Watch out for the Big Girls?!?!?

If you're familiar with any Baltimore Club music then you may have heard the infamous mix "watch out for the big girls" chanted over and over and over and over (you get the point) again. Go to any hoodrat club and you'd see a crew of thickish women backing it up and waving their hands proudly confirming their "big girl" status. That song was, and probably still is, the Big Girls' anthem in Baltimore and is also the reason why i wake up at 6am to knock out some cardio and strength training.

I cant recall ever having a problem with my weight. I was always a littler taller (5'7) and carried my weight well. Proportioned, with a hourglass figure, I had a normal BMI, toned muscle definition and thickness (thanks to hooking school and eating biscuits :giggle:). It wasn't until I had my son, that my weight reached : ahem: _60+ lbs. Okay, I was morbidly obese. Sue me. After I had my son, i dropped over 70-80 lbs in about 3 months thanks to a failed relationship and depression. Got my swagger back and then... lbs crept back on from health issues! That was fun. I was back in the 200's looking a fat ass mess and I was not happy with myself. I went out to a club with some of my homegirls and walked past these dudes that said "daaaammmm,watch out for the big girls". I looked at him but convinced myself that he wasn't talking to us. We weren't BIG- we were just thick. I was in denial and didn't realize how much weight I had gained until i saw a picture of myself last fall and I had to step back and ask "whoa, who the fuck is that?!?". I took myself off the meds late November and have been on the grind ever since... dropping a total of 57 +/- lbs.

Anyway, my homeboy and I was having a conversation a week or two ago about me working out to lose the extra lbs I had gained. He made a comment that almost set me off.

I think it's cool that you work out because most black women choose not to since its cool to be fat and all.

Come again?

My homeboy went on to make a point that women- black women in particular- were the most unhealthy creatures on the planet mainly because obesity had become socially acceptable. He blamed it on genetics, laziness and being a product of their environment going on to say that" if Ashley Stewart didn't make skinny clothes for fat broads, there wouldn't be any chicks over a size 14; they would adapt and make sure they had something to wear to work. Right or wrong, Khak? Folks done made it too easy to be obese."

:insert blank stare:

He further went on to say "there's exceptions like you, Khaki. Ya know, you had medical reasons and all but there are chicks that take that Monique shit too far- eating what they want and calling skinny bitches evil just so they feel better about that 6 wing and fry combo they're about to inhale. Just another reason why I will probably end up with Sui Lee or Becky. It's too expensive to marry a fat ass Laquisha!".

I wanted to choke him and call him a cunt but I couldn't. As much as I wanted to debate with him I couldn't. He was right- well, sort of. I don't think that it's easy being overweight and i don't think I was the exception. Shit, i remember being out of breath walking up the steps and going to 5011 stores just to find something that looked decent on a bigger me. I also remember not doing the 30 minutes of cardio that my doctor suggested I do. I cant speak for someone that has went through a lifetime of weight struggles but I can imagine that being laughed at, judged, ridiculed and stared at whenever you're at a restaurant does not make life easier.

Now, on the other hand... I thought about the women that I see on a daily basis- most overweight- most proud or pretending to be proud of their chunkiness. I thought about an episode I saw on Dr Phil discussing Anti/Pro Fat organizations. The Pro-Fat group were celebrating being overweight and while they didn't discourage exercise and healthy eating habits, they also didn't encourage it either. The Anti-Fat group, consisting of Jillian Micheal's and two unknown folks, went on to criticize the other side and had websites ridiculing overweight people. One guy was a personal trainer and used insults and military style training to get his clients in shape often yelling shit like "Go head and quit you fat slob!!!". I thought about the white women at my job that were all thin and went walking on lunch breaks and the black women that sent out early emails "Popeyes or KFC?".

Was he right? Is being unhealthy and overweight 'in" in the black community? I needed another opinion so I asked a close friend of mine and she responded:

Well, no one wants to be a fat ass Khak. It's like this- if you don't have the motivation to change or that's all you see, it's almost like you have to embrace it. You end up conforming and adapting to what you see and who you are. It's not "cool" -it just is what it is.


I understand all points from both my female friend and male friend. I have noticed that most, if not all, of my black female friends are either overweight, unhealthy or getting close to it. I understand that a lot of them are not happy about their weight but also make the choice to not do anything about it. There are few that encourage my new found healthy eating and exercise habits while others make negative comments such as "you're gonna start looking like a white girl" or roll their eyes at me counting calories. I am no way near skinny but I am pretty damn close to my ultimate goal and I take pride in knowing that I am extending my life by eating better and exercising.

What are your thoughts? Do you think that being overweight in the black community has become acceptable and celebrated?

thinking of putting before and after pics but... eh.

Aches

I fucking head aches. My mouth aches. My jaws ache (and not even for a good reason) and my spirit aches.

Last night, I came home, changed into my house clothes and began cooking just like every other night. While texting Crack, I finished up cooking a large pot of spaghetti with wheat noodles. Just like every other night, I grabbed two plastic containers out of my cabinet and filled them up with dinner for the same two people, Ms. Gloria and Shelton. Just like every night, I put the kid in the car and walked up one building to 3605, knocked on unit B. No answer. Knock again... Ms. Gloria's niece, Sharon opened the door, looking like she just had the best high she's ever had in her life.

Me: Hello, is Ms. Gloria around?
Her: No, she went to the hospital this morning.
Me: Oh, OK. Is she alright?
Her: I don't know. She was having a heart attack and the ambulamps [ambulance] took her to the hospital.
Me: OK- do you know what hospital she went to?
Her: No. Probably Good Samaritan or Union Memorial

She closes the door and I'm just standing there confused... shocked... hurt. I'm reminded of November 7th when my father passed away from a heart attack just a few blocks away from here. I remembered walking into Union Memorial almost 3 years ago knowing that I would have to identify my fathers body. Something told me that something wasnt right and I would never see Ms. Gloria again.

I made up my mind to check on her this morning after I came back from the dentist. After leaving the dentist with 2 less wisdom teeth, I stopped home to get my credit card and saw a few neighbors standing outside near 3605. One of the women called out to me. I can never remember her name i just always know her as the woman with no edges. I walk over and she tells me that Ms. Gloria died yesterday morning from a heart attack.

The rest of my body matched the numbness of my jaw as I walked back to my car and cried. I didn't know anything about this woman that I cooked for every night for the last month or so. I met her when my property manager and I was doing walk-throughs for the contractors. I had heard that an elderly woman lived in the basement unit of 3605 and didn't have any family to look out for her except for a niece who, apparently, had a very bad drug habit.

When she opened the door, she was wearing a long nightgown and had her grey hair pulled into a bun. We went to her kitchen to measure cabinets and she didn't have anything but a few canned vegetables and juice. From that day on, I always knocked on her door and gave her a plastic container of whatever I cooked that night. She always said "thank you, missy." as she handed me the cleaned container from the night before.

Today I found out more about the 72 year old woman who loved my baked fish and told me that adding Old Bay to my greens would make them taste better. I was told by another long-term resident that Ms. Gloria was a widow. Her husband and only child died in a car accident in 1974. She had one sister who passed in 1980. She was a college graduate, a teacher, she always paid her rent on time and had no known family other than her niece.

Even though i didn't know her that well, I still felt a connection to this woman. I know that she is in a better place with better company so the ache in my heart is gone. Now the two holes in the back of my mouth... that's another story.

Not Black Enough?

Long before American Express came up with the concept to give the rich another way to spend their millions, another Black Card existed. The Black Card. The card that validates your blackness. A card with high fees, low interest, extensive requirements and a lifetime contract without an option to trade or cancel.

Right next to an expired Macy's credit card and a business card for stripper lessons lies my laminated invisible Black Card. I'm a proud carrier but only by default because I've been told I'm not black enough. Not because I'm the shade of... hmmm a pair of khakis... but because I'm not Angela Davis or Malcolm X. Apparently, I do not exhibit the true strengths of an African American. I've been told that only a real Black woman would rock her hair natural with no perm or extensions. I can't be Black because I love me some 18 inch yaki's and I'm easily annoyed when my Mizani perm grows out and I see my naturally curly hair growing from my roots.

Stereotypes about my culture that I despise have somehow become requirements to be considered Black. The same racist stereotypes that "my people" hate to hear another race say are the same stereotypes that "my people" have embraced and hold as a system to rate ones blackness. Hypocrisy much?

Apparently, I haven't earned my blackness because I wasn't raised in the projects and I didn't go through the struggle that most of the Black community has went through. Here I am thinking that being Black was my first birthday gift and, apparently, it's something that you earn through passing some sort of Black Test. Had I known that my blackness would've been tested, I would've prepared better and studied. Had I known that my treasured Black Card was going to be revoked because I flunked the test and didnt pay my dues, I probably would've watched Roots a little earlier in my lifetime. I want to be a Certified Negro but I don't know the criteria and nobody told me this was going to be a Pop Quiz.

I love being a Black woman and I love my golden skin. It contains my culture, beliefs, morals, and the African blood running through my veins. My skin doesn't and shouldn't dictate what I should like, who I should like and what I should be in life. I don't have to explain my blackness to anyone. You can see in my face that I am a distant relative of a king. I don't have to wear "urban" clothing or know every rap song to be Black. I will listen to any fair skinned person I want to. I voted for Barack because he made sense not because he's half Black. BET sucks ass. I support interracial dating. I cant stand grape or orange soda. The Cosby show annoyed me at times but I love JJ, Florida, Thelma an' nem. Shit, I even say "an'nem" too.

How can I make myself more Black so I can keep my card? Can you be too Black? What is enough?

Confessional Monday

I was about 13 years old and was spending the entire summer with my cousin Dee. We were watching music videos and Hot Boyz "I need a Hot Girl"video came on with all the girls booty shaking and washing cars an' shit. Anyway, I went upstairs to get something out of her room and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and without thinking starting booty dancing in the mirror. You know the booty dance, right? Hand on knees and popping booty. So, I'm hiking up my shorts and dropping it likes its hot like I'm one of the girls in the video when i hear a familiar voice say while laughing"What the hell are you doing... looking hoochie as hell. Girl, Imma tell your mother". Then he called his girlfriend (my cousin/Dee's mom) and my aunt into the room to tell them about my impromptu performance.

My cousin's step dad was in the room laying down under the covers the WHOLE TIME and I hadn't even noticed that he was in there. It looked like a pile of clothes or blankets jumbled on the bed so I didn't pay it any attention. Needless to say, I was soooooo embarrassed that I just went downstairs and tried to avoid him for weeks. Of course, being the obnoxious asshole that he is, he made sure to make fun of me for the rest of the summer and tell all the neighborhood boys that came by to visit that i liked to dance. Did I mention that I hate him?

I don't think I ever told anyone that... *hangs head in shame*

True Shit.

The Day My Christmas Spirit Died....

Let me just start by saying I love all things Christmas... the decorations, the cheerfulness, the shopping, my son's face when he opens presents, and most of all the Christmas music (don't front like y'all don't sing "This Christmas"). However, Christmas hasn't been the same for me since Christmas of 2002.

Christmas was considered a big event in my house growing up. My mom was a T.V mom. She decorated the whole house with green garland and lights, cooked a big dinner and always bought trees bigger than our living room could hold. This particular Christmas was going to be bigger than the previous ones because my dad had received a large settlement and promised us a huge Christmas with a lot of presents.

For weeks, i had done all of the shopping because my parents were busy working late shifts and didn't have time for shopping. At 16, i was taking several buses and traveling to the malls to buy the presents that I knew my siblings and parents would want. After I'd come home, I'd go in my room and wrap the presents up in beautiful paper and ribbon and store them in my closet. There were so many gifts in my room that I couldn't close my closet door and had to hide them under my bed... Playstations, MP3 players, computers, movies, jewelry. You name it, I bought it. I wanted everybody happy when Christmas came.

The rest of this post was moved to ALL THE SHIT I WANT PRIVATE

"Thousands of babies die each year...

from ingesting baby oil" is what I read last night while doing a quick Internet search. I sat frozen as I tried to gather my thoughts to take my 15 month old son to the ER.

I got home after a long ass day at the plantation to Lurch telling me that my son had fluid coming from his butt.

Me: Fluid? What do you mean fluid?
Lurch: Like water or something mixed with shit or something...
Lurch's Mom: Are you sure it came from his butt?
Lurch: Yeah (uncertain tone)
Me: I'll check it out.

A couple hours go by and I'm cleaning up the kitchen and dining room area that looked like hell had ran through it and came across an empty baby oil bottle. This bottle was in my room almost full last night so I questioned why the hell it was empty. I text Lurch and ask what happened to the baby oil. Half an hour goes by and he calls and tell me that our son spilled it on the floor. I give him the side eye through the phone tell him I'd call him back.

After I feed my son, I take him upstairs for a bath and to change his pamper. I had notice him straining like he was trying to "push" something out so I assumed he was making a bowel movement. I go to change his pamper and see that his butt is covered in something greasy and the light bulb went off that my son, who eats whatever he picks up, had swallowed the baby oil. I see that my bed has some rather large oily stains on the sheets and i call Lurch back who tells me that he left Jay in my room to use the bathroom and when he came back he saw a puddle of oil on the floor. I ask if he checked to see if he swallowed any and he tells me "no".

Livid, I hang up the phone with him and do a quick google search to find out that many children each year die from ingesting baby oil. Apparently, if the oil is ingested and make it way to the child's lungs, it blocks the lungs from producing oxygen causing cardiac arrest. I couldn't contain myself as i called Lurch back and asked that he get to my house to take Jay to Urgent Care. My son was acting normal and couldn't understand why Mommy was crying and frantically searching for a health insurance card.

After spending time at Urgent Care and calling Poison Control, we were told that my son would be fine and it doesn't appear that the he inhaled the oil which could have resulted in death.

During my time dealing with this last night, I thought about what would have happened if I had lost my son. The thought was unbearable and I couldn't imagine waking up to not see my little angel laughing or saying "Mommy". My son is my everything and he is the reason that I push myself to be better and I cant "mess up" with him. He's my only shot at being a good mother as I am no longer able to have children anymore after a labor/delivery that went wrong and resulted in a hysterectomy.

All I can say is that I am blessed to have my son in my life and I am happy to say that he will be OK.

Why I Love ...

So-I just wrote that post about me losing my virginity and why i lost my virginity... etc and then I realized that i actually discovered why i love peen so much a little while back. I would call it an obsession but uhm... nah.

The rest of this post was moved to my other blog ALL THE SHIT I WANT PRIVATE 

Friends? How many of us have them!!??!?!

There’s a commonality amongst black women and that’s that we don’t effing get along. We don’t walk in the mall holding hands or kiss each other when we depart. None of that Paris Hilton and Nicole Ritchie shit. If we didn’t meet a woman at work, school or around the way, we aint friends. I meet a lot of women and they agree that they don’t and refuse to not deal with many women- for pretty much the same  reasons… attitudes.

I, for one, am one of those “I don’t fuck with bitches” typa women. Now, you all out there in virtual friendland are the shit but the truth of the matter is that women like you come far and between. There are a lot of grown up women that still act like children. There are a lot of grown ass women that get emotional, throw bitch fits, and will stab you in the back with no hesitation. I know women that will fuck her friend’s man in a heartbeat. For those and many other reasons, I keep my female friends list down to the bare minimum- 2 maybe 3.

I’m OK with the few female friends that I have and I love them to death. I treat them all the same and I respect them as though they are one of my sisters. We have great conversations and even if we don’t agree with one another, we respect each other and the choices that we make.

BUT, here’s the kicker, every once in a while, you’ll get tricked into thinking that you have a friend but, oh no, it’s just a bitch with a costume on. I can not deal with phoniness, sensitivity and emotions. Save that shit for your boyfriend.

I’m a guy with tits and a dress and this becomes a problem when you’re friends with a female. I don’t pick fights and I rarely discuss my feelings with a female. The women that I consider my sisters and real friends know this and that’s why we have a wonderful sisterhood… we have an understanding. There’s no trying to change one another. We accept each other for who they are. For instance, I’m a good friend… you need me for money- I’m there. You need me to kick someone ass- I’m down BUT I can be sarcastic… and my sense of humor may be a bit ignorant… but does that make me a bad friend? If it does, then fuck me; I’m just a bad friend and I can live with that. I can’t live with altering my identity to appease a bitch because she’s not happy with herself or has some sort of personality disorder. I get along with men because I act like a man… point blank.

When I sit back and wonder why I am able to get along with all of these wonderful women online but limit my friendships with women in real life, I come up with no real reason why. Maybe it’s the fact that you haven’t met me in person so you know that I’m being all me and you wont take things so personal???

I’ve factored in the attitudes, the neediness, the phoniness, periodic bouts of jealousy and all the other bullshit that comes along with being a BFF to a black woman and I’ve come to the conclusion that life is too short to be worrying about women that arent worth the worry. Fortunately for me, that’s just one less Christmas gift I have to buy.

So, let’s open this shit up for discussion. Women, do you have many female friends? Why or why not? What do you think about this?

Im Not Light Skin, Im Khaki

While perusing bloggerland and checking out the recent updates, I came across Greg's update about Red Bitches or African American women of a lighter complexion for those that are easily offended. Check it out here for his post.



Greg mentions that a Red Bitch (err light skin woman) can do no wrong in his book and goes on to challenge his readers to name an ugly lightskinned celebrity. For sake of proving a point, I said Tiny. Sorry but, as I said in the comments of his blog, Tiny looks like a badger in the face.

Moving on...

Now, I'm a lighter complected woman and I don't think that I'm superior or more attractive than the next woman and I find it hard to believe that people- yeah, not only men- still have this "light is right" mentality. I've actually heard someone say that they saw a lightskin woman that gave other lightskin women a bad name because of how "ugly" she was. What the fuck kinda bullshit is that? Do lightskin women automatically get some "shorty is the shit" card that I don't know about?

Is America still holding up brown paper bags to judge beauty? It's 2009 and we have a black president but we still have the mindset of our ancestors when it comes to color. Makes me wonder if we would've voted for Barack had he been of a darker complexion.

I digress-

There are still people that think that it's easier for me just because I'm light skin. Excuse me but the grass isn't always greener on the other side. I may get a lot of attention because I'm the typical LSLH chick but please believe that it isn't always positive attention. I've had dudes tell me that they've always wanted to get with a light skinned chick or they find my complexion so sexy. I tell them "Im not lightskin, Im Khaki" and delete them (yup- that's where Khaki came from ). I don't want someone to want me or think that I'm attractive strictly based off of my complexion and anyone that rolls down their windows and yell "Hey LightSkin" will get the ugliest glare my face can muster up.

Furthermore, I refuse to give a chick the stamp of beauty just because she's light skin. Hell no, wont do it! I've seen enough mud duck, flat foot, buck tooth, split end, nappy track, skin looking like Braille light skin creatures in my 23 years to detest that claim.

For every Beyonce there is a Chrisette Michelle. For every Halle Berry, there is a Gabrielle Union. Shit... Naomi Campbell is in her 40's and is still trumping the modeling game right now.

I have no problem with preference in who you want to date but claiming that all or most women that are "red" are beautiful is just impractical and further proves that ignorance is still alive and thriving in the black community.