The Real Sexy Getting-Ready Song
What if party prep is an erotic ritual that’s just for you?
“Margot” didn’t know what to wear. It was already time to go to the party.
She pulled a dress out of her closet and tried it on. It made her feel uncomfortable. Fat. Unattractive. She found something else, but didn’t know about that one either. She felt nervous. She felt self-conscious. She felt stressed.
Since I wasn’t at work, I got advicey. I suggested that she wear something comfortable, so she’d feel good, and brightly coloured, so she’d get seen.
We made it out the door and had a nice time.
But what if the party really started the moment Margot switched into party prep mode? Or even before that?
What if she had already tried on her party clothes at some other, unrelated time? That way, when preparing for an evening of pleasure, instead of staring at a closetful of potential threats, she could ask herself, “how do I want to feel tonight?” and choose something that she’d know would help her feel that way.
Because party prep isn’t a time on a clock. It’s a ritual, just for you and you alone. And your energy is your most important party outfit.
Party prep time is a moment out of time. Lavish attention on yourself. Play with “beautiful,” “pretty,” “glam,” “irresistible,” “cute,” “fierce,” “kittenish,” “sexy,” “retro,” or whatever mood feels fabulous to you in that moment. It’s a time of private curiosity and indulgence. A time to admire yourself. A time to appreciate yourself. And a time to reconnect with whatever lights a spark in you, right then.
Aphrodite lives in your bathtub. She also lives in your closet and your cosmetic drawer and your shoe rack. And your body, heart, mind, and soul. When you prepare for an evening of pleasure, whether it’s a party or a dance or dinner or something that happens at home amongst extremely select company, you are taking that time to worship the Aphrodite who lives inside you. Do not piss off the gods!
This is the time for the fancy bath salts and the candles and the sultry music. This is the time to slow down. Shed your work energy as you shed your work clothes. This ablution is a practical ceremony. An invitation to experience yourself anew. Is the water soft and warm? Is it bracing and cool? How does it feel on your skin? How is the washcloth — coarse, or gentle? How does that feel on your skin?
How does it feel to touch your own skin? When was the last time you actually took time to touch your own body, with your own hands, and allowed yourself to feel your own touch? With appreciation? With reverence? Now is the time to find yourself. Caress your own arm, marvelling at its textures, its shape, and at all the wonderful things it’s done for you. Rejoice in your feet, your nose, your elbows, all of your parts. Celebrate what you’ve been through together, and what’s to come, for you and your body. You and your psyche. You and your heart.
Notice what comes up for you, in the separate, private, quiet space of the bath. As you listen to the little splashes of the water, do you notice anticipation rising in you about the evening to come? Do you feel…excited, anxious, hopeful? Are you imagining how you would like to present yourself? Are you wondering whom you might see at the party? Are you contemplating how you might handle different party situations? All of this imagining is part of the party. Anticipation and forethought are all part of the party.
And now for your raiment. What brings you joy? You are adorning yourself. When you dress yourself in the energy of, “this garment brings me joy,” you bring that energy to the party. When you dress yourself in the energy of, “this waistband is too tight, that is not my colour, I never got the stain out of this shirt,” you bring that energy to the party. Wearing what you love is part of being a considerate guest. But that’s for later. Right now, this moment is only about you. What makes you feel good for your own sake.
Start with you, your pleasure, your sensuality, your delight. Then go from there to sharing your pleasure with others, and enjoying how they share their pleasure with you. But if you don’t start with your own playful eroticism, you won’t have much to share with others, and they won’t be able to share theirs with you.
Too often women weaponize party prep time. And the worst of it is that they’re weaponizing it against themselves. Unfortunately, when one person commits an act of violence against their own pleasure, their own sensuality, and their own sense of personal legitimacy, everybody dies a little. Because they bring that energy with them, to the party and to their life beyond the party. For example, in My Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, Rachel Bloom sings her contemporary classic, “The Sexy Getting-Ready Song.” All starts out well. She’s in her bathroom, crooning:
I’m gonna get in touch with my feminine side.
It’s the sexy getting-ready song
The sexy getting-ready song.
I’m primpin’ and pluckin’, I’m brushin’ and rubbin’
The sexy getting-ready song.
Unfortunately everything dives off a cliff after that. Too many women will recognize the litany of micro-tortures Rachel puts herself through. And none of it is about her. None of it is about her desires, her eroticism, her pleasure. And it’s certainly not about her enjoyment of feeling her own body. Rather, the opposite. Forget about “discomfort”: there’s pain. There’s blood. And she’s doing all of this for her notion of what will bring pleasure to someone else! The whole debacle denies her her selfhood, in the name of ultimately appearing a certain way in the hopes that someone else will experience desire. But by focussing the process, and the pain she chooses to include in it, on a made-up idea about someone else’s pleasure, she’s killing her own pleasure, with every pluck, every yank, and every shove. Every moment that she inflicts more suffering and more denial on herself, she’s taking herself and anyone she cares about that much farther away from the possibility of real enjoyment, be it private or shared.
“As long as one person is not free, nobody is free,” a radical activist once told me. And as long as one person is not enjoying their own sensuality, nobody can. So it’s not just good manners to indulge in the voluptuous carnality of your own party prep time.
It’s a political imperative.
So some time this week, go through your party clothes and get rid of whatever makes you feel bad. Keep whatever Marie Kondo would approve of. And this weekend, when it’s party prep time, crank up the Eartha Kitt. Choose lighting that makes you feel good. Throw flowers into your bathtub of steaming essential-oil-infused water. Lay out your favourite lace thong and silk dress. Flirt with yourself, admire yourself, touch yourself. Feel the touch of your lipstick as it slides over the flesh of your lips. Take your time. Feel the softness of your hair as you arrange it in your most Aphrodite of ways. Smile at those adorable shoes. And when you daydream about whomever you might see at the party, allow yourself a little regal smile…lucky them!
That’s the real Sexy Getting-Ready Song.
Jordana del Feld AMFT APCC is a psychotherapist accepting new California-based telehealth clients. Book a free consultation call with her at https://www.jordanadelfeldtherapy.com/
Bloom, R. The sexy getting-ready song. My Crazy Ex-Girlfriend Season 1, The CW. 2015.
