When I was 22 (not that long ago unless you are 22) I tried on the most beautiful red dress in the history of the world. It was the kind of dress that would be best described as sin like the dress in the book "The Greengage Summer." When I tried on that dress, it hit every perfect curve and dipped so far in front that I could not wear my bra with it. For that matter, I could not wear underwear with it. I bought that dress immediately, and I brought it home.
I tried to figure out where I would wear it. I went out looking for bras that might fit under it (to no avail). I tried to figure out how I could wear it out of the house before my mother saw me wearing it. I just knew that she would say something like: "You cannot wear that! It is positively garish!" But it wasn't a garish dress, it was sexy, but you know what? I wasn't sexy.
I didn't have the confidence to wear that dress then. Every now and then I would pull out that beautiful silk halter dress and try it on, but I never had the nerve to wear it out. After a while, I gave the dress away.
I look at pictures of me from that time, and frankly, I was smoking hot! I could have worn it. I had perky breasts, kicking curves, and no back fat (seriously, no back fat), but I did not have confidence. I had no where to wear it. I had no one to wear it for.
Unfortunately now I do have back fat. I have back fat, but I also have confidence. My beautiful red dress is gone. I wonder if where ever it is someone is actually wearing it. I hope so. I hope that woman (or man) is wearing the heck out of that dress. I hope that she (or he) feels beautiful and sexy in that dress, but that she (or he) knows that it isn't the dress that is sexy. It is who wears it.