Sexy is . . .

On my day off today, I stopped into Vickie's to redeem a coupon. And, then . . . then I did what some women wish they could do (and could do, but choose not to, for some reason or another), because I could: I sashayed my way around Hanes Mall, swinging my impossibly tiny pink and black Vickie's bag by my side.

Yeah, I got looks - almost every ten feet. And I wasn't trying to look particularly hot today. (There are days when I do; this was not one of them. Heck, I stayed in bed reading until almost noon.) I'd even venture to say that I was looking particularly not hot. Jeans, a rather raggedy gray sweater, my cheap (and muddy) black boots. Not one lick of makeup. I didn't even fix my hair today; just jammed a headband on my head. No beautiful necklace; no stunning earrings. And I can promise that the people on What Not to Wear would have had a field day over the bright yellow "Live Strong" bracelet that so sorely clashed with my muted color palette today.

I'm not even sure I had the attitude during that walk that I've got now - at least at the beginning. By the time I made it to J.C. Penney's, I had it, though.

Yet, that look must have reminded people of something (I'm not sure I want to know what, although I'd bet I can guess pretty darn well). My college roommate would be shocked to know that I did this today; I used to completely, blatantly, rudely ignore anyone who even so much as looked in my direction. Heaven help you if you were brave enough to say anything to me. Jess can vouch for that. Heck, sometimes I still act that way.

But I think what did it was the tiny pink bag (smaller than a bag of potato chips that you'd eat with lunch), which just begs people to wonder, "What fits in that - that fits on her?"

And that: that is what Vickie's sells. Opportunity. The opportunity for me to decide to take the chance to be all that - or not. And it was fun.