Friends tell me I’m somewhat of a mirror. I have the ability to show people what they couldn’t otherwise see in themselves. It’s a burdensome gift, reserved for those who surrender the fantasy and the newness of “getting to know” someone. I tend to know all I need to know about a person within the first few moments of interaction. So, the insecurities or intentions that a person has never sneak up on me in a relationship.
The perks: I have a small circle of sincere people around me, people who uplift and better me. I know that those I love truly love me too.
The pain: Most people comfortably lie to my face. Insecure people pretend to be confident. Lonely people pretend to be busy and socially fulfilled. AND women…(Sigh)...pretend to love themselves.
I meet new people every day. Every introduction is the same. Names are exchanged and accompanied by a moist handshake or an awkward, ill-timed hug. (I hate introductions). No one really knows what to say or how long to linger. It’s just a social mess, especially among women. Women don’t know whether to be warm or weary, kind or caddy. It’s quite sad to watch. Lately, I find myself saddened amidst most introductions because when I make eye contact with women…I see inner-disgust and self-hatred.
Sure, on the surface, there is a gorgeous and fashionable lioness approaching me with a huge smile and a big designer bag neatly sashaying as she walks. I can hear men humming “Miss Independent” as a theme song when modern divas move through a crowd, seemingly untouchable. (It’s just too bad confidence isn’t sold at a Chanel counter).
Let’s be real about a few things…
1) Eye contact is rare for a reason in modern society. Why? The eyes never lie and that’s why people avoid each other and try to fall in love via text messaging. I make a point of zooming in and scanning the soul when I’m introduced to someone.
2) The same lips that provide me with a rap sheet of accomplishments, degrees, to-dos, and desires…belong to women who are silently yearning for some form of affirmation or completion.
I HATE MYSELF is the new fragrance for the females in my generation, spritzed on every time we lay with men who don’t love us…or gossip about women we ‘don’t like’ because of minuscule differences or disagreements…or discourage the dreams of others due to our own failures.
It’s ugly. But the truth isn’t pretty. It’s ironic that most women literally hate what they see in the mirror. Mirrors can’t lie. No matter how much makeup is applied or how many designer rags adorn your body, self-hatred will seep thru and own you. Unless you do what victorious women do…
Love what’s beautiful about you and learn to adore the blemishes too. Everything about you is essential. Every chapter of your story is vital. Someone will benefit from the testimony behind your bruises and scars one day. But first you have to face the mirror, stop pretending you have it all together…and heal.
I’m just being real.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Love Your Man Right…Or I Will. (Part I)
I don’t mean any harm. I promise. My intentions are pure. But…I had to insult you in order to get your attention. Because there is an epidemic in our community and I have the components that will lead to the cure. That’s right. I’m bold and...slightly arrogant, because I am convinced that I know why people cannot stay together. I know why the divorce rates are rising and marriage rates are diving rapidly. I can’t give all the components away at once. So consider this to be an introduction to an awesome awakening.
Today, I’m going to give you a little sample of the reality that I’m being exposed to constantly. Now before I begin, everyone who knows me knows that I celebrate women all day-every day. Consider that statement to be my disclaimer. Because…for the next few lines…I’ll be going in (meaning I will be lecturing the population I love the most).
TODAY’S POINT: Too many women have so much pride…and no purpose.
I’m reading Steve Harvey’s second book right now. And while he makes valid, thoughtful statements, he’s protecting our feminine feelings way too much. I’m not here to coax you in to being a phenomenal woman. I’m here to drop a bomb on your prideful, pretty tail. Most the women I know are in denial about a little bit of everything. We are all so convinced that God created us without any flaws. We don’t want to amend our long list of requirements. We don’t want to admit when we are wrong. We want men to be “manly” but we don’t want to surrender any of the control that we’ve held on to desperately for our entire lives.
We are marching to the same tired beat and humming ‘I don’t need a man…I don’t need a man’. It’s pathetic. Because, if you spend enough time saying that you don’t need a man and reminding the man in your life that you’d be just fine without him…he will start catering to a woman who makes him feel valuable and irreplaceable. What purpose is your pride serving? Really? Who is it benefitting? Certainly not you. Because you spend your Saturday nights with your sister and her husband, baking cookies and watching Lifetime.
You want everyone to know how strong you are. You want everyone to call you Miss Independent. But, late at night, you pray that God will send you the one who’ll never leave or abandon you.
The problem is: the pride cloak. You wear it all day and then take it off when no one is watching. At night, the tears fall. At night, the slow jams play…and you fantasize about the day when Prince Charming will sweep you off your feet.
Reality Check: Prince Charming can’t even see you. Your “pride cloak” that you think protects you…actually hinders you and dims your feminine glow. You think you look independent. The rest of us think you look bitter and resentful. You want love? Do what the mistresses who are catering to miserably married men do, be vulnerable and be available. If you can’t do that for the man you want…trust me…someone else will.
Today, I’m going to give you a little sample of the reality that I’m being exposed to constantly. Now before I begin, everyone who knows me knows that I celebrate women all day-every day. Consider that statement to be my disclaimer. Because…for the next few lines…I’ll be going in (meaning I will be lecturing the population I love the most).
TODAY’S POINT: Too many women have so much pride…and no purpose.
I’m reading Steve Harvey’s second book right now. And while he makes valid, thoughtful statements, he’s protecting our feminine feelings way too much. I’m not here to coax you in to being a phenomenal woman. I’m here to drop a bomb on your prideful, pretty tail. Most the women I know are in denial about a little bit of everything. We are all so convinced that God created us without any flaws. We don’t want to amend our long list of requirements. We don’t want to admit when we are wrong. We want men to be “manly” but we don’t want to surrender any of the control that we’ve held on to desperately for our entire lives.
We are marching to the same tired beat and humming ‘I don’t need a man…I don’t need a man’. It’s pathetic. Because, if you spend enough time saying that you don’t need a man and reminding the man in your life that you’d be just fine without him…he will start catering to a woman who makes him feel valuable and irreplaceable. What purpose is your pride serving? Really? Who is it benefitting? Certainly not you. Because you spend your Saturday nights with your sister and her husband, baking cookies and watching Lifetime.
You want everyone to know how strong you are. You want everyone to call you Miss Independent. But, late at night, you pray that God will send you the one who’ll never leave or abandon you.
The problem is: the pride cloak. You wear it all day and then take it off when no one is watching. At night, the tears fall. At night, the slow jams play…and you fantasize about the day when Prince Charming will sweep you off your feet.
Reality Check: Prince Charming can’t even see you. Your “pride cloak” that you think protects you…actually hinders you and dims your feminine glow. You think you look independent. The rest of us think you look bitter and resentful. You want love? Do what the mistresses who are catering to miserably married men do, be vulnerable and be available. If you can’t do that for the man you want…trust me…someone else will.
Monday, February 14, 2011
THE BROOM LIST!
Things I'd Like to Do, Before I Say "I Do"
From an early age, women are encouraged to focus on family, marriage, and children. Once we reach a certain age, we’re all desperately trying to avoid being old maids who spend Valentine’s Day with “friends” talking about how insignificant the day is, when (deep down) we’re yearning for Cupid to ransack us with an arsenal of arrows. I have to keep it so real. This is the one day of the year when my community’s mail man (who is actually a 40-year old white woman) starts looking slightly debonair…and I’m tempted to ask if he (I mean-she) has plans tonight.
I don’t want to create a dramatic sob story, because I haven’t been single on Valentine ’s Day in 10 years. Every year, I’ve had someone who took better care of me than I did of them…trying to woo me and convince me that there was no one who could love me better. Honestly, I have always been numb to the fuss and the frantic undertone of the day. I found it to be superfluous and exhausting. This year, is the first, that I will spend spoiling those in my life who have always been good to me (my family). Tonight, I’ll surprise my mom with flowers and my brother/dad with cards and candy.
I’ve had a lot of time (during the past few months of single living) to think about what is important. I realize that, instead of obsessing over what I don’t have, I have to celebrate what I have already and what I hope to have once love does bum rush me. I mentioned in a recent post, that I have never been in love. Though that may offend some, it’s fine time that I decide to be honest and open. I cannot give my love to anyone until I am ready and willing to share all of myself. There is so much in my life that has been left undone because of unhealthy relationships. There are so many goals that have been abandoned or delayed because I’ve wanted to cater to someone else’s needs instead of acknowledging my own.
I’m never going to do that again. I have a short list of things that I intent to accomplish before I jump the broom…and I’d like to share them with you. However, there is a quick disclaimer: if love shows up before I’ve accomplished everything on my list…I will welcome it with open and grateful arms. I will then rely on my partner to encourage me to continue pursuing my dreams and completing each challenge that I start.
MY BROOM LIST (a list of things i'd like to do before i say "i do")
Finish writing my first book
Refresh my wardrobe/Prepare for Life after “25”
Take a road trip with my mom
Have a huge birthday dinner at my parents house with everyone that I love
Get certified in Beginners Yoga and/or Beginners Zumba
Learn how to cook (at least) five new dishes
Triple the balance in my savings account
Buy my first property
From an early age, women are encouraged to focus on family, marriage, and children. Once we reach a certain age, we’re all desperately trying to avoid being old maids who spend Valentine’s Day with “friends” talking about how insignificant the day is, when (deep down) we’re yearning for Cupid to ransack us with an arsenal of arrows. I have to keep it so real. This is the one day of the year when my community’s mail man (who is actually a 40-year old white woman) starts looking slightly debonair…and I’m tempted to ask if he (I mean-she) has plans tonight.
I don’t want to create a dramatic sob story, because I haven’t been single on Valentine ’s Day in 10 years. Every year, I’ve had someone who took better care of me than I did of them…trying to woo me and convince me that there was no one who could love me better. Honestly, I have always been numb to the fuss and the frantic undertone of the day. I found it to be superfluous and exhausting. This year, is the first, that I will spend spoiling those in my life who have always been good to me (my family). Tonight, I’ll surprise my mom with flowers and my brother/dad with cards and candy.
I’ve had a lot of time (during the past few months of single living) to think about what is important. I realize that, instead of obsessing over what I don’t have, I have to celebrate what I have already and what I hope to have once love does bum rush me. I mentioned in a recent post, that I have never been in love. Though that may offend some, it’s fine time that I decide to be honest and open. I cannot give my love to anyone until I am ready and willing to share all of myself. There is so much in my life that has been left undone because of unhealthy relationships. There are so many goals that have been abandoned or delayed because I’ve wanted to cater to someone else’s needs instead of acknowledging my own.
I’m never going to do that again. I have a short list of things that I intent to accomplish before I jump the broom…and I’d like to share them with you. However, there is a quick disclaimer: if love shows up before I’ve accomplished everything on my list…I will welcome it with open and grateful arms. I will then rely on my partner to encourage me to continue pursuing my dreams and completing each challenge that I start.
MY BROOM LIST (a list of things i'd like to do before i say "i do")
Finish writing my first book
Refresh my wardrobe/Prepare for Life after “25”
Take a road trip with my mom
Have a huge birthday dinner at my parents house with everyone that I love
Get certified in Beginners Yoga and/or Beginners Zumba
Learn how to cook (at least) five new dishes
Triple the balance in my savings account
Buy my first property
Friday, January 28, 2011
I'm No Hoe.....Right?
Liquor poured. Candles glow. He wouldn’t light candles for a hoe…
Right?
Because hoes don’t get to stay the night…don’t get to witness the sun in all of its bold luminescence…
Don’t get to wear pretty dresses and hold hands on street corners.
Hoes only reside on street corners…in toddler-sized tees with tear-stained cheeks.
Short skirts…sidewalk marketing. Customers glimpse (tattered, pitter-pattered, injected-so-get-a-little-fatter)…cheeks. Ass addressed to the highest paying admirer...
I’m no hoe. No. Can’t be…because if I were, he wouldn’t want to be seen with me. Wouldn’t take me out to eat…wouldn’t put $50 pumps on my grateful feet…wouldn’t survive off coconut nectar and honey from bee stings. Hoes don’t get the finer things…
I’m a lady. A different breed…
My only desire is to give him what he needs. Responding to purple pants and passionate red pleads…is my obligation because he didn’t have to extend this invitation.
Didn’t have to choose me….it may be 1am…he may act like this isn’t love…like he doesn’t give a damn. But-somewhere locked tight, beyond the stench of this redundant night…he’s a man. And I’m a lady.
He wants to find the courage to date me…this is only temporary. Can’t pressure him. Commitment is scary…Patience is a virtue…
So I’ll just do what I have to...Because I’m a lady….and this is what ladies do.
Right?
Right?
Because hoes don’t get to stay the night…don’t get to witness the sun in all of its bold luminescence…
Don’t get to wear pretty dresses and hold hands on street corners.
Hoes only reside on street corners…in toddler-sized tees with tear-stained cheeks.
Short skirts…sidewalk marketing. Customers glimpse (tattered, pitter-pattered, injected-so-get-a-little-fatter)…cheeks. Ass addressed to the highest paying admirer...
I’m no hoe. No. Can’t be…because if I were, he wouldn’t want to be seen with me. Wouldn’t take me out to eat…wouldn’t put $50 pumps on my grateful feet…wouldn’t survive off coconut nectar and honey from bee stings. Hoes don’t get the finer things…
I’m a lady. A different breed…
My only desire is to give him what he needs. Responding to purple pants and passionate red pleads…is my obligation because he didn’t have to extend this invitation.
Didn’t have to choose me….it may be 1am…he may act like this isn’t love…like he doesn’t give a damn. But-somewhere locked tight, beyond the stench of this redundant night…he’s a man. And I’m a lady.
He wants to find the courage to date me…this is only temporary. Can’t pressure him. Commitment is scary…Patience is a virtue…
So I’ll just do what I have to...Because I’m a lady….and this is what ladies do.
Right?
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
If Only You Knew...
I’m not the untouchable, fearless woman that I hope to be eventually. I’m only her apprentice. Each day is a struggle for me…as I fight to grow in to/walk in my big girl shoes. I wake up wanting to believe that I will have everything that I deserve, but there are moments and memories that prevent me from maintaining the level of confidence that I need in order to accomplish greatness.
(My version of greatness is: managing motherhood, a career, philanthropy, romance, friendships and personal wellness).
There are so many things that I have done or said out of fear that I wish I could erase or undo. But I can’t. I’ve pushed so many amazing people away because I knew that they had the capacity to hurt me. I pushed them away because they intimidated me or made me uncomfortable with who I have yet to become. My only regret in this lifetime is the mismanagement of my relationships.
Lately, I’ve been casually announcing what I’m ready for i.e. I’m ready for love. I’m ready for all that life has to offer. But the truth is I’m no more ready for love now than I was at 18 years old. (Because my frame of mind has not been renewed). I am still a stubborn woman who wants everything she wants, when she wants it. I decided, long ago, what love had to look and feel like. I didn’t want any variation. I didn’t want to sacrifice control. But I’m learning that I won’t be ready for love or any other miracles until I allow someone else to hold my heart for long enough to understand its contours and subsequently, understand my needs.
I accept the fact that I have never been in love before. I’ve been on top of it, near it, and even trapped under love…but being in love requires the sacrifice of self and power. I have never given anyone my power. I might’ve surrendered to someone else for a moment…but I’ve never put myself in the position to love for a lifetime. I don’t want to continue that trend. I’m throwing up my white flag. I’m surrendering right now.
For those who I’ve hurt or pushed away, I wish you really knew how much I love you. I wish you could find it in your heart to evaluate mine and believe that my intentions are good. If there is room for repair, I pray that we will be connected in the way that God originally intended. My life won’t be nearly as rich without you.
For the only person I’ve ever wanted to change for: If only you knew, that underneath this powerful costume adorned with cockiness and bossiness…is an insecure little girl who just doesn’t want to be abandoned or embarrassed, you would realize that we are perfect for each other. You’d realize that our flaws are capable of combining and creating the most beautiful love story. You’d accept me…and I would stop, habitually, finding ways to reject you…because I love you.
(My version of greatness is: managing motherhood, a career, philanthropy, romance, friendships and personal wellness).
There are so many things that I have done or said out of fear that I wish I could erase or undo. But I can’t. I’ve pushed so many amazing people away because I knew that they had the capacity to hurt me. I pushed them away because they intimidated me or made me uncomfortable with who I have yet to become. My only regret in this lifetime is the mismanagement of my relationships.
Lately, I’ve been casually announcing what I’m ready for i.e. I’m ready for love. I’m ready for all that life has to offer. But the truth is I’m no more ready for love now than I was at 18 years old. (Because my frame of mind has not been renewed). I am still a stubborn woman who wants everything she wants, when she wants it. I decided, long ago, what love had to look and feel like. I didn’t want any variation. I didn’t want to sacrifice control. But I’m learning that I won’t be ready for love or any other miracles until I allow someone else to hold my heart for long enough to understand its contours and subsequently, understand my needs.
I accept the fact that I have never been in love before. I’ve been on top of it, near it, and even trapped under love…but being in love requires the sacrifice of self and power. I have never given anyone my power. I might’ve surrendered to someone else for a moment…but I’ve never put myself in the position to love for a lifetime. I don’t want to continue that trend. I’m throwing up my white flag. I’m surrendering right now.
For those who I’ve hurt or pushed away, I wish you really knew how much I love you. I wish you could find it in your heart to evaluate mine and believe that my intentions are good. If there is room for repair, I pray that we will be connected in the way that God originally intended. My life won’t be nearly as rich without you.
For the only person I’ve ever wanted to change for: If only you knew, that underneath this powerful costume adorned with cockiness and bossiness…is an insecure little girl who just doesn’t want to be abandoned or embarrassed, you would realize that we are perfect for each other. You’d realize that our flaws are capable of combining and creating the most beautiful love story. You’d accept me…and I would stop, habitually, finding ways to reject you…because I love you.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
No More BS.
I'm making a declaration today. And it is a declaration that will be important forever. It will not change, nor will it wash away with drunkenness-doubt-fear-or frustration. I will not reverse my declaration to suit any temporary desires nor will I try to re-word it to appease my cravings. Because I'm tired of the (bs).
Let me be clear. There isn't much that holds the potent stench of (bs) in my life. I actually consider myself to be a human detector of all things false-misleading-unhealthy-toxic. I remove things and people from my life daily, because I'm so determined to have a life full of all things beautiful. I don't leave any room for the mishaps or the mistakes that might destroy me and my life plan. I analyze everything. I try to be prepared for everything. So when (bs) creeps in to my life, I'm annoyed yet amused by the clever delivery that must've been required in order for (bs) to be left on my doorstep.
If I may, I need to take a moment to drop the analogies and poetic disposition that I usually hold on to for dear life so that I can tell you...that I am currently dealing with the reality that being ready for love and being ready for a life filled with everything healthy is amazing. However, the bullsh!t that I'm stepping in as I'm running toward the 'greener' grass on other other side...is potent and slimy.
Am I the only one that feels like (bs) drops from the sky like hail once my mind is set on accomplishing something huge or taking my life to another level? I have been exposed to more nonsense in the first 19 days of January than I experienced in the 365 days of 2010. Obviously, something in the atmosphere is intimidated by the magnitude of my upcoming pursuits. Something is trying to stop me before I have the opportunity to really get my life started. And I just can't have that.
So, let me put it out there...so that it is recorded, clear and bold. There is nothing and no one that is going to keep me from the best that this life has to offer. I can finally smell the (bs) long before I step in it and I refuse to continue to dance through the land mines of life, then spend my precious time cleaning the dung off my dancing shoes. I really don't want to settle for anything anymore. It's nauseating. I don't want the watered-down version. I don't want plan-B. I don't want the knock off. I want the gorgeous life that I was born to live.
I can't keep accepting less than I deserve because, if I do, I'll eventually forget what I deserve. My standards are high and my sight is higher. I'm reaching for the sky. In 2011, I want to accomplish so much that I can swing from the moon or play hopscotch on the stars. This is my year. The first 19 days will serve as the only reminder that I needed, that there is no time for bullsh!t this year.
And that's real.
Let me be clear. There isn't much that holds the potent stench of (bs) in my life. I actually consider myself to be a human detector of all things false-misleading-unhealthy-toxic. I remove things and people from my life daily, because I'm so determined to have a life full of all things beautiful. I don't leave any room for the mishaps or the mistakes that might destroy me and my life plan. I analyze everything. I try to be prepared for everything. So when (bs) creeps in to my life, I'm annoyed yet amused by the clever delivery that must've been required in order for (bs) to be left on my doorstep.
If I may, I need to take a moment to drop the analogies and poetic disposition that I usually hold on to for dear life so that I can tell you...that I am currently dealing with the reality that being ready for love and being ready for a life filled with everything healthy is amazing. However, the bullsh!t that I'm stepping in as I'm running toward the 'greener' grass on other other side...is potent and slimy.
Am I the only one that feels like (bs) drops from the sky like hail once my mind is set on accomplishing something huge or taking my life to another level? I have been exposed to more nonsense in the first 19 days of January than I experienced in the 365 days of 2010. Obviously, something in the atmosphere is intimidated by the magnitude of my upcoming pursuits. Something is trying to stop me before I have the opportunity to really get my life started. And I just can't have that.
So, let me put it out there...so that it is recorded, clear and bold. There is nothing and no one that is going to keep me from the best that this life has to offer. I can finally smell the (bs) long before I step in it and I refuse to continue to dance through the land mines of life, then spend my precious time cleaning the dung off my dancing shoes. I really don't want to settle for anything anymore. It's nauseating. I don't want the watered-down version. I don't want plan-B. I don't want the knock off. I want the gorgeous life that I was born to live.
I can't keep accepting less than I deserve because, if I do, I'll eventually forget what I deserve. My standards are high and my sight is higher. I'm reaching for the sky. In 2011, I want to accomplish so much that I can swing from the moon or play hopscotch on the stars. This is my year. The first 19 days will serve as the only reminder that I needed, that there is no time for bullsh!t this year.
And that's real.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
I am (Finally) Ready for Love.
When you’re ready to love somebody, you’ll know. You won’t have to conduct interviews…or make comparison charts…or contemplate life decisions in wee hours of the morning. You’ll just know…because love isn’t analytical. It isn’t messy or exhausting like an on-going game of tug-o-war between children.
Loving somebody isn’t about who’s more interested or who exerts more effort. There’s a natural connection and desire to get closer to the other person. You forget to count how many times you’ve called versus how many calls you’ve received. You forget to stay upset and obsess about all those little details that leave you wondering whether your muse is sincere.
There’s a moment when everything feels…authentic. Love isn’t the chase. It isn’t the light-hearted outings or the hand-holding or the eye contact. Love is what happens once you give someone 3,000,000 reasons to leave…yet he or she continues to come back.
Loving somebody isn’t about who’s more interested or who exerts more effort. There’s a natural connection and desire to get closer to the other person. You forget to count how many times you’ve called versus how many calls you’ve received. You forget to stay upset and obsess about all those little details that leave you wondering whether your muse is sincere.
There’s a moment when everything feels…authentic. Love isn’t the chase. It isn’t the light-hearted outings or the hand-holding or the eye contact. Love is what happens once you give someone 3,000,000 reasons to leave…yet he or she continues to come back.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Hint: Key to His Heart...Isn't in Your Panties.
Once every 7 years or so, I'm awestruck by the celestial timing of things. Today, I'm literally stunned/stilled by the wisdom I just received from a woman I've talked with on numerous occasions...but never shared life stories with (I don't think she even knows my last name). We've never gotten beyond the kind-hearted, Southern greetings. We've never hugged...or cried together. But, the way that she just spoke to my heart has me convinced that she's been carrying this little seed of brilliance since she met me. And I have no choice but to forward it on to you.
For the sake of the story, we'll call her Michelle. Now-Michelle is a Southern Belle in the worst way. She was raised in Georgia, talks with a twang and walks with a Beyonce switch. She thinks her doodoo don't stink. She has a daughter that I nicknamed "diva" because she's only 3 yrs old and her attitude is twice her size. I think they're both adorable. For whatever reason, Michelle felt talkative today. We exchanged light comments about the weather...cost of living in our cute suburbia town...etc.
In the middle of our dialogue (while I was holding "diva" on my hip)...my loud, obnoxious, unattractive, and seemingly drunken co-worker blurts out the following: "AWW! YOU LOOK SO GOOD HOLDING THAT BABY. YOU REALLY NEED A BABY OF YOUR OWN."
I immediately put Diva down, held up my hands and, with my index fingers, formed a cross because I was convinced that this delusional nutcase was trying to put some sort of voodoo hex on me. She was so unneccesarily enthusiastic about the idea of me having a child-like-today. (I should inform you that I'm not married...and I can barely afford my lifestyle. I have no idea how I'd provide for a child).
Michelle passionately whispered to me, "DON'T LET THAT CRAZY B(with an)ITCH TELL YOU THAT YOU NEED TO RUSH AND HAVE KIDS. YOU'RE DOING FINE AS YOU ARE."
That's what started our 1-hour pow wow about women, relationships, and children. Michelle told me that she was proud of me (though she barely knows me) for representing women well by not rushing to have a baby with some man who doesn't know if he's coming or going. She reminded me that young women are going about "catching a man" all wrong. She said that we're all trying to catch men between our legs instead of with our hearts.
I was inspired to share that tidbit because I've noticed that when I really care about someone I tend to withhold the most intimate portions of myself for as long as possible. I don't like to hand out my love like samples of mixed nuts at the grocery store. I was raised to believe that I'm unique and phenomenal. So, I live that way. I think the problem is that most women want so desperately to be accepted that they reject their personal standards in order to get the attention of men who really can't tell one hole from the other. I'm not trying to be vulgar...but if we keep putting ourselves in these assembly lines and trying to fit in, we'll never stand out in any man's memory.
Show him something he hasn't seen recently. Show him something authentic. Remind him that good conversation isn't found via text at 3am. Don't be flattered when he buys you one watered-down drink and some hush puppies from Cook-Out. Your love is worth more than $9(the cost of the drink and the hush puppies).
I'm no saint. I can't say that enough. People seem to think I'm sharing from some stage of devout perfection. And that couldn't be further from the truth. The truth is: I'm not willing to have a broken heart while attempting to capture some man's heart the wrong way. Sex isn't what really intrigues anybody these days because it's readily available and watered down...
What's intriguing is finding 1 person out of the thousands you'll be exposed to daily, that you actually want to interact with...share your ideas with...grow with...and potentially, love. Love isn't extinct. But it is endangered.
The key to his heart isn't in your panties...it's in your feminine touch, your embrace, your kindness, your beauty, your intelligence and ultimately, your self-worth. If you don't think you're worth loving, you'll always give away free samples of your body. And you'll always wake up alone...wondering what you're doing wrong.
I promise.
For the sake of the story, we'll call her Michelle. Now-Michelle is a Southern Belle in the worst way. She was raised in Georgia, talks with a twang and walks with a Beyonce switch. She thinks her doodoo don't stink. She has a daughter that I nicknamed "diva" because she's only 3 yrs old and her attitude is twice her size. I think they're both adorable. For whatever reason, Michelle felt talkative today. We exchanged light comments about the weather...cost of living in our cute suburbia town...etc.
In the middle of our dialogue (while I was holding "diva" on my hip)...my loud, obnoxious, unattractive, and seemingly drunken co-worker blurts out the following: "AWW! YOU LOOK SO GOOD HOLDING THAT BABY. YOU REALLY NEED A BABY OF YOUR OWN."
I immediately put Diva down, held up my hands and, with my index fingers, formed a cross because I was convinced that this delusional nutcase was trying to put some sort of voodoo hex on me. She was so unneccesarily enthusiastic about the idea of me having a child-like-today. (I should inform you that I'm not married...and I can barely afford my lifestyle. I have no idea how I'd provide for a child).
Michelle passionately whispered to me, "DON'T LET THAT CRAZY B(with an)ITCH TELL YOU THAT YOU NEED TO RUSH AND HAVE KIDS. YOU'RE DOING FINE AS YOU ARE."
That's what started our 1-hour pow wow about women, relationships, and children. Michelle told me that she was proud of me (though she barely knows me) for representing women well by not rushing to have a baby with some man who doesn't know if he's coming or going. She reminded me that young women are going about "catching a man" all wrong. She said that we're all trying to catch men between our legs instead of with our hearts.
I was inspired to share that tidbit because I've noticed that when I really care about someone I tend to withhold the most intimate portions of myself for as long as possible. I don't like to hand out my love like samples of mixed nuts at the grocery store. I was raised to believe that I'm unique and phenomenal. So, I live that way. I think the problem is that most women want so desperately to be accepted that they reject their personal standards in order to get the attention of men who really can't tell one hole from the other. I'm not trying to be vulgar...but if we keep putting ourselves in these assembly lines and trying to fit in, we'll never stand out in any man's memory.
Show him something he hasn't seen recently. Show him something authentic. Remind him that good conversation isn't found via text at 3am. Don't be flattered when he buys you one watered-down drink and some hush puppies from Cook-Out. Your love is worth more than $9(the cost of the drink and the hush puppies).
I'm no saint. I can't say that enough. People seem to think I'm sharing from some stage of devout perfection. And that couldn't be further from the truth. The truth is: I'm not willing to have a broken heart while attempting to capture some man's heart the wrong way. Sex isn't what really intrigues anybody these days because it's readily available and watered down...
What's intriguing is finding 1 person out of the thousands you'll be exposed to daily, that you actually want to interact with...share your ideas with...grow with...and potentially, love. Love isn't extinct. But it is endangered.
The key to his heart isn't in your panties...it's in your feminine touch, your embrace, your kindness, your beauty, your intelligence and ultimately, your self-worth. If you don't think you're worth loving, you'll always give away free samples of your body. And you'll always wake up alone...wondering what you're doing wrong.
I promise.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Wisdom for the Woman Within
You have every right to fall, to fumble…to feel and to become. Each person you’ve loved, whether serving in a familial or a romantic role, has probably tried to portion you by telling you just how much of yourself you’re permitted to be.You’ve most likely been restricted, caged, and controlled for the better span of your life. Everyone loves your free spirit but no wants to hear it when it coes at night. No one wants it to become a monster that grows at the sight of anything slightly desireable. No wants to deal with the reality that you’ll never be trained, you’ll never entertain on a stage for the admired but untouchable, and you’ll never tame your natural tendency to roam.
I know that you’ve never found a home…and when you have established your own haven…someone has always invited him or herself into your sanctuary. You’ve never known the powerful hum of loneliness. Because there is always someone who wants to put you in a glass display case and own you.
You hereby have the permission to become who you want to become. It doesn’t matter where you’re going or where you’ve come from. I suggest you find the will and the means to soar beyond and above their restrictions. Run, like the redeemed flee from the wrath of hell. Journey through and to the pain that waits for you…because eventually pain blossoms into potential. I’m convinced that there is more for you on the other side of your own sanity.
Stop thinking. Start experiencing. Fall in love and let it drown you. Give away your power. Then claim your joy.
I know that you’ve never found a home…and when you have established your own haven…someone has always invited him or herself into your sanctuary. You’ve never known the powerful hum of loneliness. Because there is always someone who wants to put you in a glass display case and own you.
You hereby have the permission to become who you want to become. It doesn’t matter where you’re going or where you’ve come from. I suggest you find the will and the means to soar beyond and above their restrictions. Run, like the redeemed flee from the wrath of hell. Journey through and to the pain that waits for you…because eventually pain blossoms into potential. I’m convinced that there is more for you on the other side of your own sanity.
Stop thinking. Start experiencing. Fall in love and let it drown you. Give away your power. Then claim your joy.
Monday, November 22, 2010
HOW TO BE A BARBIE
The 1950’s was marked as a decade for feminine submission and male “dominance” in both the home and work place. Traditional women were proud to dress in their finest garments to wait for their men to arrive home from work, in order to serve mixed drinks as well as that day’s paper. Women aimed to represent their husbands well by maintaining a sophisticated, feminine image at all times.
Fashion Flashback: Women were (almost always) in perfectly tailored dresses and gowns. Point being? Women took pride in their appearances constantly and were committed to be refined, easy-on-the-eyes, and classy.
This is probably a good time to mention that there are 50% more women between the ages of 15-29 who haven’t been married (in 2010) than there were in 1952. That means that roughly 40,000,000 more women are single today than 50+ years ago.
In 2010, most women grow nauseous at the idea of serving as the more domesticated partner and essentially, a trophy for an egotistical man. But there’s something that I think we all need to be viciously real about…and I just can’t keep this dose of relentless to myself any longer. Because, I am one of few who believe (wholeheartedly) that the truth isn’t only liberating but it is vital for the survival of relationships. Now, I realize that everyone isn’t ready for the truth. I can accept that. But in due time, everything surfaces…no matter how weighted down or how defecated…there will come a time when all that is hidden will wash up onto the shore of discovery.
And the buried, murdered, drowning truth is that women are letting themselves go at a fierce rate. I think that we’re all too modern and appropriate and empowered to talk about how important appearance still is!
I’m not suggesting we all get barefoot and run to the nearest kitchen, but I am wondering when women started associating sloppiness or laziness with independence? I know that there are currently more women in the workforce (in America) than men. I know there are more female CEO’s every year. We are powerful and proud of it…but we’re also becoming more obese, more sloppy…and consequently, more lonely. We also misrepresent ourselves by thinking that bleach-stained sweatpants and a baseball cap is appropriate happy-hour/errand attire.
Anyone who loves having a beautiful woman around can tell you that beauty is exhilarating. Effort is intoxicating. And finesse is erotic. So when…did it become okay to leave the house without your ‘face in place’. Why do women think that it’s okay to look like they’ve just been mugged when they arrive at the workplace? Why are stilettos heels somehow considered condescending and ancient? As far as I can tell, most women still want to get married…but most women don’t take the time to represent themselves as desirable and fascinating.
I, for one, will not be in that clump of women who want to sit at home alone on Saturday night because I’m too “independent” to put on some MAC gloss and a LBD (little black dress) in order to gain an admirer or two. I’m not too proud to be pretty. Therefore, I’ve defined my attitude about this topic as “Barbie Basics”.
Being a Barbie, in my opinion, is about glowing in spite of burdens and baggage. Barbies know how to laugh at the right moment in the right pitch, tilt the head at the right angle, and get results by cutting the eyes in the right direction. Barbies accentuate their partners…not overshadow. Intelligent women, who are entrepreneurial and have their own wealth, are capable of being Barbies. Because true Barbies know that being feminine isn’t somehow a threat to the Women’s Movement of 2010. I love being on the arm of someone who is proud to have me near, who wants to protect me, and boasts a little just by having me around. I do dress to impress. And it’s not that I do it for everyone else, I dress because I know that I am God’s ornament on this Earth. I take pride in how I present myself. I’m not insulted by the reality that being pretty is important, that being attractive is imperative, and being feminine makes me all the more fabulous.
Women need to be a little more willing to play dress up. We should be eager to get up each day and get ready for life. A college friend, who is now Miss North Carolina, once told me what she wore heels every day because she could meet her soul mate anywhere (in the drugstore, at the carwash, etc). And I admit, she is and always has been a stunning woman who turns heads 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Her philosophy seemed slightly desperate at the time, but I later realized that her goal wasn’t to “catch a man” but to keep herself up. If we were more willing to represent ourselves well more often, we wouldn’t be so likely to let ourselves go so quickly after finding love. We’d get “in the habit” of being visually phenomenal. We’d realize that we feel more alive and more alert when we feel beautiful.
Being a Barbie isn’t about submitting to any man or wearing uncomfortable shoes to the grocery store. Being a Barbie is about being willing to be just as pretty as you are powerful. I just think every woman should be willing to strike a balance between ambition and attitude about living a fabulous, fashionable…fulfilling life.
Fashion Flashback: Women were (almost always) in perfectly tailored dresses and gowns. Point being? Women took pride in their appearances constantly and were committed to be refined, easy-on-the-eyes, and classy.
This is probably a good time to mention that there are 50% more women between the ages of 15-29 who haven’t been married (in 2010) than there were in 1952. That means that roughly 40,000,000 more women are single today than 50+ years ago.
In 2010, most women grow nauseous at the idea of serving as the more domesticated partner and essentially, a trophy for an egotistical man. But there’s something that I think we all need to be viciously real about…and I just can’t keep this dose of relentless to myself any longer. Because, I am one of few who believe (wholeheartedly) that the truth isn’t only liberating but it is vital for the survival of relationships. Now, I realize that everyone isn’t ready for the truth. I can accept that. But in due time, everything surfaces…no matter how weighted down or how defecated…there will come a time when all that is hidden will wash up onto the shore of discovery.
And the buried, murdered, drowning truth is that women are letting themselves go at a fierce rate. I think that we’re all too modern and appropriate and empowered to talk about how important appearance still is!
I’m not suggesting we all get barefoot and run to the nearest kitchen, but I am wondering when women started associating sloppiness or laziness with independence? I know that there are currently more women in the workforce (in America) than men. I know there are more female CEO’s every year. We are powerful and proud of it…but we’re also becoming more obese, more sloppy…and consequently, more lonely. We also misrepresent ourselves by thinking that bleach-stained sweatpants and a baseball cap is appropriate happy-hour/errand attire.
Anyone who loves having a beautiful woman around can tell you that beauty is exhilarating. Effort is intoxicating. And finesse is erotic. So when…did it become okay to leave the house without your ‘face in place’. Why do women think that it’s okay to look like they’ve just been mugged when they arrive at the workplace? Why are stilettos heels somehow considered condescending and ancient? As far as I can tell, most women still want to get married…but most women don’t take the time to represent themselves as desirable and fascinating.
I, for one, will not be in that clump of women who want to sit at home alone on Saturday night because I’m too “independent” to put on some MAC gloss and a LBD (little black dress) in order to gain an admirer or two. I’m not too proud to be pretty. Therefore, I’ve defined my attitude about this topic as “Barbie Basics”.
Being a Barbie, in my opinion, is about glowing in spite of burdens and baggage. Barbies know how to laugh at the right moment in the right pitch, tilt the head at the right angle, and get results by cutting the eyes in the right direction. Barbies accentuate their partners…not overshadow. Intelligent women, who are entrepreneurial and have their own wealth, are capable of being Barbies. Because true Barbies know that being feminine isn’t somehow a threat to the Women’s Movement of 2010. I love being on the arm of someone who is proud to have me near, who wants to protect me, and boasts a little just by having me around. I do dress to impress. And it’s not that I do it for everyone else, I dress because I know that I am God’s ornament on this Earth. I take pride in how I present myself. I’m not insulted by the reality that being pretty is important, that being attractive is imperative, and being feminine makes me all the more fabulous.
Women need to be a little more willing to play dress up. We should be eager to get up each day and get ready for life. A college friend, who is now Miss North Carolina, once told me what she wore heels every day because she could meet her soul mate anywhere (in the drugstore, at the carwash, etc). And I admit, she is and always has been a stunning woman who turns heads 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Her philosophy seemed slightly desperate at the time, but I later realized that her goal wasn’t to “catch a man” but to keep herself up. If we were more willing to represent ourselves well more often, we wouldn’t be so likely to let ourselves go so quickly after finding love. We’d get “in the habit” of being visually phenomenal. We’d realize that we feel more alive and more alert when we feel beautiful.
Being a Barbie isn’t about submitting to any man or wearing uncomfortable shoes to the grocery store. Being a Barbie is about being willing to be just as pretty as you are powerful. I just think every woman should be willing to strike a balance between ambition and attitude about living a fabulous, fashionable…fulfilling life.
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