femme fatale: an alluring or seductive woman especially one who causes men to love her to their own distress.  I don’t have an ice pick under my bed like Sharon Stone in the movie, Basic Instinct but I have left a heap of broken hearts in Hamilton’s Steeltown on what my generous husband affectionately calls, “the bone pile.”

Can a femme fatale fit comfortably into the skin of a 40 something suburban housewife?  Absolutely.  I wear faded jeans and spiked heels to church on Sundays.  I flirt with the young male servers at Starbucks on my way home from the grocery store.  My car license plate is a derivative of the words, “Black Widow,” a birthday gift from my husband the first year we were married.  The mystique of the femme fatale is not related to age or marital status.  It’s a state of mind.

Men are attracted and at the same time intimidated by confident, dangerous women.  I’m not afraid to admit that my butt rides a little lower in the saddle these days but I still feel a sense of entitlement to feel sexy and at times, adorn my naughty femme fatale persona.  As women over 40, we need to encourage each other and talk about challenges that are unique to women like us.

So whether you’re a femme fatale or the girl next door, steal a couple of minutes to yourself and read my blog.

mysaggybutt.com – fate of a 40 something femme fatale!

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