Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Beauty Is in the Eye of the Beholder

I’m 5’9, I’m tatted, I snort when I laugh, I’m chubby, my feet big, and so is my head… I’m not perfect and I know this. I also know I am not Beyonce. I’m not everyone’s first choice when they see a room full of joints, but I’m cute, and I got all my edges so that says something.

One of my biggest issues coming up was I felt like I wasn’t pretty. Let me rephrase that. I wasn’t attractive. I have a cute face and appealing parts *looks down at the twins*, but I never felt holistically attractive. Like I didn’t walk in a room and men would be like “damn, who’s that?”. Most All of my jawns have been friends of friends, then we got cool… and then we got “cool”. My personality is probably what got me 99.9% of my jawns (I say it like I’ve had a lot but we all know that’s not true… let me cook though lol). I never was someone that a guy just picked up off the street and we went on a date.

However, let me state this… I have 6 types of men that ALWAYS try and talk to me… It never fails…

 Fat Men

 Short Men

 African Men

 Dominican Men

 Ugly Men (though I was told this the default for every female)

 Lesbians

If I want any of the above, I got them for the most part. They never fail to eye me or smile at me... I dont know why but I difgress. Don’t get me wrong… There might be one or two of those categories I like too (Ill let your mind wander on that)… but for the most part… I am not with nothing. I’ve said it before, my ex got me cause he was the first man that made me feel beautiful/sexy at the same damn time *future voice* he wasn’t always scum. I was afraid to leave because I really didn’t think I would find anyone else, especially someone I was attracted too. Then, my first old jawn walks in… meeting pretty much all my “fantasy” requirements (basically, all the stuff that REALLY turned me on about a man, but I never thought I was attractive enough to get). Me and him don’t speak anymore or for right now, life funny that way, but I do have to give him credit. He gave me my confidence back unknowingly. He made me realize that, 1- I don’t have to be physically attractive to be attractive, it’s a complete package and 2- Self-esteem and being comfortable with yourself is one of the most attractive things on a female. Even the baddest joint look like Rosanne Arnold when they don’t know their bad.

It’s not easy though, when you have men tweeting/facebooking/blogging/ drooling about preferences that look NOTHING like you. Its cause a little cringe in your soul when you in the kitchen cooking for a man then check twitter and see him making the heart eye’d emoji to a Brazilian joint with a big butt and long hair and you out here with “Nassatal” and a bob. Society doesn’t make it easier. You see joints out here looking like Barbie dolls on TV and you looking like a stick figure (not me… I already said in this post I’m chubby, but I got to rep for my skinny friends).

How am I supposed to feel when Rick Ross… RICK “MY TITTIES BIGGER THAN YOURS” ROSS… out here rapping about a chick who look like a bag of money, when I’m walking around looking like a sock full of quarters?

Answer: I’m supposed to feel beautiful.

Ladies, please do not let a man’s preference affect your self esteem.

Not everyone is going to think you’re gorgeous, but that fine. You’re still pretty. Beauty is really in the eye of the beholder. And just cause sexy ass Tyrone from down the block doesn’t think you’re gorgeous, doesn’t mean fine Hakeem from around the corner doesn’t. However, you so hung up on the one “rejection” (I use that cause I couldn’t find a better word), you can’t even notice.

Don’t miss looking at your next man cause your hanging your head from the one you never even had.

Now, I look back at my roster, and y’all can’t tell me nothing. I have pulled some great men just not great for me apparently. I don’t feel a way when I see someone who is very attractive and they don’t give me a second look. What is meant to be will be. Forcing chemistry causes explosions, and I’m just healing for the last burns…So I chalk it up as a loss.

Perception is everything. Don’t make someone else’ perception of you change your perception of yourself.

"You done got with us niggas--now you talking about, "You fucked up my self-esteem." Bitch, it's called SELF esteem. It's esteem of your mother-fuckin' SELF, Bitch!" –Katt William

Friday, July 13, 2012

By the way...

"Casual sex usually ends in a casualty"


Be Careful Camel

So when I first started this blog, one of the things I let y’all know about me was that I am a crier. I cried for everything. Like coffee commercials. I was OK with it. I accepted it. People called me a baby but I didn’t care. That was me. However, in the past year and a half… it’s been a drought in my tear ducts. I think I’ve cried a good 6 times in 18 months… that amount would be low for a single month.

I haven’t cried since April. Legitimately.

I think one of my main issues is that I don’t want people confusing my tears. With everything that’s happened in the past year, everyone has been waiting for me to have a breakdown. Waiting for me to crack under pressure. I’ve wanted to cry a million times, but I won’t give people who don’t deserve it even a slight possibility that my tears are for them. I made the decision a while ago that I got to stop giving people pieces of me who don’t give anything back or I’d lose myself completely… My first step was my tears.

Here is the problem. I’m stagnant now. I feel like I floating in limbo. Before I could cry, let me tears take with them my stress… and as the evaporated on my cheeks so did my problems and anxiety, and I would be able to face any issue head on. Ever since I lost my release, I’ve lost my mind. Everyday I wake up wanting more but my mental vision so cloudy I can’t even see the path to begin the journey… wrong or right. You know that feeling you get when you spin around to much with your friends and you get dizzy and fall into each other and laugh and giggle… some people use that to describe love. Now think again to a time you did that completely alone. It wasn’t as fun right? It was semi scary… you were dazed and confused and you just wished everything was back to normal. I use that to describe my life. Maybe I need these tears so I can face my problems that people say I’ve been running from (which I really don’t agree with); maybe I need a new release.

I don’t know how I became this person who has hope for everyone but herself. Who is a hopeless romantic with no hope for romance. The person who loves weddings but realizes the fact she may never be in her own. The person who can support her friend’s endeavors but can’t even motivate to establish her own.

How did I become emotionally cripple?

I’ve seen this happen with some many people around me too. We try to cope, and put on a big girl/boy face that all our energy is drained. We don’t have the strength to do anything else other than keeping up appearances. But we get so focused on the out appearance we don’t realize the chaos inside. It’s like we convinced ourselves we are really OK. Until we get that straw that broke the camels back… then we crumble. Don’t let “trying to keep it together” tear you apart. If you need that time away so you can stop focusing on faking… take it. Get things straight. Real friends will understand, the rest… add them to the getting things straight and kick them straight out your life. At 25+, we don’t have time for nonsense anymore.

And if all else fails, stay away from straws Camel.

Soap Box...

*walks up to soap box with pedestal… puts pedestal to side for later… steps on soap box… clears throat*


After 1.5 years of being single… I give up. Give up what you ask? Did you find a boyfriend? NO! I give up being so laxidasical. I see why black women are so tired and disappointed. We have men who take advantage of any opportunity and it’s annoying. Men are content with being the GAN or boyfriend number 2, while we just trying to be girlfriend number 1. However, are they completely at fault? Oh no no mamita. Our issues with past relationship, or self image, and trying to think like a man and act like a lady have got us caught up and so deep in the gray area life starting to look like one of them old silent films.

I am not a dater. At all. I think it’s so weird to go out with someone randomly with the pressure that they are looking at you to potential go into a romantic situation. Or they think that spending this little bit of cash is going to be worth the moot I might (key word MIGHT) give them later. Then if they go to fast, I feel pressured… suffocated almost. If they go to slow, I feel like they don’t like me and they don’t know how to let me down gently (yea I’m an overthinker). I feel like im being judged… analyzed. I HATE that feeling. I have been taking care of others for so long, having someone pay for the tab feels awkward, so I either pick it up or feel even more awkward for the rest of the night. In the last year and a half, I have probably been on 5 dates (two I don’t even count as dates, but my friends say they are so I am giving it to them). I gave up dating and went into a more… um… casual situation. Chilling with “a friend” where I could just kick off my shoes, relax my feet party on down to the Xscape beat, and be comfortable…

*points to random DJ behind soap box to drop Lil Wayne beat*

Weezy said don’t ever get too comfortable.

I have entered the grayest of areas… Where you past friends but have no intentions of becoming more. I had a sick realization when someone was telling me how good I was… in all aspects *emoji eyes*, and it hit me… if I’m so good, why are you sitting here acting like I’m bottom? Better yet, why am I sitting here acting like I’m bottom? I joke about being bottom all the time with the homegirls, but in all actuality, I’m pretty damn dope. I may need a little work, but I am a positive, upbeat person, who cares too much sometimes, I’m self sufficient for the most part (shout out to Grandma for holding me down though), I make a mean brownie, and my cookies pretty damn good too (that had a double meaning if you didn’t catch that). Why am I giving so much of myself for men who did nothing to deserve it? We all have someone who tricked us and we have been a fool for… but when you keep making the same mistakes over and over, it’s not a mistake shawty, it’s a habit.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me three or more times… I’m just a fool and it’s a shame.

I can’t change the world with this little ole blog but I can give y’all something to think about. At what point are we going to realize our worth AND act like it? The only one devaluing our moot is us because we act like it regular. Giving it out like its NYC Condoms during the African American Day Parade. We have the mentality that he can get it from any girl, so just give him the goods now and over time show him your different through your personality *makes jazz fingers in the air*

No bitch…

Once they get the moot ain’t no one thinking about how sweet you are. They already sampled the product so why they got to really buy it? You know how many men walk around Costco just to eat the free samples, with no intention of buying shit? Pretty much all of them.

When men want a career, they focus, go into hiding, interview, network, go back to school, go hard… when they ready for a woman, they will do the same. We have to accept that sometime men are not ready. We are there to break them off and distract them every once in a while until they need to go back to the task at hand. We thinking we holding them down and just waiting til they get the mind right, then finally be together… They not in jail mamita, they at home. Stop being a conjugal visit. Make them put in the same work for you as they do for their career. If they don’t do it, don’t take it as a blow to your self esteem, see is as a bullet of the uncertainty nonsense dodged and MOVE ON.

So now, I am going to go on the dates, I’m going to be uncomfortable because I need to know that someone is here for the me as the whole package, not to just get the prize inside the cereal box. At the end of the day, I’d rather start off uncomfortable to bring me into a steadier situation then be comfy and confused. If that means fewer suitors on the roster, cool. If that means less sex, fine *side eye*. Quality over quantity... Dont be a hard rock when you really are a gem... blah blah blah yadda yadda yadda. All that good stuff. So yea, like Mark Morrison, Return of the Mack. (Even though I never really was a Mack in the first place, but work with me people… plus I love the song)

Oh, remember that pedestal?

*puts pussy on it*

Thursday, July 12, 2012

One More

Heard this song last Wednesday… then on Love and Hip Hop…

I think its so cute! Had to share.. Enjoy.

Like Mark Morrison

I know i been gone for a bit… but just so you know where my heads at…

Updates soon.