Sexy self medication

Part of me thinks that what I'm about to say is a little anti-feminist. The rest of me doesn't care.

Sometimes, it feels really nice to be sexy. I am currently semi-sick, fighting off what might be a cold, and am not feeling my best. I am fighting it with medicine and rest, but I am also fighting it with sexy! In one of my favorite comic strips, 9 Chickweed Lane, one of the characters is a professor who deals with difficult situations by wearing leopard-print underwear under her suits. When she has to face the board of trustees the secret knowledge of her sexy undies brings her ferocious (leopard-esque) confidence.

I don't own any leopard print undies; actually, I think animal prints are usually tacky. But I am wearing my favorite sexy librarian outfit (oh, yeah, this post also perpetrates librarian stereotypes), which isn't that sexy, but it is nice. And what I have on under is also pleasantly sexy. I did my hair and makeup this morning in nothing but the underthings because it made me feel like a Soviet spy in a movie (the haircut helps).

I know, I probably shouldn't be talking about my underthings on my blog. My point is not exactly the underthings (no pics, clearly, and no descriptions!). My point is that, even if it's probably not the best thing to use to make me feel better, the sexy helps. Whether this is a sign that my self-esteem is too tied to my looks, I don't know. I think it's partially the idea that if you want to feel a certain way, act like you already are feeling that way, like pretending you're awake can help wake you up. I might be sick and gross, but damn it, I'm going to be sexy today, and it's making me feel better.