Big Girl Weight (or How to Shake Your Booty With Confidence)

It is very interesting to me how I can be perfectly sane and forthright a person in my business relationships and be just as nervous and evasive in my personal ones. This morning I had a very straightforward discussion with a teacher, confronting him regarding his behavior which I felt was divisive and dishonest. I stated what the behavior was, how I felt about it, and its potential consequences. He stated his motivations, he apologized, new expectations were set. Fences mended, we move on.

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.

So a 6 is a solid like with potential for forward motion. Like 6 with a bullet. So dude, who I have named "Fred" is real cool. You know real nice and not too arrogant. And as Mary Poppins would say, "doesn't press his advantage." (Don't sleep, Mary Poppins gives great relationship advice). But some time has passed and real life has started up and consequently Fred's representative has clearly left the building. Last weekend there were a few of those "I'll call you back laters" which ended in no calls back and me grinding my teeth in anger. so I figure I'd let him know how I feel about that. I mean its a matter of basic manners. So I had the whole conversation generated in my head. Cuz basically I live about 75% of my life in my head.

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)



Fred: ok



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...

Be Good To Yourself

I had a good day today.




At work I was at my best. Modeled a lesson and cajoled a foundation. All in two hours.



Then I left and spent the day with a beautiful boy. May be my favorite post divorce. And knowing that I only wrote "may be" because sometimes in my heart of hearts behind my bravado and fabulous bod, I think all good things will eventually leave if they know I want it . . . I'm working on it.



And then stopping for Popeyes and at Jackies Liquors for chicken and a splurge on some nuvo. Eating dinner with the boys and the younger one asks, "what does that say" pointing at the picture in the dining room. I say, "it says Home Sweet Home". The older one says, "yes, home in DC" I ask him if living in laurel isn't sweet. He says, "actually its kind of sweeter." The little one says, "that's a funny word, "home". I said, "why is it a funny word." He says, "listen, hoMe...Hooooome...Hoooommmme." and then we all laugh because the way he is saying it is very funny indeed.



And now I am writing and in a second I will take a hot shower and watch American Idol wrapped in my favorite towel. over a year ago I wrote a note about all of my favorite things and vowing to spend my days spending more time doing things that I am good at and that I enjoy. I am glad that promise is one that I made good on.



Be good to yourself. You deserve it. It is necessary. It is your responsibility to you. Be present in the little moments. For it is those little moments that make up a lifetime and the ones you need to remember in the not so bright times...