22 hours ago
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Big Girl Weight (or How to Shake Your Booty With Confidence)
Last nigt I attempted to have a similar conversation. But this time with a dude. Not just any dude. A dude I like. I llike him at about a 6 on a 10 point scale. Where a 1 is indifference and 10 is a turning in the players card and changing my number so the jump-offs can't find me type ish.
It went something like this (WARNING: in my head I am a twenty something hair dresser living in Compton)
Me: hey Fred
Fred: hey boo whats up
Me: I wanted to let you know that alladat sayin you gon call and not callin needs to cease, yo.
I know you be all busy n shit but ain't no excuse for poor manners, boo boo.
Fred: yeah yeah you right you right. I'm sorry
Me: It's all good. you know I been likin you a long time and I just want to work this shit out now.
cuz i'm fitna make you my man, and you know, maybe possibly change my fb status. But that can't happen if you keep jackin stuff up. You may be my startin' line up, but I could still pull a nigga off the bench, yo.
Fred: Aaw baby don't do that. I know you are down for me and ain't too many broads out here a nigga can count on like that. I'm sorry. It won't happen again. I'm not gon take you for granted, shawty.
me: That's right. I'm ride or die, boo. You already know, daddy.
But unfortunately the conversation didn't go like that. Unfortunately, I'm not a tough chick from Compton who does hair. I'm just a scared little browngirl from Bowie who is tryna pray her way out of an anxiety disorder.
So the conversation actually went like this:
Me: Hey Fred
Fred: What's up
Me: Whatcha doin'
Fred: Nothin, just workin'
me: um, I just wanted to talk to you about something that was bothering me. Um, I thought it was best to tell you so I wouldn't hold onto it and . . .(trailing off)
me: Well I noticed that there were a few times this weekend that you said you would call or call back and you didin't.
Fred: yeah I didn't call back. I'm sorry
me: it's okay. I just wanted to get it off my chest because I get really anxious in situations like this. And when I get anxious, I lose weight and I just got my booty just the right size and I would hate to lose it. (right now I'm begging myself just to shut up)
Fred: um, wait what? Are you blaming me for the size of your booty?
me: No! I just mean that I get anxious and um, . . .nevermind
Fred: Well, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. You're right the weekend was really crazy and I got caught up, but im sorry about that.
And then we continued with a perfectly fine conversation. So yeah, not the Compton scenario, but the world didn't crumble after. Although I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm obsessed with my booty. Which is just fine, cuz I kinda am.
But have no fear. I was a big girl and my big girl weight is fully intact. The first picture below is one taken a year ago at my 36th birthday party. fabulous, yes. But check out the skeleton like thingie that was passing for a shoulder (that was full on anxiety attacks weekly, days in bed). The second picture was taken a year later, at cute boys birthday party. Same dress. Big girl weight in full effect. You can't see the booty, but check out them hips and thighs, boo. You already know...