The Hot

Hi Guys,
So, Annette wrote me a message that says that she desires a new blog post.  I know.  It's been a while.
It makes me feel so special to know that Annette desires to hear what's going on in my head, and, since it's a nice day and since I'm super sore from my bike ride yesterday, I'm going to sit on my back porch and write something.

This blog post is about being Hot.

However, before I go off on that controversial subject, I'd like to make the following stream-of-consciousness observations.

1) I just tested the tire pressure on my bike tires and it turns out that I rode 16 miles yesterday on flat tires.  No wonder it was torture.  It makes me realize what it is to be a newbie at a sport.  Like, when I go skiing, I have all of the right gear.  I know what to pack.  I know how to put it  on.  I know how to take care of my equipment.  When it comes to biking, I am an IDIOT.  Clearly.  It took me 15 minutes yesterday to figure out what to wear for my flat-tire bike ride.
2) My goal of riding my bike to work (Brighton to Medford), it not realistic.  Perhaps I should try it on inflated tires.  But all in all, it just seems like a long ride to me.  Also, people are mean to bikers, and I don't want to die.  I had this big plan that riding my bike to work was going to be my new "thing", because my friend Danielle rides her bike to work and we are athletically competitive with each other.  I don't know.  Maybe I'll try it again.
3) My cat loves popsicles.  He likes grape and cherry and also he likes Twizzlers and bleach.  I find this disturbing.

Ok, being Hot.

I was thinking about this recently and would like to reflect upon it.  The reason it came into my head was because I was in a cab with my friend Stasia on our way to her bachelorette dinner, and these sweet young things were walking down the street in their mini skirts and high heels on their way to the bar.  I gazed at their long, tanned legs and said out loud, "I remember when I would dress like that."  There, I said it.  And, in saying it, officially relinquished my 20-something hotness.  Because, the moment you say, "I remember when..." in reference to Hotness, you are not longer Hot.

I read an article once about being Hot.  It postulated that the new thing (along with everything else) that women are bombarded with are messages that they have to be Hot for, like, their whole lives.  Being Hot is different than being pretty or beautiful.  Being Hot is a sexual thing.  It means that people desire you and want to look at you.  My point in this entry is that I believe that there is a finite period of your life when you can be considered truly Hot, and it is uncomfortable for everyone else if people of the wrong age still try to achieve it.  When I see really young girls and older women now attempting to dress in a fashion that would be considered "Hot", it comes across as extremely awkward and inappropriate.  It bothers me to see little girls wearing hot pants.  It bothers me to see young teens wearing shorts so short that you can see the bottom of their butts.  It bothers me to see older women displaying over-tanned cleavage.  Just think about The Real Housewives!  It just doesn't seem right somehow.

The age of True Hot is from, I'd say, age 17 - 27.  It is a 10 year period that should not be wasted.  If you happen to be a Hot girl within this age bracket, please enjoy this time.  Please wear awesome, skin-baring clothing.  Please go out dancing and toss your hair around.  Please strut down the street in the middle of the day and smile at boys and let people honk at you.  There is nothing wrong with being really Hot.  In fact, it's some of the sweetest nectar of life.  Feeling really Hot is just about one of the best feelings in the world.

I think that I can claim that I was Hot from ages 19-27, and therefore am qualified to speak on the subject. What's interesting and somewhat sad about it is that I am "speaking on the subject" because I am no longer within my Hot range.  Sure, I'm still pretty.  I have my Hot moments.  I am NOT writing this to get people to give me compliments.  But, since I was very not Hot in high school, I think I've had enough thoughtful years to understand what it feels like to become hot, to be hot and then to relinquish the Hot.

Hot is not only a way of looking.  It's also a frame of mind.  A truly Hot girl knows that she is Hot and feels empowered by it.  Unfortunately, you don't have to be smart to be Hot, but, smartness does increase your level and intensity of Hotness.  People never expect a Hot girl to also be smart, so it's fun to surprise them. There are different types of Hot.  You can be a Hot Hippie (or Hipster now...I guess).  You can be a Hot Athlete.  You can be a Hot whatever.  The point is, there is that certain something, and if you have it, you have it, and you know it.  The difference between Hot girls and Pretty girls is that Hot girls always know that they are Hot, whereas it is very possible for a sweet Pretty girl to have no idea how appealing she is. To be clear...Hot girls know, and they flaunt it, and this is part of what makes them Hot.

I remember one night telling my mom, "I can't imagine anything in life I love more than getting dressed up and going out dancing."  The reason I loved it so much was because I was Hot.  I loved it because when I got dressed up and went out, people paid attention to me. 

This is the night when I made that comment:.  Look at the look on my face.  Look how pleased I was with myself.  That was the night of my 24th birthday.  10 years ago.  I knew I was Hot.

But, what is somewhat bittersweet about being Hot, is that it fades.  Unlike true beauty, Hotness has an expiration.  A person who is Hot can remain quite pretty and desirable, but will not retain that certain something.  I can speak to this as well, because I recently became friends with some sweet young things and accompanied them out for a night on the town.  What was interesting and slightly sad about this experience was that I was not the center of attention any more.  In fact, I was not even near the top of of the totem pole. My sweet young 20-something friends were the ones garnering the attention.  I kept wondering, "What is it? What has changed?"  I felt sad about it, but not too sad.  In fact, my feet hurt and I kind of felt like going home.  I was tired by 11PM.  I didn't feel like drinking.  I actually didn't really care that I was wearing a black turtleneck.

I think that it is naturally hard for Hot girls to let go of it.  I felt sad upon my own realization when I went out with the sweet young things.  I mean, sure, taken out of context, like in the Whole Foods parking lot when a guy rode his bike by me and said, "Lookin' good baby!", I felt Hot again.  But in context, among currently Hot girls, there is something now missing in me and I've come to accept it.

My mom was Hot.  She tells me this story about wearing these see-through crocheted pants in college and how she loved the attention it brought her.  (I mean...it was the 70s.  I guess crocheted pants were in). When she tells me this story, I really get it.  She's knows I get it too.  She sometimes wistfully looks at me and says things like, "I remember when..." and we both understand what she means.

If you were to ask me to pinpoint what the difference is between being Hot in my 20s and being not Hot now, I could tell you exactly what is going on.  My legs aren't as thin, my skin isn't as glowing and plump.  But mostly, my heart isn't in it any more.  Because part of the thrill of being hot was showing it off and attracting the most boys, and now I don't care as much about attracting the boys.  When I see the sweet young things in their towering heels and short skirts, I actually feel grateful that I don't have to maintain the Hotness any more.  I am almost glad to relinquish the responsibility to them.

So, if you're reading this and you are Hot, I want you to really consider what it means to be so lucky.  Go out and ENJOY it!  In the meantime, I'll just take my out-of-context Whole Foods moments when they come.  And even though I pretend like I'm disgusted when someone yells at me from out of their car, I will secretly smile inside.  There are many more things in life that are so much more important than being Hot, but I won't ever regret the years I spent enjoying every single moment of it to the fullest. 

And now, here's to the next stage in life of being a beautiful, grown-ass woman.