Cut. The. Shit.

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Want to know what I’m and sick and tired of? FOS (aka Full Of Shitness). And although I’m sick of it, I’m also somewhat intrigued by it. Like why do we feel compelled to BS people…and themselves? What’s the pay off? I think I have a natural propensity to assume most people are full of it to be honest (blame it on my experiences). I give myself pep talks that go a little something like this: Hey, everybody’s not full of it.  EVERYBODY can’t be auditioning for the role of BS artist.  Be open. Give him or her a chance. Imagine my annoyance when my initial suspicions are confirmed. I knew your bleepity bleep was full of it. 

And I guess the reality is we all can be full of it at times. Some of us carry FOS morsels while others are lugging around  whole barrels full of nothing but…you guessed it.  Let’s all vow to cut the shit for the rest of 2017.  Let’s “keep it one hundred” with ourselves and others. If you think your homegirl’s hair looks a hot mess, don’t front and tell her you think it looks cute. If you know you’re not going to call that guy you’re not attracted to, don’t have him calling Sprint to see if something’s wrong with his service/reception. If you’re not leaving your child’s mother  for your girlfriend on the side, man cut the shit, and stop telling your girlfriend you’re working on it ( You ain’t working on bleeeeep. You’re going to be right there with your child’s mother and those kids so cut it!), if you’re not about that swinging/sharing life (Molly reference) stop promoting falsehoods, forcing yourself to do things not in agreement with who you are at your core. Just cut the shit. If you just played the woman like a fiddle for a green card stop trying to present as if you really loved her (90 Day Fiance reference). Cut it! If you’re telling every girl you meet that she’s The One (knowing you lying)  please…cut the shit. Sincerity trumps charm every single day of the year. Just saying. If you’re miserable AF in your relationships, stop posting and posturing as if you’re the luckiest, happiest girl/guy in the world. You’re being a BS artist and you need to cut the shit. I could go on and on with examples of FOS but I’m confident you understand the gist of what’s being expressed.

I’ll be cutting the shit as well for the duration of 2017.  I will speak my truth. I will have courageous conversations instead of smiling and being cordial all while avoiding the pink elephant in the room. I’ll remind myself…Rhonda,this is a great time to cut the shit as often as needed. My goal is to not bullshit anyone,  and I don’t want anyone trying to bullshit me.  I’d love to close 2017 out more authenically than I started it.  I invite you to come along on this journey. Cheers to cutting the shit.

 

Finding Something Real Later In The Game

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As I  smile and click the like button (they really need a love button feature) on most of her pics, and tell friends, “I’m so happy for her. Look at her! She radiates joy and happiness.”, you’d think Letoya Luckett was a personal girlfriend of mine. She’s not, but that would be so cool! ( Her IG posts give me the impression she enjoys life and living. And I love that.) Nonetheless her recent announcement, beach pics with bae, videos, and more fill me with joy.

Let me be real clear, I’m happy for all women who find something real. But I find myself ELATED for women who find something real a little later in the game.  Later in the game meaning you didn’t have the luxury of meeting and marrying your high school sweetheart. Or the privilege of taking that fine chocolate fella who majored in Finance off the market, at the tender ripe age of 21.  Checking meet, marry, and be in a happy, healthy, and loving marriage, with a good man, off your list so you can move on to other life goals.  Nah. For Later In The Game girls something real (solid love) didn’t debut (or hasn’t debuted) as seamlessly as you once may have thought it should. You’ve been through some trials and errors. Some of us more than others.  You’ve found yourself baffled when you’ve done everything you thought you should do but the Love math still ain’t add up right. You may have even declared  after one too many relationship fails Fuck. This. Shit. Now I’m gonna be done (in my Sammy from Jersey Shore voice). Letoya shares that she also struggled with staying open, hopeful, optimistic about Love after her failed relationship with Rob Hill (Me being nosy: Why did they breakup anyway?). But she prayed about meeting someone amazing, had faith, and lived her life (YAAASSSS! I love a girl who lives her life!) until her desire manifested itself.

Earlier I mentioned being filled with joy when her pics blast my timeline. I have to wonder if a small part of this is connected to selfish reasons. You know how in church pastors will tell you to be happy for others who are being blessed because it means you’re blessing may be coming next?  Her story makes me feel less Fuck This Shit: All These MF’s crazy (hands claps inserted) and a little more OK. Sweet, Genuine, Good Hearted Guys Still Exist: Finding Something Real Is Still  Possible…even for Later In The Game girls like me.

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I’m appreciative of Letoya being so open and sharing her story with us. My mustard seed size faith in Love has grown a little more consequently. I hope yours’ has as well.

Oh Tinder

 

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This summer has been quite entertaining to be honest. Nonetheless, about a month ago, I guess I decided a little more entertainment, on those occasional long days of summer, couldn’t hurt (wrong). Those days when everyone else was working, reading didn’t keep my full attention, naps started to bore me, nothing good was on TV, I’d already posted nine times on IG, and my work out class didn’t start for another five hours, Tinder to the rescue. The first few days it was kind of fun. I likened it to playing a video game (although I’m not a huge video game player). Swipe left. Swipe left. Left again. Now right! OK.  I see you. It’s a match! And the next time you’re bored, you play your video game some more. Unfortunately (for me) the novelty of Tinder wore off …real fast. This shit ain’t fun no more.

Why Tinder’s No Longer Fun:

  1. I’m convinced a significant number of people are just curious to know who thinks they’re nice looking. I say this because I have numerous matches in my Tinder log at the moment. These are clearly guys I thought were handsome or kinda cute; guys who must have thought I was at least ok looking. We both swiped right…and that was it! No, greeting, No messages. No nothing. Was I supposed to send a greeting message or something? (Cause I didn’t.) Well, on the bright side, at least I know about 100 (exaggerated number but you get my point) guys from the DMV area think I’m cute. And that’s just so fucking fulfilling. (Sarcasm inserted).
  2.  Tinder definitely has quantity, but I’m not yet convinced it has much to offer me at this time. From the guy who just wants a smoking partner, to the guy who refers to himself as a “freelance gynecologist”, to the guy who referred to me as “cocoa puff” (what the) to the self-proclaimed “cunning linguist” , I think I’m good. Oh and how could I forget the guys who post print pics and almost nudes ? So you’re just all up on the app with your dick out ? in my Kevin Hart voice. I revised my profile to expedite the weeding out process. Matches and messages got dry almost instantaneously.
  3. Tinder doesn’t encourage or inspire  me to be open-minded. My tinder apathy could have a lot to do with everything mentioned in point #2 in my defense. You live 20 miles away?  Too far. Nope. Why you got those silly looking shorts on? Nope. Duck lips? On a dude? Fuck nah. Four kids? As in 4? Nope! I could legit be “Noping” a small (very, very, very small) percentage of quality people on petty technicalities.  But let me check to see how many fukks I give and get back to you on that.

There’s definitely more I can talk about, like the married/involved guys posturing as eligible bachelors. But I think that may deserve a post all of its own. It’s said that  anything you want, you have to work hard for it. But my spirit tells me this is some foolishness and I shouldn’t have to work this hard. I mean, it’s not work work, but it is annoying. And  I equate annoying to hard work. So I think I’ll close my summer out meeting people more organically. (That reminds me, I’m gonna be late for Happy Hour if I don’t hurry up). In the interim, I think I’ll be taking a step back from Tinder for now. All things considered, I’m okay with that.

 

Signing off as A Girl Who Just Doesn’t Think Tinder’s For Her

 

Why I Appreciated Girls Trip

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A friend and I recently had the opportunity to exchange thoughts regarding the recently released Girls Trip. She shared how she thought she was a combination of Lisa and Dina. We laughed for what felt like hours as we recalled the golden shower and grapefruit scenes. A moment was also designated to clarify some grapefruit related information for me. (People really do that? THAT’S what that lady was talking about in that video? Hmmm. Interesting. Well what about the citrus juice? I wonder why she said don’t use a pineapple though?). And my friends are kind enough to take their time with me. I love them for that. They know I process some things on the slower side. Lol.

We talked about Ryan’s unfulfilling relationship. How my aunt thought  her husband was “ugly”.  “They could’ve gotten a better looking man than that to play her husband. That man was ugly.”, were her exact words.  My friend totally disagreed by the way. “If she would’ve stayed with him, not told the truth, and continued living a lie I would have cried for her.” , concluded my mom. My friend and I touched on how we were happy to see Ryan get her swagger back at the end of the movie and the possibility of her pairing with Larenz Tate’s character. Speaking of Larenz Tate!  He looks freakin amazing! He almost makes me want to consider being vegan. Almost. For now, I’ll consume meat/dairy in moderation. Work out 3-4 times a week. Shoot for a gallon of water a day. And get plenty of rest. That’s all I got. Chicken wings and macaroni and cheese be calling my name. Then we reminisced on personal Essence experiences, many moons ago (chasing Boris Kodjoe down the road so we could get a picture. He looks just as good in person as he does in photos and on T.V.  There was no shame in leaving a table full of girlfriends in a Nawlins restaurant while we broke out into young jogs, for blocks, racing to catch up with BK’s fine ass. And it was so worth  it!).

After the laughing, note comparisons, and reminiscing concluded,  I was reminded of  what I appreciated most about Girls Trip (even more so than the opportunity to drool over Kofi’s beautiful self) . I appreciate how  the true testament of true friendship was represented in GT. As they went in on each other in that hotel lobby, threw the F word around like crazy, said some pretty hurtful things to one another, and made unfair assumptions, I wondered how in the world would they  recover; if they’d recover.  As a person who is prone to putting  walls up as a safeguard from pain,  it made me wonder  if I’d be open, willing, vulnerable enough to rekindle with friends after such offenses. I loved how they said what they felt needed to be said, issued sincere apologies,  cleared up misconceptions, clean slated each other, and kept the party going.   I once believed a sign of  a true friendship is never being offended by anyone. Every friend doing and saying the right things so there are never any “issues”. But that’s bullshit. That’s not how life works… at all.  And it holds people to unfair and unrealistic standards. I now feel that true friendship involves being able to make mistakes (because no one is perfect), having a safe space where you can be vulnerable and not guarded, vulnerable enough to aplogize when your’e wrong, vulnerable enough to forgive, clean slate, and keep the friend train moving. True friendship involves courage and having uncomfortable conversations instead of taking the easy route (done-ing someone). It involves valuing the relationships you have more than you value your pride or image. They can involve work sometimes. But true friendships are worth the work.

I will be seeing Girls Trip for a third time today!  And no, not because I want to drool over Kofi (again). I want to accompany and spend quality time with a friend  (cousin) who hasn’t seen it yet, laugh some more, and be reminded once again of what true friendship looks like.

Happy National Book Lovers Day!

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Aye! It’s a day for lovers. Book lovers that is!  In honor of this day, I’d like to share a little bit about a book I’m currently reading (actually it’s being read to me courtesy of Audible) entitled This is Just My Face: Try Not to Stare by the witty and spunky and talented Gabourey Sidibe. Her humor, sarcasm, transparency, and nonchalance regarding being “PC”, combined,  make this book EVERYTHING!

I was hooked after the first chapter!  “But I am dope at any and every size. I am smart. I am funny. I am talented. I am gorgeous. I am black. I am fat. And sometimes I’m a bitch. At all times I’m a bad bitch.” Yes, Girl!! (Or should I say YYYYYAAAAASSSSS!?).  Have I ever told you guys how much I love and admire women with unbreakable confidence? No? Well, I do.Gabourey’s so open and honest about the work, past and present, she puts into ensuring her self confidence stays in tact. And I just happen to think navigating fame, twitter trolls, and Hollywood’s narrow minded standard of beauty, all while staying true and believing in yourself  is pretty badass. You, Gabourey Sidibe, are a badass!

I was baffled when Gabourey shared events of her first trip to her father’s beloved Senegal, humored when she shared with us she was once a phone sex operator, and proud when she said, “I still wanted the things on the pro list. But not all the things other people wanted for me like marriage and children, but the things I wanted for myself. Like an education and to move out of mom’s apartment. Independence.” And Ms. Badass figured out a way to get everything she wanted, sans marrying way too early and committing immigration fraud. She refused to settle. I salute Gabourey on being self aware and unwilling to go along with some cookie cutter life plan that didn’t speak to her heart.

Although I’m only on chapter 12, I’m convinced Gabourey Sidobe is my kind of girl. And I am officially a new admirer of her’s.  Eagerly waiting to dive back in, to learn a little more, and to most likely, laugh a whole lot.

Happy National Book Lovers Day to everyone! May this day bring you great reads and rich discussions. Enjoy!

Ya’ll Can Stop Hating on Tasha Now

It was hard for me to understand, initially, why so many people were so against Tasha. I found the THOT and home wrecker descriptions totally exaggerated and unfair. (Remember, she stepped back when Lawrence told her he had a girlfriend).  I simply saw her as a girl who wanted what all of us want…something real. And although the chances of having something real with Lawrence were slim, considering the foundation of their “situationship”, she was still hopeful. Was Tasha naive? Yes. Unrealistically optimistic? Absolutely! But a THOT though? Nah. She proceeded hastily, didn’t use her best judgement, ignored that little voice (intuition), focused more on what she wanted than what was obvious. Basically she was guilty of doing the same shit we’ve all done, are currently doing, or will do: trying to force something real with someone who is questionable.

Tasha wasn’t a THOT (in  my opinion) but she was a threat. She represented what most involved women fear: an alternative option. We want our men to have eyes, ears, and hearts for only us, not some boobies raised, teeny waisted, booty bangin, little bit hood ( I think this also contributed to the overwhelming contempt for Tasha–we can be so #blackandbougie at times) bank teller. For all of those who loathe Tasha, here’s some good news for you. She’s  most likely out of the equation. Why do you think that you ask? It’s simple, I answer. She told the truth. And most times when people have committed messed up acts and are not living the strongest and best version of their lives, the truth is the last thing they want to hear. They run from it and the truth tellers like the plague. Lawrence’s cowardly (couldn’t even tell her to her face) and sooner than expected yet still  A-Dollar Short- And-A-Day-Late admission deserved Tasha’s infamous response. Confession time: I hit the rewind button at least 3 times, enjoying every second of that exchange. I smirked and contemplated instances I could have delivered said lines. I’ve even repeated them aloud a few times, adding emphasis on one of my favorite words, just to hear the sound of each line rolling off my tongue. Ya’ll know the lines by now: “You a f**k n***a.  Naw.  You know what? You worse than a f**k  n***a. You a f**k n***a who thinks he’s a good dude .” Ouch!!! Unable to rebut all Lawrence could  do was  stand there looking all stupid and what not.

We can all learn a few things from Tasha’s short-lived and unfulfilling experience:

  1. “Honey, you are sacred land. Choose your travellers wisely.”- Della Hicks-Wilson
  2. Respect your intuition. If you know what’s up, act like you know what’s up. You can’t force someone to be real just because you want someone real.
  3. Your feelings matter. Speak. Your. Truth. Even if it means telling someone you think they’re really just a f**k n***a dressed in Good Guy clothing.

Really Lawrence?

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Shortly after opening credits we learned that Party Time Lawrence was still alive and well.  We see him and Tasha engaged in yet another on and poppin session. As he swiftly gets dressed, indicates he has to go, and informs Tasha Thursday wouldn’t be a good night for hanging out, I thought, I don’t really like the sound, feel, or look of this. Not wanting jump to conclusions though, trying to give my man Lawrence the benefit of the doubt (especially being that I proudly proclaimed to be a proud member of his team just last week) I encouraged myself to chill. (Chill Rhonda. Just chill).

But then his friend, during their little guy talk, confirmed my suspicions. Godammit! Lawrence on that bullshit right now. It’s not ok to use people to serve as entertainment, ego boosters, pick me ups, or charging stations when you’re whole everything–confidence, emotions, outlook on life–is on low. Women  are super emotional beings, nurturers by nature. We have a strong desire to make everything good in the lives of those we care about. And this is precisely why we have to proceed very cautiously and do everything in our power to avoid putting ourselves in certain situations and setting ourselves up for hurt and heartbreak (which I suspect Tasha may be doing). 

It’s not uncommon for people to find a rebound person to help them with their bounce back . And  shortly after obtaining everything needed, they bounce on said person, leaving naive, unsuspecting, high hopes person (in this case Tasha) high and dry, feeling all unworthy and under-valued while they go on with their life, living all carefree and happily ever and what not.

I was so hopeful for Tasha,  but Sunday’s episode has totally smothered said hopes. It could be too soon to tell but I doubt it. At best Lawrence may force himself to hang in there with Tasha a little while longer, enjoying all the sex she’s willing to share, applying as minimal effort as possible, avoiding So What Are We conversations as to not expose his truth and hurt her feelings (cause he know he wrong) and eventually feeling forced to tell her, “I’m sorry. I think we should just be friends.” And then asking a dumb ass question similar to this: Why are you so upset? I thought we were just having fun. Really Lawrence?  That’s what you thought we were doing (in my sarcastic voice)? The truth however would sound more like this: I was hurt, still trippin off old girl, knew you were interested and wouldn’t turn me down, I got you caught up in my whirlpool of emotions, I enjoyed every second of swagger redeeming sex had with you, plus your body’s bangin,  I gave no fucks about your feelings and how my selfishness would impact you in the long run.

Lawrence may even take the easy route and just fade to black on Tasha. Either way, I have a problem with him right now. It is not (I repeat…NOT) ok to use and play people for selfish gain. A guy may think it’s just fun and sex while the young lady he’s funnin and sexing is steadily falling in love. Feelings deserve to be treated delicately, respected, and regarded with the purest of intentions. In other words, don’t play with people’s freakin feelings and emotions man! This is  exactly how you lose cool points (MA-JOR deduction).

And I’m still trying to wrap my understanding around what happened at the end of Sunday night’s show. “Ma dude” you’re all over the place right now, creating unnecessary confusion and agony for all parties engaging with you. Having a seat (several seats) sounds ideal right about now. Retire that Party Time jersey for a second. You’re hurt, lost, broken, and consequently causing those involved with you hurt, loss, and brokenness.  Even I’m feeling hurt and confused and team LESS right now. Like dude, “what is you doing”? 

Note: I feel like Chuck, Shaq , Kenny, Ernie and all other NBA playoffs/finals commentators who flip flop team favorites every other night during playoff season,  depending on which team is playing the best. Lawrence, you are not playing the best right now. 

 

Until the next episode, one irritated black girl has officially signed off.

Team Lawrence

 

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As we’re all waiting with bated breath for Insecure Season 2 to kick off, I can’t help but recall how Lawrence played the hell out of all of us on that final episode of last season’s show. We thought he’d be sitting in their apartment, on that sofa, looking pitiful, awaiting to have a conversation with Issa about the relationship’s next steps. As Issa enters, we don’t see Lawrence on his favorite spot though. We assume, being that it’s super late, he must be resting. We anticipated the meeting between the two being a little awkward at first.  Issa would work her charm, offer sincere sounding apologies, and Lawrence, being the nice, non-confrontational, just happy to be here guy he is, would take and stomach the hard blow (infidelity) Issa dealt, in the name of Love. And I guess that would’ve been an OK ending. Nah! I’m lying. I would’ve been SO disappointed had the season ended in that manner. I was cheering for Lawrence like one cheers for their favorite Cavs’ player at a Golden State vs. Cavs game. When Issa enters the bare, Lawrence-less bedroom I was like Say. What. Now. Couldn’t help but sit up a little taller on my own sofa. What’s happening here? Then she pulls open the closet door only to learn it’s empty…AF (well he did leave his Best Buy polo shirt) and that’s precisely when a slight smirk crossed my face and Lawrence received the infamous I See You head nod from me.

Hating to see the too nice people of the world (TV world included) get the short end of the stick, I was geeked about Lawrence reclaiming his dignity and getting some of his swagger back. Of course, I’m aware he was unemployed (but receiving unemployment checks and had savings to fall back on thus not living off of Issa totally) far longer than desired, seemed to have lost a little bit of his confidence and ambition (temporarily), and totally threw some of his GQ out the window (lack of haircut, unshaven, unsightly lounge clothes). All things considered, I’m still a proud member of his team. He did not deserve what he was dealt.  I’ve always felt Lawrence was a good guy who could be trusted, counted on. Not perfect, but loyal. And his loyalty, despite all his other imperfections won him SO many points on my score card. Sending Miss Tasha away when she tried to holler gained him a point or two. Always having Issa’s back, supporting her professional endeavors, encouraging her, you know being a true friend, earned him points as well.  I think Issa’s cool and all. Don’t get me wrong. But she lost  lot of cool points along the way when she:

  1. Thought it would be entertaining to to make light of her best friend’s love (or lack there of) crisis. Molly pours her heart out to someone she feels she can trust. Issa abuses that trust, hops on stage and has the time of her life rapping about Molly’s “broken pussy” . How insensitive! With friends like that who needs enemies?  Girl. All. The. Way. Bye. (Deduction)
  2. Told Daniel he was just an itch she needed to scratch. Like wasn’t this guy supposed to be her “friend” at some point. I mean Daniel isn’t my favorite character but geesh , when she said that to him MY feelings were hurt. Insensitive. Cold. Heartless. (Deduction!)
  3. Smashed the homie on a recording studio floor because she was “bored” with her relationship.  Poor Lawrence was at home figuring out how to get the Broken Pussy video ( remember how humiliated Molly felt during Issa’s performance) off the internet because now, the video was causing Issa to feel humiliated as it threatened to tarnish her reputation. Karma is so hilarious sometimes. (Girl Bye. Again. Deduction)

Basically, I don’t feel Issa treats the people who care about her very well. Kinda takes them for granted, until it’s too late.  And this is why she comes up short on the Cool Points Scorecard for me.

Now, let me circle back to my recap so I can hurry up and tell ya’ll know who else I think is kinda cool. Recap continued: We think the show will end there, with Issa looking all pathetic while staring at the blue polo. But nah. Lawrence wasn’t finished with us yet. As if telling Issa he missed her, giving her the impression he wanted to talk, having her race back home at 1:00am-ish to a Lawrence-less abode, leaving his keys on the counter and his shirt in the closet wasn’t enough, we’re left with the image of Lawrence blowing Miss Lady’s back out (like AAAAAALLLLL THE WAY OOOUUUTTT). Where in the world was Party Time Lawrence hiding ALL that time? (Questions that need answers.)

And while we’re discussing Miss Lady from the bank, I must say I think she’s kinda cool. Many deemed her a THOT and a homewrecker. That confused me. She was interested in Lawrence, saw some things Issa stopped seeing in him, provided pep talks and confidence boosters, had no idea he was involved, and stepped off when he told her what was up. Where is the THOT????  Please let me know because I couldn’t find one.   To be honest, I’m actually hoping he gives her a chance. No disrespect to Issa or anything but something tells me Tasha may be good for Lawrence. I could be wrong. I could be right. One thing is for certain, I’ll definitely be tuned in this season to see the goings on. All the goings on (in my Bernie Mac voice).

Lastly, is it just me or is EVERYBODY planning and/or attending an Insecure Watch Party? Sunday’s about to be LIT. Happy watching and we’ll be talking!

 

 

 

 

Happy Naturaversary!

 

I still can’t believe it’s been an entire year since deciding to Big Chop! In all honesty, it wasn’t that much of a big chop being that I’ve always been a fan of short hair. Nonetheless, it was scary and thrilling at the same time. The initial plan was to refrain was relaxing, blow dry and flat iron my hair until I thought it was at a reasonable length for natural styling (I guess this was my attempt at avoiding stage TWA). And the plan was working like a charm! Until the DMV’s scorching summer heat made its debut. I then considered braids, but someone who shall remain nameless indicated not liking braids and “fake hair”. “Fine! I’m just going to cut it off then”, I remember blurting out. “Do what you want to do.”  And that was the end of it for about a week or so.

I remember wanting to wait until the summer program I was coordinating came to a close. You know, just in case I looked a hot ass mess. Kids (particularly MY students) can be brutally honest and the last thing you want after getting a hair cut you’re not particularly happy or confident with is to have to listen to little people talk your head off about said haircut.

The day of my big haircut I asked my hairdresser a gazillion questions as she chopped. I tend to be extremely talkative when I’m nervous. She was so patient with me. I sent pics to a few friends sharing a few steps of the process. They cheered me on, via text, as I anxiously awaited to see my “curls”. Oh…I even added color (burgundy) to the top my of my hair for a little extra spice. When I was finally swirled in the direction of the mirror, with most of the hair that was once on my head resting lifelessly on the surrounding floor, I almost cried. What. The. Fuck! It wasn’t what I expected. At all. I expected more length. I haven’t relaxed my hair in months! This is all the new growth I got? I expected juicy, lush 3A-ish curls.  But nah, my hair was doing something  totally different. “This is it!?  Where are the curls?”, I needed to know.  I felt as if I looked like a boy.  I sent one friend the final product. She took way too long to respond. Ahh shit! This was a bad idea. Should’ve just gotten braids! I was a nervous  wreck the entire ride home. This man already indicated not being in favor of this move and now look at me, looking all boyish.  Breathe Rhonda. Breathe. Why are always so impatient?! Just relax girl. Breathe.

When I arrived home no one was there. Yes! Thank you Lord for this much needed alone time so I can sit with my decision and, more importantly, play around with my hair a bit (what was left of it). I may have added a part on the side (or taken it away), added a little more water and gel, and started finger styling my teeny-TWA. Finally, it was starting to look like something.  Thank you Lord. Relief. I was no longer in panic mode. After putting on some earrings and red lip color, I really started to feel as if I had my swagger back. I can do this. I can totally ROCK this! I knew I was feeling myself because I posted up on The Gram.  Aye! When the guy I was with at the time saw my new do, he was not as impressed as the friends from IG and Facebook. “I hate it. Don’t ever do that to your hair again.”, if my memory serves me correctly, were his exact words. And I guess those words could’ve taken some of the wind out of my sails, but they didn’t.

I was a hair junkie at first. But not so much anymore. My go to’s now: Shea Butter and Amla & Olive Heavy Cream by Qhemet Biologics. I miss the wash and go days occasionally, where I’d load my hair up with gel and see something like curls, but I’m loving my present style and length. And I’ve recently learned I have way more love for dry twist outs than I do wet twist outs.  Don’t ask me what I’m going to do with the four tubs of gel hanging out underneath the bathroom sink. I’m not certain what else this journey has in store for me. Maybe color. Maybe not. For now, I’m loving my funky-short-hair-don’t-care cut , with the retro parts on the sides. I’m loving my thick, wooly texture. Loving the fact that I’m no longer allowing chemicals to sit on and burn my scalp. Loving the fact that I’m creating my own definition of beauty. “Well, this is how my hair grows out of my scalp”, I told him. In other words, this is me…naturally.

I honestly can’t remember a time feeling more confident, more empowered, and more liberated than while on this new hair journey.  I intend to bask in this territory a while. For a good while.

Happy One Year Naturaversary to me…

 

And Another One

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And another one, as in A-NO-THER relationship bites the dust. I couldn’t even play the I’m Just So Unlucky In Love, Maybe Someone Put A Halle Berry Curse On Me victim card either. Nope. Not this time. Instead, I was forced to be honest with myself. It’s funny (not really) how recycling similar experiences forces self-reflection and honesty. The hard truth is, although I go hard for whomever I’m rockin with, I sometimes kinda make fucked up choices when it comes to men. And that’s not to say that the men I’ve happened to fall for were total douchebags. They were, in fact, guys I enjoyed laughing and spending time with. Guys who’d buy me birthday gifts (but never flowers even though I really love flowers). Guys, who’d hang paintings, change the oil in my car, provide words of encouragement if I ever had work-place drama. Guys who met my family and introduced me to theirs’. They were guys who would look out for me.  They were also the kind of guys who’d become skittish when conversations about the future and our next steps arose. They were guys who preferred evading to communicating, withholding over sharing truths (I guess they just didn’t want to hurt my feelings which is ironic because they all ended up hurting…my fucking feelings). They were guys whose vision and values didn’t fully align with my vision and values. Guys, I’m certain loved me, liked me even, but guys who didn’t have the lenses needed to look at me and see magic. And that’s what made them, not bad guys, just fucked up, self-selected, selections for me.

This last guy was charming, sweet, survived a tough upbringing, goal oriented, and funny when he wasn’t being quiet or guarded. I so wanted to believe in him, to see only the good in him, to not hold past flaws against him. I also, if I’m being totally honest, wanted to scratch some shit off my to-do list:

1. Meet someone

2. Ditch Tinder

3. Get married in a couple of years

4. Move on to the next to-do item because I’m over all this trial and error, swipe left, swipe right nonsense

And that’s precisely where I fucked up. Trying to take shortcuts (like cohabitation), neglecting principles, making concessions, and overlooking clear signals all in the interest of hastiness. And although something told me this man may not have significant regard for the things I regarded significantly, I never suspected he’d cheat on me (total deal breaker).  But Life shall not be mocked. I paid for every neglected principle, every concession, and every shortcut. So as my friend tried to console me by saying, “You didn’t do anything wrong. This isn’t your fault”, I wasn’t willing to let myself off the hook so easily. Something (like intuition) told me, I don’t really see this ending the way you’re hoping it’ll end. But I ignored it and forged ahead because I was older. Felt I had something to prove. Needed to worry about other things on my to do list. (Another lesson learned: Time will not be mocked. I vow to never try to force or rush another thing in my life.)

Now, something I love (love, love, love) about myself is this, while I still haven’t mastered selecting guys who are more aligned with who I am as a woman and while I’m respecting (valuing) the process of investing more time and effort on the front end of the selection process, walking away and refusing to look back after a relationship has run its course (say being cheated on or strung along or just totally disrespected) is no obstacle for me. It’s easy like Sunday morning. I’m like Nina Learn To Leave The Table When Love Is No Longer Being Served Simone in that regard. But my love goal isn’t to be The Breakup Queen or The Boy Bye Girl my entire life. It’s to apply these vital lessons (that seem to be on repeat), set myself up to win in love someday, and form and foster a dope ass friendship with someone who looks at me and sees magic. I understand there are no guarantees and you can do everything right and still be thrown a curveball but I’m committed (for real , for real this time) to doing everything in my power not to recycle the same old, tired experiences.

NOTE: I’ve seen cohabitation work very well for some and not so well for others. However, my spirit told me it wasn’t a good move for ME at the time. We all have unique journeys. With that being said, follow your heart in doing what feels right for you. Just felt the need to share that.