So it was frickin’ freezing this morning when I went to run the dog. Literally. It was 30 degrees.
So I piled on the thermals and the earwarmers and the legwarmers and the gloves and I pulled a windproof skirt over my fleecy yoga pants, plus a neck gaiter, and I pulled a neon yellow cycling shirt over all that (a color a former boyfriend once called “don’t-hit-my-daughter yellow,” because my dad bought it for me).
Just imagine that for a second. Fleecy pants with legwarmers and knee-length windproof skirt, black thumbhole thermal shirt, black gloves, gray earwarmers, black floral neck gaiter, and a fluorescent yellow long-sleeve fleece-lined mock turtleneck. And white-and-pink minimal running shoes. On a body that has spent 34 years loving cheese and chocolate, as well as dancing and rock climbing.
Now imagine that outfit stepping out into the dark and cold of 6:30am in late October in New England, onto the frozen wooden front steps… and INSTANTLY sliding ass-first down the stairs, to bump skull against stair.
I just lay there on my ass for a minute, in that dark and cold.
I lay there sprawled and checking in with all my various body parts (none of which were injured), while the dog waited for me at the far end of his leash, and I thought, “This is what sexy looks like.”
See, I’m a REALLY good dog mom, to pile on all those clothes at that time of day, to run with 65 pounds of shedding, slobbering attention-hog. It makes him happy. And making the dog happy is part of how the romantic euphemism can tell I’m a nice person, as sexy on the inside as I am on the outside. It’s the emotional, personality equivalent of pneumatic tits and a bouncy ass.
And so I ran with the dog, just a couple miles, and I picked up his poop and ran him home and fed him breakfast. Then he went back to bed and I went to work. And this right now, me sitting at my desk, having spent the day talking with students, this is what sexy looks like. Sexy smells a little of coffee and local, heritage apples.
And later tonight – SO late, not til 8:30pm – when I get home at last and the euphemism is waiting for me on the couch, with that shedding, slobbering dog asleep at his side, that’s what sexy looks like too. It looks like white dog hair on an army surplus jacket, and like root vegetable curry warming in a crock pot. And also like 6 feet of brilliant, funny, tolerant, patient, generous, sexytime boy, let’s not forget that.