Trader Joe’s, Knuck if You Buck, and the Dichotomy of My Crazy Life

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Yesterday was a weird day.

It was an awesome day, too. Let me explain.

I was cooking dinner at my place for my sisters and our friends, so I stopped by Trader Joe’s earlier in the day to pick up a few things that weren’t available at my normal grocery store– i.e., fancy cheese. Now, the Trader Joe’s nearest to me is in the part of town where a lot of “old money” lives. I don’t live among the old money, but I live in an area that is old money adjacent, if you will. So as I pulled into the parking lot and parked my car alongside the immaculate luxury vehicles, I couldn’t do anything but laugh. I felt so out of place with these people, yet there I was. Watching the people bustle around in the parking lot was like witnessing some extended performance art piece– handfuls of soccer moms skipped out of the store with their lululemon uniforms, rushed to their SUVs, loaded them up with reusable totes full of groceries, and bounced around the car to the front seat to drive off.I presume they were all going have lunch with their fellow old money associates as they drank wine at 10:00 AM and talked crap about so-and-so’s lame gala.

Still giggling to myself, I hopped out of my (non-luxury) SUV, grab my reusable totes from the back, and head into the store. I was proud of the “running errands” outfit I had pulled together, so I had some extra pep in my step. I thought to myself, “I am so cute and comfortable in my stretchy pants and chambard button-dow–OMG I HAVE ON THE SAME OUTFIT AS THIS WOMAN COMING TOWARD ME.” I stared at her in disbelief. Our shirts were even the same hue of light blue. We politely laughed as we passed each other, but my head was spinning. Right there in Trader Joe’s, I spiraled into a small identity crisis. Am I one of these old money chicks? After all, I am in Trader Joe’s on a week day with my reusable totes, standard SUV, wearing “the uniform”. But I couldn’t be one of them. I was missing a key requirement– I didn’t have old money (or new for that matter). So even worse– am I subconsciously trying to be like one of the old money ladies? I have always expressed a desire to become one of the “ladies who lunch”. I also am quite fond of morning cocktails and fancy restaurants.

The thought was still bugging me as I checked out and walked out into the parking lot.I distractedly threw my bags in my car and started my engine, just in time to hear the first few bars of Crime Mob’s “Knuck if You Buck” to blast in my speakers. Delighted, I automatically took my hand off of the steering wheel and proceeded to dance. There was no way I was moving until the song was over. I might have terrified some patrons walking past my car, but what else was I to do? I was left with no other options.

That blast from the past inspired me to play some other banger classics on my way home. As I drove smiling and dancing, I realized that I was not trying to be anything. I just have different facets to my personality, and I can’t be pinned down. I believe that we all do. And I will never be made to feel bad about that again– even if it’s self-inflicted.

I am a black, curvy woman. I am so proud to be those things. But they do not exclude me from being other things. I might be twerking in lululemon for all you know. But really it comes down to the fact that I have the right to be unapologetically everything that I am. Isn’t that beautiful? And guess what– you have that right, too. And if that confuses anyone, then they need to work through that, not you. Let’s be done with trying to fit into other peoples’ boxes. We owe it to the world to bring our authentic selves. That’s all we can be expected to do in this life we are given.

That, and dance to Crime Mob. Always dance to Crime Mob.

 

The Whys and the Why Nots

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I have this theory about life. I believe that everyone is either a “why” or a “why not” person. But I have a lot of theories that make sense in my head but leave other people scratching theirs, so allow me to explain.

Why people are very risk averse. They require it to be proven why something should be done before they take action or commit. Basically, they need the receipts up front. Why people are the kind of folks you want to take with you when you go car shopping. They will give that poor salesperson a workout, but you will not be purchasing anything unless a solid reason is provided and proven. It seems that why people’s main fear is making a mistake.

Why not people are more concerned with having regrets or missing opportunities. Their default is yes, so in a lot of cases, they must be talked out of doing something. At the end of their lives, why not people could look back at their time on earth and say “I did that!”

Of course, like anything, this concept isn’t black and white. I think everyone has a bit of both in them, but in my experience most people fall into one camp the majority of the time. For instance, I am a why not person, but I definitely have my why moments. I feel like people eventually find a good balance for themselves in order to navigate life. For why people, this means learning to stop living in the details all the time and let go more when it comes to little things. For the why nots, they hopefully learn that bigger decisions may require more deliberation and thought. But I do not think that either thought process is better than the other—in fact, both are necessary to keep life balanced and interesting. My why friends have talked me out of some bad moves (what—like you have never thought about professing your love to someone you had never talked to before??), and I have seen why nots convince their friends to push beyond their fear to take chances.

I think that’s the beauty of life—all of us grew up differently in different environments and with various personalities and ways of thinking, but we need each other to give our lives balance.

So what about you? Are you a why or a why not person?

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Halloween decision to dress up like a bunch of grapes because…why not?

The Color Purple, Sofia, and Skinny Women Microaggressions

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The first time I read The Color Purple by Alice Walker, I cried over Sofia’s story. For Celie, whose harrowing story is clearly the book’s focal point, I simply could not gather as much emotion. I commiserate with Sofia the most regarding her thick girl status. It just seemed that the people around her—especially the other women—reacted poorly to her general bad bitch aura. She had Harpo wrapped around her finger, but Celie and Squeak each launched microaggressions against her in order to attack her confidence. Some would say Celie sabotaged the relationship without knowing it because she was ignorant of what love from a man truly looked like. That could be true. Some would say Squeak was simply taking advantage of Sofia being gone, and that she reacted to a threat on her relationship once Sofia reappeared. That’s probably true, too. But the beauty of art is that you take it in and process it using the filter that is your experiences and your perspective. And my perspective is– those bitches were hating.

You see, people are funny. We all have insecurities and hang-ups that we allow to plague our lives and affect the way we treat others. Just like Celie and Squeak’s attempted sabotage of Sofia’s happiness, I have felt the same types of attacks against my love life that were based on me being curvylicious. And in all of those cases, those attacks have been launched by my thin friends.

So what I am calling out is that in my experience as a plus-size woman, I have experienced many microaggressions from my straight-sized sisters, particularly when it comes to dating. And the only reasoning I can come up with for this phenomenon is that thinner women are possibly taken aback, threatened by, or possibly even confused by my ability to attract men. I can’t even begin to analyze why this sentiment exists. Maybe it’s because by thriving and living well as a plus-sized woman, I have subconsciously launched an assault on a concept they have built their lives upon. Maybe it’s a dig to their egos….after all, if a thick girl can get more play than them, maybe they aren’t as cute as they thought? But there is a flaw in that thought process. Just because a woman is plus-sized, doesn’t mean she is any less attractive than anyone else. There cannot be any “attractiveness points” deducted off the top just because someone is curvy. Attractiveness is a matter of perception, right? So why place your self-worth on a concept that is subjective?

I am not saying that curvy women are more attractive than thin women. I am also not saying that curvy women get more attention than thin women. I just want to bring light to a dynamic that has been played out time and time again throughout my life. And I realize that by writing this, I risk sounding like a complete narcissist. Which if you know me, you know the last thing I ever do is tout my looks or beauty. I am a firm believer that you let other people tout about you and to shut up with all the self-serving talk. But in the interest of giving this concept some light and hopefully finding some common ground with my curvy sisters, I will proceed. **Cringing** Let the touting commence…

I’m cute, ok? Always have been. OK, not always. But I’ve had a good run for the past 5-7 years. I finally found what worked for me in the hair, makeup, and clothing departments. Which means, you too can be cute. It just takes trial and error. But that is a discussion for another time. What I’m saying is, people find my chubby ass attractive.  And that fact has shaken some of the thin women I know to the core. Not all of them, though—me being on baddie status couldn’t be more exciting for most of my straight-sized girlfriends. But I have compiled a list of microaggressions that have been relayed to me over the years by those who were a little less enthusiastic. Just because some were funny, some were sad, and some made me feel sorry for the person who was insecure enough to say it.

 

“You’re really pretty for a big girl. You keep yourself up.”  I’m glad you noticed. So did your man.

“So we both got a lot of attention tonight. Those three guys were interested in me, and you had two guys interested in you” Honey I don’t know where you went to school, but where I went, we learned to count. And I got four numbers. And why are you keeping count anyway? To be honest, I did not save any of those numbers. A sistah ain’t pressed.

“Aw, how cute!! Kristen got a guy!!!” Yes, girl. I got a guy. The only reason I don’t always have a guy (like you do) is that I’m choosing. And if it was up to your man, I would be choosing him.

“Light-skinned girls be getting extra points” This was said to my face. I am a fair-complexioned black woman. So….whatchu mean, boo? I’m only pulling because I have a fair complexion? Trust me on this—you’d be pulling too if you didn’t have the thirst of a thousand desserts. Tell me again about how you need a man?

“Since I lost weight, I’ve gotten so much more attention” That’s cute for you girl. I’ve never been skinny by any stretch, but I’ve been smaller and bigger than I am now. I received the same amount of attention at each weight. This probably says more about your security at each stage than how attractive you are.

 

I realize that on surface level, some of these microaggressions don’t seem weight- related. But oh, they are. Here’s the thing about microaggressions—the insult or slight is based upon a person’s marginalized status, but it does not have to be a direct reference to what makes that person marginalized. So it seems, by any means necessary, my aggressors felt the need to throw a jab in there to assert that they are better. Or made a sad attempt to take me down a peg if I get attention. Or, they tried to belittle my relationships or attractiveness by saying “Aw, how cute. Someone found her attractive despite her physical appearance.”

Keep in mind—I don’t ever make a big deal about the attention I might get because I don’t care. To be honest, I have bigger things to think about. In my circles, I’m actually known as the person who hardly ever has a boyfriend. So it makes the attempts to minimize my attractiveness seem even more desperate.

But let me tell say this—these women say these things because they are insecure. I came to realize a long time ago that as long as I am treating my body right, working toward mental clarity, exercising regularly, and feeding myself the good, whole, clean, food that I deserve, I am doing what I need to do. I have been able to move past this commentary and not allow it to affect me when it is spewed toward me.

No matter where you are in the struggle, do not internalize what anyone else says about you. It doesn’t matter if you are healthy and happy at a size 16 or working toward another goal. The attractiveness comes from the inside, and it reflects on the outside. And no matter what TV or social media or other people might tell you, if you have that confidence that radiates from the inside out, you will attract other people. It is a law of nature. You will be admired. You will have a glow.

I have a lot of plus-sized friends too. And I can’t get enough of going out with them. To be honest, when we go out, we get more attention. And we aren’t even trying! We’re just out having fun. And we meet so many people because we’re laughing and dancing and enjoying each other and ordering that extra round of drinks. But here’s the thing—if you go out into the world feeling good and looking good and wearing a dress that hits all those curves in all the right places, you’ll have to beat those guys off. I guarantee you that each one of us is beautiful and has the capacity to attract all of the good things in life.

As for those who seek to belittle who you are and what you can accomplish, there isn’t much to say to them. Until they find their own peace, they will continue to make attempts to wear us down. However, just like Sofia, we may have to fight. Not physically, of course, but we’ll have to fight the burdens that other people try to place on us. We’ll have to fight the negative words that may be spewed in our direction. We’ll have to fight the ignorance that births preconceived notions about how we are accepted in the world. If we have to fight for peace, so be it.

In the end, Sofia went through unthinkable trauma, but she came out on the other side with her peace. To this day, I still get these microaggressions hurled at me from time to time. Whatever action I decide to take to fight the ignorance, I am confident in myself and know my worth enough to recognize each slight for what it is. That is my peace. Hopefully our thinner sisters can begin to recognize and halt the microaggressions before they are even launched at us. Maybe that is a pipe dream. But until then, I’ll keep fighting.

Confidence despite all else. Isn’t that beautiful?

How My Brother Accidentally Shaped My Dating Life

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You never forget the moment you realize you’re not on the same level as the guy you’ve been dating. I’m not talking about being on the same level monetarily, but rather when it comes to your general desires and mentalities. I’m talking about dreams and futures. I’m talking about dating a guy who is happy with a part time job at the corner store when you have plans to take over the world. Do you see this often? Has this been you?

I can’t help but wonder why we women settle for relationships like this. How many women are stagnant in relationships, suffering through marriages, taking care of husbands, and rearing their children while their dreams die a slow, painful death? Quite a few by my count. Why do these women bind themselves to men who hold such vastly different visions for their lives? It would be easy to judge their decisions, but I have had brushes with this phenomenon in my own life. However, in my situation, I had an annoyed brother who eventually set me straight.

You see, I have extensive experience in a certain area that little sisters dream about and parents fight hard to prevent—crushes on the friends of the big brother. The friends of the big brother are a girls’ first introduction to men in their age group being welcomed into their family dynamic—much like the girls’ future boyfriends/husbands will be. This cultivates a dangerous breeding ground for obsessive levels of daydreaming and teenage angst, which I fell into with unbelievable ease. These “brother friends” bounce around the girls’ home, being charming to her mother, talking sports to her father, and flashing her a smile while they make themselves at home on the living room couch. It’s a recipe for heartbreak, romance, disaster, and sometimes even success. I lived it, and I lived it well.

When I was about 13 and my brother was 14, he had a friend who we will call Eric. Eric was and always will be my quintessential brother’s friend crush. I may have been lacking when it came to common sense, but I had good taste in the looks department—he was the most adorable young man. His smile gleamed every time he graced me with a grin, and he had so much charisma he could sell it by the bucket and still have some left over for himself. He was not my first brother’s friend crush, and he certainly wasn’t the last, but he consumed my thoughts for the bulk of my early teenage years. I woke up for him each day, and flashes of his handsome face lulled me to sleep each night. Luckily for me, he was a mainstay at my house for a period of time—he and my brother were in the midst of a quite concerning addiction to PlayStation, and sometimes I would sit and watch them play while I planned Eric’s and my wedding in my head.

And when Eric would interact with me, I would execute my sad, 8th grade attempt at flirting. The “flirting” revolved around me asking banal questions that I already knew the answer to. You see, I was quite the nerdy young woman. This was a trait that helped me breeze through my Advanced Placement classes with little to no effort. I finished off books faster than my parents could keep up getting new ones to me, so I mowed through all of the books in the house in the meantime. I was like a reading lawnmower. However, in my pathetic juvenile mind, this trait was preventing me from attracting guys. To be honest, I wasn’t wrong. It’s not like the cute guys on the step team were checking for the nerdy girl who squealed with delight when her chamber choir decided to sing her favorite Gregorian chant. So I actively hid that part of myself to be more attractive to Eric. I played so clueless in front of him that to this day I maintain that I might have lost a few real brain cells. I asked him how to play the game that I watched them play day in and day out for weeks. I acted like I needed help figuring out how anything worked—cars, computers, TVs, etc. I laughed at the simplest of his statements and agreed with all of his opinions. Eric was a smart guy, so it was not like it would have been necessary to dumb myself down to communicate with him. So why was I doing it?

I think I did it for the same reason women make themselves smaller to be with men in general. Women have a sort of tendency to mold themselves to fit a certain situation. It’s a wonderful coping mechanism when needed, but it tends to trip us up when we’re in situations where it’s not necessary, i.e., dating. And it takes on larger consequences when we get older. Sure, it’s silly to hide your geekiness as a 13-year old, but there are higher stakes when you’re a grown woman and straining to break free from a person who is holding you back from a higher calling.

But how did I “break free”? After all, I was to the point of nearly asking Eric to help me tie my shoes. I was on track to eventually wear him down over time with my girlish naiveté. The problem with my strategy was, there was a 3rd party who knew my capabilities, and he was not on board. Basically, I was irritating my brother to no end. He saw right through the act, and after weeks of my performance, he just couldn’t take it anymore. I remember the day he decided to read me in seven words. Not long after Eric left to go home, he asked me a simple yet resonating question– “Why are you acting like you’re dumb?” In his 14-year-old language, he left an impression on me that lasted. I don’t even remember my answer at the time—I’m sure it was along the lines of “Shut up!”—but my answer wasn’t important. The question was.

Unfortunately, male attention beat out all sensibility, and I continued the act well into my 20s with the men I encountered. But it developed from just simple cluelessness into a pattern that was much more dangerous. I minimized my knowledge, then my intelligence, then my goals, then my dreams. All to fit myself into a box to please the few men I dated. The turning point came when I broke up with a man that I had bent over backwards to please. We hung up the phone, and I immediately burst into tears. It was a spontaneous reaction. But then, while I was in the midst of crying, I realized something—I was forcing myself to cry over this man. I was reaching for tears that weren’t there. My future with him would have looked nothing like how I wanted my future to be. I would have been in a city I didn’t like, with kids I didn’t want, and a husband who didn’t stimulate me.  The reality was that I stunted my own growth just to be with a guy who was decent, but who could never fulfill me. Now that was worth some tears. So after that realization, I let myself cry for the parts of me I had suppressed for years. I cried for the time I lost and the energy I exerted trying to be this man’s woman. And the words of my brother, the words that never left me, popped back into my head. “Why are you acting like you’re dumb?” Or now, as the issue evolved with me into adulthood, “Why are you playing small?”

As many women do, I still struggle with “playing small”. However, a good way to change is to start choosing better. As a friend once told me, “You don’t have to like every man who likes you!!” As the fat nerdy girl growing up, this concept was difficult to grasp. Only a few men liked me, so I had to like them back, right?

Luckily, the answer is “no.” Like a lot of things in life, the energy of attraction is circular. You attract people based on what you exert, and if you are exerting timidity, smallness, and lack of confidence, you will attract a man who desires a woman like that to fit his mold. It is imperative that you stop the cycle and decide not to accept anything less than the best for your life. Once your mind is made up, it becomes so easy reject those people who don’t line up with your vision. You’re in control. You do the choosing.

Shout out to my big brother. He’s always looking out for me, even when it’s on accident. It’s a beautiful thing. And ladies, remember to choose wisely and protect your magnificent dreams. Your life depends on it.

What it Takes to Be a Baddie

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I am a feminist and all of those good things. And if there is one thing I love, it’s a bad bitch.

Pardon my language, but there just isn’t another way to say what I mean and invoke the image that needs to be invoked.

So imagine my delight when, while browsing portraits in the breathtaking Philadelphia Museum of Art, I came across the baddie in this post. The piece, Arrangement in Black (The Lady in the Yellow Buskin) (c.1883), by James Abbott McNeill Whistler, spoke to me so loudly that I stopped in my tracks. Her stance, her stare, her impeccable wardrobe. She is a baddie who transcends time and space.

Lady Archibald Campbell is her name, and I couldn’t find much information on her as I hurriedly googled her name in the cab on the way back to the hotel. That’s the way it should be. Now we’re left to our imaginations to dream of how fabulous this woman was, and our only cues are descriptors from her contemporaries like “beautiful, bewitching, and eccentric.” A baddie has to have some mystery behind her. It’s always more fun when you can let your imagination go wild.

A baddie also has to ignore the naysayers. In the museum, the information placard next to the artwork stated that Lady Campbell’s family did not like the beautiful painting, claiming it brought forth imagery of a streetwalker. Lesson: Basic people always want to hold you back when you’re ahead of your time. Lady Campbell was clearly feeling herself in this photo, and that’s what makes it so beautiful. It felt like her confidence leapt off of the painting and imprinted my very spirit when I saw this. How could someone be mad at that? Someone who has made the decision to be mad in general, that’s who. Someone who is intimidated by freedom and confidence.

If Lady Campbell would have been scared into not posing for the painting, I wouldn’t have seen this portrait some 133 years later and been inspired to tap into my inner baddie. So let this be a lesson to all of us– keep your head up and keep on breaking barriers. You have no time nor right to be scared– you have work to do. How dare you try to get in the way of greatness. You are an inspiration by just boldly being yourself in a world that tells you who you should be. So put on your baddest outfit, pose like the bad bitch that you are, and give ’em a look that will make the generations after you stop in their tracks and stare.

If No, Then What

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I am a Microsoft  excel nerd. Give me some data and the opportunity to start writing formulas, and I am in hog heaven. It’s really sad.

One of the formulas that is used often is the If/Then formula. If/Then is a common concept in formula-writing and programming– it simply means If a statement is true, then the formula returns a certain value. If it is not true, you can set whatever you want as the return value. One day I was writing an If/Then statement, and I commanded the formula to return a certain number if the a formula was true, and then I paused. My visceral reaction was to just leave a blank if the formula was not true, but that was boring. I smiled to myself as I placed a “(:” in the return value. Whoever worked on that spreadsheet next would either laugh or think I had a lot of time on my hands, but at least it made me smile.

When I made the choice to add whatever I wanted for the “not true” factor, I think my If/Then revelation began to permeate my thinking. When we are faced with something in life that does not work out how it should or how we expect, of course we tend to be upset. It’s understandable. We know exactly what we’re going to do do when we get that “yes”. We have a plan, path, location, idea, that we have predetermined to follow through with once we get the answer we expect.

But I believe that beauty lies in the moments where we don’t get the answer we expect. When you get a “no”, or if the answer you expected and wished for evades you, take heart. Life happens in the unknown. If you get what you were hoping for, it’s a wonderful thing, but that renders your options down to one. Not getting what you were expecting opens up every other possibility that life could offer. Isn’t that exciting?

If no, then what? Anything.

Sunday Nights in the Pit of Despair

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Monday.

Monday is the compilation of everything I hate in life. Waking up early, being at work, being at work with 4+ days left before another break, mundane coworker weekend talk, people setting up meetings, working on issues that you left hanging when you were in the euphoria of the end of the day on Friday…the list doesn’t end.

The only thing worse than Mondays are Sunday nights. The anxiety of dealing with the upcoming week takes over all mental and physical functions, yet I still have to work up the energy to prepare to go somewhere I don’t want to be at all. It’s cruel, is what it is.

So what’s a girl to do? I have to make a living. And as hard as I’ve prayed for them to stop, these bills keep coming in like clockwork.

I feel like sometimes we have to find ways to maintain our sanity in life until we’re able to break through to the next level. While we’re in the maintaining mode, I believe maximizing joy is of the utmost importance. I purposefully do a lot of fun things for myself on Sunday night. I save up DVRs of my favorite shows for Sunday. I allow myself to stay up as late as I want. I blast my favorite songs while I pack lunch or do laundry. I take a long soak in my bathtub while singing karaoke, and I make sure my apartment is completely clean before Sunday so I can really enjoy the day with minimal work. I spray my sheets with lavender to soothe my senses.I can’t change the fact that my alarm will be going off at 5:15 AM, but I can make every minute up until that moment special.

And there lies the lesson. Something may be ultimately out of your control, but if you keep picking at it, you will find some aspect of it that you can impact. Hold on to that aspect for dear life and make it your own. Make it beautiful.

 

 

 

 

 

About this blog

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I am a woman who seeks beauty at all costs. I am single, I am in corporate America, I am curvy, I am a black woman. I am analytical, I am strategic, I am quiet, I  am a chatterbox, I am serious and I am silly. I am uptight at times, and I am funny.

It took me a long time to see it, but I realized that I am also beautiful, and every element of me is beautiful in and of itself. I will be writing about finding the beauty in all of the elements of my life– whether it be through humor, introspection,or honesty. I plan to study the beauty that keeps me alive and vibrant and chasing possibilities.