naked: plaid pants make me sexy, no matter what he thinks

My boyfriend E and I have very different tastes in clothes–for me, I mean. He likes to see me in tailored stuff, buttoned up to the neck and down to the floor. He basically thinks that I look sexiest when I look like a virgin librarian nun. Me, I like…well, everything. It feels like now that I am in misses sizes, there is a dizzying array of styles and clothing choices and options and I would say that I’m afraid to pin myself down to any one look, except that I don’t think I even have any idea how to create something as cohesive as a “look.” I just like clothes, and pretty things, is pretty much what it boils down to, and my taste is eclectic. Which is a very simple way of putting it.

I have gotten to the point where I do not care that my arms are not perfect and firm and my stomach is not flat. I am still working on the same laissez-faire attitude about my knees and my thighs, but generally, I am doing really well with accepting this body I’ve ended up with, in general, and I am having fun dressing it up. I wear fitted clothes; I wear tight clothes. I wear sleeveless blouses and skirts that hit above my knees. I wear the clothes that E thinks look sexy on me, because I like to look sexy for him–it makes me feel gorgeous. I like to hear that he thinks I am gorgeous.

But I wear stuff he hates, too. And I wear it because I love how it
makes me feel, I love choosing an outfit that I think is cool, an item
of clothing that I think is pretty, and flattering, a style that I feel
damn fine rocking out in, no matter what he thinks. And that was a
process. When he wasn’t crazy about my outfit, it sort of sent me for a
loop–I look bad, I don’t know how to dress, how will I ever learn how
to dress this body? He wasn’t criticizing me, at all, he wasn’t trying
to make me feel bad about my body–I solicited his opinion, and one of
the very great things about him is that he is always honest with me.
The problem was all entirely me, taking his opinion about a shirt and
its fit and extrapolating out into a freakout, a dip in my self-esteem
and body image, a feeling of failure that wasn’t fair to either of us.

I wish I had a recipe for you–do this, and you can feel confident in
wearing what makes you happy to wear, no matter what anyone thinks of
you. But I think it was just as simple as saying I am going to wear
what makes me happy, what I like, what I enjoy and think is totally
awesome. And it is amazing, how true it is–how you dress is how you

I had been craving a pair of plaid skinny jeans for the longest,
visiting them online every few days. Totally aware that if I said E,
what do you think? He would say “I hate them.” And after dithering for
awhile, I bought them anyway, and yesterday they arrived and I pulled
them on, and I love them. They are tight, and they are plaid. They say
“Hello! Here are my plaid thighs for your enjoyment!” They are a little
outrageous, a little ridiculous, and they’re wonderful. They make me
feel wildly, insanely sexy. They’re comfy, too. I’m going to wear them
with short boots and a tight T-shirt. I’m going to wear them with a
blousy sweater and shiny flats. I am going to wear the hell out of
them, and feel gorgeous because they feel like they’re me.

E thinks I am sexiest when I am confident, when I am sure in my self
and my body and how I look and how I feel. Even if he doesn’t like the
plaid pants, per se, that’s okay. I know he likes what they do for me,
my confidence, and my ass.

3 Replies to “naked: plaid pants make me sexy, no matter what he thinks”

  1. So, when do we get to see a picture?
    I have a pair of green old-man style plaid pants. I named them “Green Rodney,” because they look like something Rodney Dangerfield would have worn. And Rodney, for the record, is my fashion muse.
    Green Rodney is definitely an out-there look. But I love them. And the only time I have ever been picked up on MUNI (San Francisco’s crap version of the subway), I was wearing them.
    So, rock on, sister! And take pics.

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