OMG, I Get to be a GIRL!

Had lunch with a fellow ex-member today (though, because my name is still on the rolls, I sometimes feel silly calling myself an ex-member), and she was a sheer delight...so much so that I wrote this entry early this morning, and I'm now amending it to include her.

Our conversation covered all sorts of things, but primarily our respective journeys, sex, and freedom...primarily freedom.

Freedom covers many, many things, but the topic of this entry is having the freedom to be a girl.

Specifically where fashion is concerned.

Let's start from under and work our way to outer, shall we?

I've worn garments for a very long time. I can honestly say that there is nothing more fun than waltzing into a Victoria's Secret with a credit card backed by my husband's blessing and picking out two dozen pair of assorted panties. Cotton, lace, boy-short, thong, satin-y, stretchy, easily-hidden, bikini, solid, stripe, polka dot...even cute clearance snowflake panties! And BRAS...bras that won't go over my garments! Bras that will lay against my skin and support my (not much of a) rack. Strapless, halter, lace, push-up, add-a-size, demi, patterned, t-shirt, racerback...dear heaven, the choices!!! And then to put them on for my husband!!!

Scratch that. There's nothing more fun than modeling for your husband all your new underthings. Talk about feeling feminine and sexy!

And then there are clothes. You know, things that before were feminine on other women, and immodest and inappropriate on me. GONE are the camis that extend the length of my top or shield my cleavage from the world. Gone are the below-the-knee skirts and - DEAR GOD! - SHORTS. UGH. It turns out my bust is a curve, there's a waist that differentiates my top from my bottom, and, lo and behold, I have SHOULDERS! And a CLAVICLE! And they're attractive!!!

No, I haven't gone overboard. No, I haven't bought any more hooker shoes - had those already! - and no, I don't have clothes to match those shoes. I own nothing backless, nothing bandeau, and nothing that will show off my brand new panties if I bend over to pick something up. I DO, however, have skirts above my knees...shirts without sleeves...stretchy stuff that hugs my curves without showing off my panty line...tops without straps...and the strapless push-up bras to make them look beautiful.

Because that's key. I get to feel beautiful now without worrying if I'm going to offend someone, or if I'm going to tempt a man to leave his wife when he sees my clavicle bone. I'm not dressing for a club; I'm dressed to feel good about myself. I dress to be pretty...without constraints or concerns. I wear what looks good on me, and I've learned what does.

I feel beautiful. I feel sexy. (Not skanky-sexy...more like "he looked at me and smiled!" sexy.) I feel desirable to my husband, and like he can be proud to walk beside me when we're out-and-about together.

And I love it.

I feel like screaming, "OMG! I get to be a GIRL!"

Seriously, I love no longer being a Mormon. Guilt is gone, self-loathing is gone, fear is gone...and guess what? I'm pretty.

Life is beautiful.