...oh, you knew this was coming, didn't you? Eventually I had to bring up the differences between a woman's point of view and a man's. Well, here it is. Maybe it should be titled "The Image vs the Person", and after reading this those of you who know me will understand why that title might be more appropriate.

Today's specific focus is the differences between the generalizations each gender has been tagged with in regards to what is sexy. Yup... welcome to the Post-Valentine's Day editorial.

I'm going to use me and the DH as gender stereotypes for this, so bear with me. The male definition of sexy seems to be "the woman that turns EVERY GUY IN THE ROOM on"... where the female definition seems to be "the man that turns ME on (or turns my brain on."

DH planned for us to go out to dinner for Valentine's Day, on Friday night instead of Saturday because we could leave the kids at school for "Parents Night Out". There was one stipulation DH had - he wanted to dress me up. Yup... he got to choose what to wear. After my initial shock and fear wore off, I said yes. Why? Because this is my DH and I trust him. I knew that he wouldn't put me in a demeaning or humiliating position. He knows how I dress, and we've been together for 12 years.

I should have known better. *HE* should have known better.

After dinner, after dressing me up the way he wanted to for Valentine's Day and taking me out, I asked DH what the heck was sexy about the way he dressed me. He said it was the curves, the clothes, me... Me? What about me? Again came the line about the sexy curves. *shakes her head*

It was all in the physical. I told him that he could have gotten better curves from my sports bra instead of this stupid thing I had on that made me feel half-naked.

I've come to find that there are some very sexy things about my husband. Like the way he coddles and takes care of our kids... the way he snuggles me up and makes me feel like I'm such a little thing, and he's not much bigger than I am in height or weight... asking me at 10pm at night if I want hot chocolate and making it exactly the way I like it, even though I shouldn't drink it that late. Not being bothered when I drape myself across his lap while watching television on those rare nights that he sits and watches with me... It's those little considerate things that make him irresistibly attractive to me.

It's all in the mental...psychological...emotional. I suppose some men (and some women) would say "doesn't that just sound like a woman?" in response to that. Well, you could say the same thing about DH... "isn't that just like a man?"

I won't go into detail about the bra that he put me in, but let's just say there were a couple of pieces missing. Important pieces. It's the type of bra you wear to play and take off...not to wear in public. At all.

The shirt was nice - 80% silk, 3/4 sleeves (although I hate those), and it was a beautiful rose color. The only drawback to it was that it was cut so darn low. Anyone who was taller than I could easily get a free peep show from the cut. And I suspect that the waiter and the accordian player at the restaurant we ate at really enjoyed the view. I just wonder if DH got a charge out of that (I suspect so, the more I think about it). Thank goodness it wasn't see through.

Then there was the wrap that went over the shirt... sort of. Why I say sort of is because this wrap certainly didn't serve to cover anything up. It was cashmere, which was lovely and soft like the shirt, but I was pulling and tugging at it to get it to cover me just a little more all night long. I'm not normally self-conscious about my looks, as I outgrew that in high school... but I was right back to that on Friday night. Tugging at my clothes, crossing my arms, slouching forward... anything so that everyone doesn't see my chest which seemed to be too big for the shirt I was wearing.

Honestly, I'm only 32... but those were clothes that belonged on someone at least 10 years younger with half the chest. I explained that to DH... I don't know that he heard me. And come to think of it, I never once heard a compliment... he told me that I looked sexy, but I never once heard a "pretty" or "beautiful" or "lovely"... I wonder what he would have said if our daughters were wearing the same thing... or if they wear the exact same thing in 6 or 7 years when they're teenagers - because honestly, I don't think I'll ever wear either of those pieces again, and they'll probably still be in my closet when the girls are teens.

I wonder if the lack of standard compliments are because I wasn't pretty or beautiful or lovely. *I* certainly didn't feel that way. I was embarassed, self-conscious. I felt cheap. I looked cheap (in my eyes). In all honestly, I felt like a hired escort. It makes me wonder if DH is having his mid-life crisis and instead of running out to buy a new sportscar or find a younger girlfriend on the side, he's trying to make *me* into that young girlfriend by dressing me that way.

I suppose that it's better turning me into that instead of looking elsewhere, but either way it was a big chink in my self-esteem. After dinner we went to A & B's school to pick them up from the 'Parents Night Out' activities they were having. The worst part? I was clutching my jacket closed and realized that I couldn't bend over and help B gather her things together because I knew I would fall out of that top. I was embarrassed at the time, even though no one else saw.

Now, by this time I'm sure you're wondering why I didn't immediately rip off the clothes and inform DH that I would not be his own personal dress-up Barbie doll... I think I was in too much shock. I was too busy wondering why he wanted to dress me up like that to tell him that it wasn't a good thing to be doing.

When I took my jacket off at home, I almost threw it back on again because my girls were in the room. After all, I'm the example that they have to look up to. I should have known better. But I trusted him to not humiliate me. Unfortunately, I don't think he realizes what he did.

Now that I think back on it, the whole thing was humiliating. DH had managed to inspire feelings of humiliation in me without even knowing it. I should have realized that the minute he put the bra on me (yes, he put the bra on me)... and I should never have agreed to letting him dress me up. I'm sure he was happy and got his thrills out of it, but my self-respect is worth more than that. Oh man... I just realized... it wasn't just humiliating - it was a chink in my self-respect too! I *let* him do this to me. I think that actually feels worse than what he actually did.

I wasn't raised a prude, but we covered ourselves up at home. I didn't wear things where I was bustin' out all over (forgive the pun) because 1) the parents didn't approve of such things and 2) the girls that I did know who wore such were either easy, pregnant at 16 & 17, and looked cheap. So yes, I dress more conservatively... but I believe in leaving more to the imagination, rather than letting someone else *know* what's on under there...

We were in the mall yesterday, and I pointed out a few things that I would have worn that I thought really nice, not nearly as revealing as that thing he put me in, but still could be considered sexy. He looked them over and was surprised at what I was pointing at. I told him next time I want say over what I wear. I will go shopping with him...

...I'm never putting him in a position of control over my image ever again.