That's What We Do

There are somethings that are given to you, somethings you get from experiences, and somethings you are born with, either way, at some point, you realize it. At the point of discovery, you decide what to do with your gift or curse. Well on Saturday, February 20, 2016 I decided what to do with my gift.

I decided to wear it. I don't know how it came to me if I were born with it or if it was given to me and I don't care, I embrace my confidence. I know who I am and Who I belong to. And because I know this, I decided to press the reset button. I cut all of my hair off and started from scratch. I did it out of necessity. I did it out of care.

I needed to do something radical. BB....that's what I named her, my confidence. BB is short for Bad Bitch. BB was scratching at the walls of my soul pleading to be seen. Often she is kept behind the scenes and obscured from public viewing until prompted or warranted. ENOUGH! It was time. It was time to parade her extravagance, I obeyed. 

I had help though, Little Miss and Chocolate Drop, every chance they got, would remind me what I taught them about confidence and wondered what was I doing with mine. I had to take their concerns seriously because both are very strong and take their confidence with such conviction. That's what I taught them, that's what they know. Scared, toiling, craving, hesitantly but willingly, I did obey. I'm so glad I did! People try to assess why I cut my hair. I can see how they try to compute having long thick flowy, full luxuriousness to...well...NOT, which is  amusing to me.

Although I haven't had a single bad comment, I really don't give a damn what people think! I'm liberated! I'm confident. In the words of a wise ALL NATURAL beautiful strong queen...and I quote, "Natural hair don't care on they funky ass!" But if they really want to know, and they do ask, per Psalm 139:13-14 my reply goes like this...."Because that's what Bad Bitches do."

Smoke & Shit

I just returned from an awesome lunch I had with 2 great friends of mine. Anyone who knows me know I love, love, loooooveee to eat. When I cook, I usually eat in moderation. When I go out to eat, I act a ass. My thinking...why should this time be any different? Needless to say on the ride back to work I felt all the repercussions and consequences of the meal and then I realized something that made me hoot in laughter.

I realized that I'm getting old! I looked at my friend and said... "I'm ready for a good shit....and a cigarette." Just like that.

I remember when I was a little girl seeing my mom in that pink wall, wood framed bathroom sitting on a throne with such delight. She had long red oblong shaped nails pinching the butt of a seemingly extra long Virgina Slim and with every kiss of that butt came a look of pure satisfaction. It was like whatever she had on her plate going on in her life at the time, literally she dropped it in the toilet and flushed it. She valued her "Me Time". It showed on her face.

Funny how I remember those moments. Now that I am her, I understand completely what "Me Time" means and the pure disdain and aggravation that comes with being interrupted with somebody wanting or needing something that apparently, just can't wait 10 more fucking minutes!!!

Seems as though my mother wasn't alone and neither am I because when I declared my need for "Me Time", my friends shot me a look of gratefulness and understanding and they concurred, to them what sounded like a great idea. That's some old people shit right there.