The wrong type of attention...

...can feel so damned good. Initially.

When I was a hot-to-trot 20-something I once walked into a kitchen where my friend and her husband were standing with a bunch of friends. The guy took one look at me in my olive suede miniskirt with a gold belt slung around my waist and said approvingly, "You go, girl!"

I smiled and hung my head, because even back then my totally self-centered self could only imagine how embarrassed my friend must've felt with her husband boldly flirting with another woman in front of everyone.

You like me! You really like me!
That old scenario ties directly into what Cindy Margolis, the self-proclaimed most downloaded woman on the net, is up to now: After teasing hapless males with her string bikinis and sly smiles, she's finally taking it all off for Playboy.

After playing the role of "girl next door" for years and turning down old Hef each time he called, Cindy Margolis said that when she got the call this year it was finally time, on her 40th birthday. A problematic point because California birth records put Margolis' birth date at Oct. 1, 1965 -- which would make her 41. (That's weird...why shave off one year?)

Anyhoo, Margolis said that when she "got the call from Mr. Hefner...I thought, 'Wow -- at 40, they still want me?' And I thought it's almost an inspiration -- like a 'you go, girl' moment."

So there it is, the root of problem. The fact that men wanting us can make us feel so good...but in such a bad way. A temporal, sleazy kind of way that's not really the type of love and adoration we're seeking to fill us up.

I can relate. I'm 3 years away from the big 4-0 and still smart whenever some guy avoids calling me "ma'am" and gives me the look. Then I fight to remember that though all the heady fantasizing can give a temporary boost to my self-esteem, none of it truly satisfies in the end.

If he's married, I think about Dr. Robin's words that we should be offended (not pleased) when married guys flirt with us. And I never want to forget the hurtful look in his wife's eyes, because I never want to be her...

Thanks for reading! Feel free to bookmark or blogroll me at and drop back in some day to see what I'm up to next. Blessings and love, Paula

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Yakimaniac said…
Not sure I completely understand your meaning but it's probably just me. In any case I think you are very attractive. Wait! Stop! Honey! I didn't know you were there. Stop hitting me! I didn't mean it...

Seriously, perhaps you could make a distinction between admiration and lust. Just a thought. Yak
Tee hee hee. Hey...your humor sounds familiar, "Yakimaniac", and of course I'll publish this since you wrote I was attractive.

He likes me! He really likes me! Wait a minute--that's my point. I shouldn't care who finds me physically attractive, and neither should Cindy Margolis. Because once all her "admirable assets" are gone, what's she going to have left to boost her self-esteem?

That's my point: Women who depend strictly on their physical attributes (and not their intellect, artistic skills or stuff like that) kinda piss me off.

Check for my upcoming blog post called "Shut Up, Ferige!" That's Miss Fergalicious, not the red-headed royal.

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