Keep on doin' what you're doin'. It's workin'! It's workin'!

Delighted Husband went to our first Christmas shindig of the season. A fancy affair. And a rare occasion to see Delighted Husband in a suit and tie. Hubba, hubba! Unfair how hot that man can look with such minimal effort.

The evening turned out well, thanks solely to the prayers of my girlfriends. I was not feeling very sensuous yesterday. Not all all. I wanted to go hide in my cave of sinful self-protection and just camp there. Bring an inflatable mattress and stay a while. That's what I wanted to do. Mostly. But a part of me knew what I was doing. Knew my sulky thoughts would only achieve me shooting myself in the foot. So I asked them to pray. Y'all know who you are. ;)
And it worked.
One dear girlfriend sent me this video.
And it was like a light went off inside me. "Feel the rain on your skin. No one else can feel it for you." Y'all it was clear as day. I had this opportunity to shine and enjoy myself doing it. Or I could ruin the whole thing, rob myself of the joy just to pull some childish selfprotecting stunt. I listened to Miss Natasha sing and began to dance in my kitchen. I picked up the phone for the salon and made an appointment. I began the preflight checklist of getting Mega Dolled Up.

Another girlfriend sent me a note that said, "I would never think any less of you! Even the hottest wifey has days where she feels like something other then a sex kitten!
Will pray for you...done deal.
Now, you know your dh loves his hottie wife.
Start this day doing something positive...something you absolutely love. Then think sex...lol. How exciting to have a fun dress up party to go to. Will your hubby be wearing a tux or simply black tie ordeal?
Knock 'em dead, SW"

I was an hour late getting to the salon. An hour late. The Beloved Children pulled a stunt that I could not ignore so I had to stay home and work through it with them. Which drained me emotionally and physically. Anger kills arousal as I've told y'all already. And I was both sad and angry at the choices they had made. I finally got the kids squared away and in a positive groove with the babysitter and I left for the salon. I listened to Unwritten on my mp3 player all the way to the salon. The salon wasn't too busy THANK GOD so they could still work me in even though I was an hour late.

The more the dear salon ladies worked on me, the prettier I looked and the better I felt. I don't know if it's the sense of feeling gorgeous after being waxed and exfoliated and painted and filed....or if it's the nurturing emotion of feeling cared for by my self and the dear salon ladies. Probably both.

So when I got home I still had to do my hair since there was no time for a hair appointment. I was rushing to wash and dry my hair while Delighted Husband stood there looking all gorgeous and antsy to go. I felt like I was in a fire drill or some game show. Having to hurry that much does NOT feel sexy! I felt SO put on the spot. I managed to whip my hair into shape in record time and we scoot out the door. I almost forget my shoes and jewelry.

We finally get out to the car. I haven't even gotten around to makeup. I try to put it on in the car. Delighted Husband swerves to avoid an accident and the makeup bag on my lap slides off my lap and spills onto the floor, lipsticks and stuff everywhere. Delighted Husband pulls over and we grope blindly in the dark trying to identify tiny vials and tubes of makeup. We think we finally got it all, so he takes off again. We are an hour late for his corporate shindig which is bad form and has DH nervous.

We arrive and are greeted warmly by DH's employees and co-workers. They have saved us a seat. We enjoy the meal-they are always so good-and enjoy the conversation. I must have looked really beautiful because I kept getting dirty looks from some of the ladies and smiles from most of the men. Funny thing about cocktail dresses. You show some festive Christmas cleavage and some women tell you look great and some women look at you like they want you to drop dead. Of course DH looked at me like I was a new Ferrari. I began to relax and enjoy myself, enjoy the conversations. By this point I am SO glad I chose to not stay in Camp Sinful Self Protection. And Miss Natasha would be proud because in my own way, I am "feeling the rain on my skin because no one else can feel it for me". I turn flirting with my husband into an Olympic sport. I don't say much, but he can just FEEL me wanting him and loving him and shining my light on him. I'm feeling my glory and directing it all towards my husband.

As we approach the bar, an elderly bartender gives me the highest praise I've ever gotten from a man I'm not married to. He says, "Miss girl, keep on doin' what ya doin'. It's workin! It's workin!"

We blush all the way to the car.