slight build, and few wrinkles around the eyes. What you don’t realize is that underneath that preppy suburban dad disguise is a lethal combination of George Clooney, Bradley Cooper, and Rocky Balboa (sorry, teen crush) who will be romancing me all night long.
What, you don’t see it? Man, that’s sad. Can’t say I’m surprised; it is what is to be expected if you look at him with those mere mortal eyes. When close to that hunk I am overwhelmed by the tsunami of attraction that snaps and sparks and threatens to create an actual electrical current in the air that will fry anything within a hundred mile radius of the two of us.
Sexy, right? Yeah. I know.
A version of this post originally appeared on skirt.com.