Say Word pt. 2 A Quickie

So, I just had an interesting conversation with a white colleague, Liza, who is heftily endowed in the booty area. Naturally too.

If y'all saw Liza's donk, y'all would SWEAR she wasn't of European descent. But she is. Liza is White White, Russian-Jewish + Italian and she truly has one of the nicest lady lumps I've ever seen, and I've seen LOTS of booties. #nohoish.

Apparently, this weekend, she was trying on pants and found a pair that hugged her bootay nicely, but cut into her love grotto in a way she was uncomfortable with and that would surely demand monostat after a few wears. A friend of hers, with a lesser hiney, tried on the same pants and they fit her far more comfortably.

When Liza stepped out of the dressing room and compared the fit of her pants to the fit of her friend's pants, the male sales clerk exclaimed,

"Honey, that's 'cause you have a big *ss."

Liza was clearly taken aback. Noticing this, the salesclerk amended his statement.

"I meant you have a delicious *ss."

Liza didn't know how to take it.

"What the f*%k was that supposed to mean? he was going to slather my *ss up and eat it?"

Tee hee....

She knew he meant it as a compliment, but even for it to have come from one of the children, is that really what's good nowadays?

He wasn't flirting. He wasn't trying to make an innuendo. He was, in his mind paying her a compliment. The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

This isn't the first time she's told me that her Bonita Applebum has gotten inappropriate attention especially within the last few years. What's going on in the world? Whatever happened to men leering inappropriately and leaving the lewd comments to the construction workers?

Sidebar: Did you know that people call White Girls with booties Whooties? I had no idea! what do you call a Black Girl with a booty? A Black girl? Hmmmm.....

SMOOCHES!!!!

SHINE ON!!!!!

How to Bounce When Sprung

Dear Lauren,

I am involved with a dude who I should probably cut loose. He's dreadfully inconsistent, terribly inconsiderate, completely self centered, and horribly inattentive....outside the bedroom. But honey, when we get our "bedroom boogie on," as you put it....well, let's just say it makes it really, really hard for me to stay away and stay mad at him. He's the most amazing and attentive lover I've ever had. I think I love him, but I'm not totally sure if I love him or how good he makes me feel, in bed. He's not mean, he's not malicious, he's just kinda all over the place. What should I do?

-Suzie Sprung

Damn Suzie! It's like that?  

(Ok, while I write my answer to this one I'm going to have to listen to some Trina or Nicki Minaj to get my head right on some pimp ish....)
Well.
In many ways you should feel fortunate to have found that dude that keeps you walking around singing Drake's Anthem.

Awww, you prolly even have that as your ringtone for him, don't you? Not hating, I'm just saying, ummm...

Being sprung is a dangerous thing. You're likely to start doing things you wouldn't ordinarily do, this could be a good thing. Insert smiley face. If you're a sexually adventurous  type of girl, the two of you can have BIG FUN . Or you may find yourself making decisions you wouldn't ordinarily make.

Speaking of which,
I once gave a pedicure to a piece's MOTHER and her feet were a WRECK! 

Ole girl's feet look like they were the progeny of Denzel's feet in Glory & Joe Morton's feet in Brother from Another Planet. 

You know your girl was open offa that piece to get caught making that old broad's feet look presentable. But he was taaaaallllll, (I told y'all I like to climb trees,) dark as blackberries & just as sweet!!! Whooeeee!!! I wonder if his foreign ass is still single...heeey booo! No wait, it was girth, (physical not peen) and not his actual stroke that was dope...ugh nevermind.  Anyway, I digress....

The long and short of it is that being sprung is a whole lot like an addiction. You just have to decide how addicted you are. If your addiction, much like his attentiveness is limited to the boudoir, then you should be a big girl, recognize & accept the situation for what it is & enjoy your bedrocking. So long as you're taking care of your health and his (sidebar: did you know CA doesn't make porn studios force their performers to wear condoms? Whoa! Stay classy Cali porn!) then there's absolutely nothing wrong w/having a grown up-intimates only relationship. 

If you can handle it, and quite frankly those of us born with wombs have a tough time doing this for long. Keep him around so u don't attack your other dates. Get it beat up like a house track on Jersey Shore then you can build w/your dates instead of worrying abt what their Oh Face looks like.

 

Keep your feelings in check and don't create unrealistic expectations of old boy. You can't do a damn thing to change him. He has to wanna do that for himself. Hell, if I knew the secret to making a dude submit to my will, I wouldn't be singing Ursher to 1st husband....HURRY UP & SIGN ALREADY!!! #imjustsayin

Now, if you find yourself on some rabbit boiling moves, you prolly need to leave old boy alone and get you some tofu peen. I've heard rave reviews about the Hitachi Magic Wand. It comes (parumpum) highly recommended.

SMOOCHES!!!
SHINE ON!!!

WORD??!?!?

I'm cursed.

My lack of desire or interest in a committed relationship makes me much easier for guys to talk to and be open with me. I've always had guys who legitimately were my friends, not my FRIENDS, that keep me around like a big sister consigliere to advise them on all things chick. Sometimes these were not friends that were originally mine. They, much like me, overshare details of their lives and personal interactions that I could DEFINITELY do without.

It is in due to the level of comfort I feel with them that I'm so at ease talking to other guys. My ease puts them at ease and away we go with open and frank exchanges.

Life becomes much easier when people talk about things. Being open & honest w/the opposite gender is veddy nice.

There's just one teenincy lil' problem with what most would consider a blessing. Guys feeling like they can say anything to you means that guys will SAY ANYTHING to you.

From an emotional or philosophical standpoint this can be really complimentary and pretty flipping awesome. You get to know how he honestly feels about something, it eliminates a lot of the guessing game.

From a realistic standpoint that trait ranges from a little gross to outright f*%king disrespectful.

Want you to wrap your legs around my head like the crown you are....

You have the perfect lips for sucking d*%k.... (told to me @ age 12 by a 14 year old)

Don't worry boo....I'm cool on pussy....

You have amazing tits...

You look like you might have some luggage in your trunk....

Crazy thing is, some heads actually think sexually referencing articles of my anatomy in regular conversation is complimentary. DENIED.

Some are such megalomaniacs that they feel like the offer to sleep with them is a great prize that they're bestowing upon me. Having rocked w/a few of them I'm gonna have to say DENIED again.

Find something else to compliment or talk about like, oh I don't know, my passion for making art w/young people, my knowledge of 90's HipHop, my writing, my skills w/a stove...

LEARNED things that make me the unique and fun gal y'all wanna be around. & if it's not me you're saying crass sh*t to, insert his/her valuable character traits in the blanks, shake & repeat.

I'm fatigued. Doing too much these days, but I like it. Party on Garth.

SHINE ON!!!!!!
SMOOCHES!!!!

Exploitative words.... exploitative pictures... Enjoy!

Note from the Editor:

As some of our male readers, ahem, our STRAIGHT male readers, feel that the nekkid mens distract/prevent them from wanting to leave comments, after today, we will no longer feature the MAKE BLACK HISTORY MONTH E'RYDAY BEEFCAKES in the daily written post. INSTEAD we will offer either a link or a separate post for y'all to get your daily dose of hunk. We aim to please on THE LAUREN SHOW!

All black e'rything

February always makes me feel some sorta way.

As I am one of the people who goes through life believing that there is an abundance of love rather than a shortage of it, I long for February to come because it always seems to be the one time of year in which everyone else in the world starts to feel that way too.

Until this whole eff Valentine's Day movement started and the embittered and hateful began to take over the world with their snarky cynicism.

I also yearn for the second month of the year because it marks the end of all the winter holidays and in some small way brings us closer to the end of Winter.

I do not enjoy it being BLACK HISTORY MONTH.

People always try to come for my race card when I say this.

The commercials with the negro spirituals playing under the Kente splashed black and photo montages of slaves rising to play in the NBA or perform onstage. I can't.

The other night, I was watching RuPaul's DragRace on LOGO while the BET Honors was on and made the mistake of tweeting something about the fabulosity that was the Dragons on LOGO. Do you know how many people tried to come for me for not watching the BET Honors on the first day of Black History Month? sukyoursourmomma.

So all of a sudden, just 'cause it's Black History Month I'm supposed to forget about how every other month out of the year BET is the devil?

Black History Month is the commemorative holiday version of segregation; instead of celebrating the accomplishments, history, and arts of African Americans YEAR ROUND it gets relegated to a separate and definitely unequal month. I don't know about y'all, but to me, that sh*t is type wack.

I grew up in DC, aka Chocolate City, with two Black professional parents, one of whom was/is a civil rights activist, and went to an HBCU "Spelman thy name we praise." For my brothers and I, knowing that Black people did good and important stuff wasn't news, it was fact that was ingrained in our minds from a young age.

Hell, once for International Day Lil'Bro had to dress up as a character from his country of origin. This was a looooong time ago mind you, but I recall some implication made by either his teacher or classmate that he was to come dressed up as a slave. Or maybe that was just the discussion we had at home...I told y'all this was an eternity ago. With my parent's help, he chose to dress up like one of the Buffalo Soldiers.

I grew up knowing that I came from a valuable and precious culture and that bolstered my confidence a great deal YEARLONG. Which is part of the reason I have spearheaded the Make Black History Month E'ryday Beefcake campaign. We need to celebrate beauty in blackness e'ryday, even if it is slightly exploitative....It's all in good fun! I love being a Woman of Color EVERYDAY, even if some of my HU homegirls give me sh*t for using that term instead of saying Black Woman. :)

This being said, why isn't being colored and original enough for us?

It seems that in spite of the rich and diverse artistic history we possess, the talent that abounds, lately, my people lack creativity. Why is it far too often we have to be the "Black version" of something else? The results are often disastrous. Pulling a reverse Elvis is doesn't equal retributions and reparations. It reduces a colorful vivrant (#notypo) and creative people into lackluster biters.

Why can't we just be our creative selves and be fly with that?

Why don't we just make something good?

What brought about this tangential line of thought you ask? I'll share...

So I was looking for photos of a sweatshop for set design w/my babies for the WIZ, a perfect example of the Black version of something albeit a good Black version of it, and through my extensive research I stumbled upon this article.

Why do we always have to have the Black answer to e'rything?

To each blogger his or her own, but seriously, just 'cause Entertainment Weekly put out a list that celebrated what they thought were the great heroes and villains of all time, we have to have a list of the Black Villains? Where is the Black Hero list? Isn't it a good thing that we don't have as many Black Villains?

Meeooowww! She's not bad, she's just drawn that way.

While I understand that if we were to have more films, more books, more television shows more e'rything then we'd have more to choose from for such lists and it may not strike up as much ire as only highlighting the bad. As people of color, ALL PEOPLE OF COLOR, are still trying to get a secure toehold in American media, it seems to me like we're belittling our abilities by using the art of the master to imitate him and gain his appreciation.

We can have our own without having to take someone else's.

I'm not so naive that I think there aren't still racial inequalities in our world, hell my co-workers STAY asking me when Kwanzaa is, but the playing field doesn't get leveled, it gets skewed and by trying to imitate badly, the mimics accentuate the disparities. Hello? Who's Your Caddy? The Honeymooners? Soul Plane? Ok...I can't PROVE that Soul Plane was imitating the Airplane movies, but umm....yeah....

So, next time you're getting ready to pitch your very exciting and NEW arts idea to someone please just make sure it really is a new and exciting idea and not just someone else's idea done up in Blackface.

SMOOCHES!!!!

SHINE ON!!!!

Today's Make Black History Month E'ryday is brought to you by the letter "W" for Wil you or won't you enjoy this delightfulness...the stocking cap is DENIED though...

Say my name, say my name...

What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.

-Shakespeare

While I'm not an advocate for labels, categories is a concept I whole heartedly can dig. Something you probably don't know about me: I am meticulously organized. I pretty much sort anything. If you read my post about friends and crying trannies, you may have noticed all the various categories in which I place friends.

You may not love your friends with the same instensity or passion you love a date/partner/boo, but yet you're probably more open with the homies than you are with the boo. Relationships should not be structured by what you call them.

I use "honey" often....The term of endearment you naughty viewer not the substance! Shame on you! ;)

Maybe it's just me, but after having had a husband, isn't it anti-climatic to have a boyfriend?

I know I often refer to the fellas as boys, but I don't date boys. No Mary Kay LeTourneau here.

Eew. The thought of this turns my stomach.....CONSTANTLY

Now that I'm officially grown, saying boyfriend doesn't feel rejuvenating.

It doesn't feel sweet & refreshing.

It feels f*%king stupid to say.

Maybe that's why I don't have one. Insert Lil'Momma sad face here.

As I don't have any immediate prospects, I probably shouldn't worry about what term I am going to call him. I was just sitting here on public transportation, as I often am, trying not to make eye contact with the crazies. But when I finally do, assuming that I do, what shall I call him? The possibilities are endless!

Terms of endearment are more important than most people credit. I grew up in a house where I was called La Reina, the Queen, my lil' brother was El Rey, the King, and baby brother was always Mi Cielito, my little heaven. It's hard to grow up with low self esteem when these have become synonymous with your name your whole life. Knowing this, how can I use a throwaway or common term for someone who should be so unique to me?

Once while we were on a "break" one of my favorite exes (a dyed to the wool MANCHILD and supremely talented artist)and I had an obligatory family function (his, my family doesn't do forced interaction which may be why we're as much fun as we are) to attend.

He won me over, again, that night by introducing me to some distant relative as his future. Sweet, but in hindsight, I realized that the future was when he would grow up and possibly be what I needed. The present, notsomuch.

Assuming I'm blessed enough to have another intimate longterm relationship before I throw my hands up in exacerbation move in grow old with @candice202, (kinda like Beaches except we both get to live and be as fabulous as Cece) our dogs and our gheis, what will I call him?

My happily ever after seems too daunting.
My boo seems hood & juvenile.

My honeydew ("Honey do this, and honey do that...") Seems like I'm regulating on him. Shut up Candy!
Mi corazon or Mon cheri sound sweet, but also sound more like what he should call me.
Lover has a nice purr, but won't go over well at work functions.

Hmmm.....

I'm curious, what do you call the Apple of Your Eye?

SMOOCHES!!!
SHINE ON!!!!!

Today's Make Black History E'ryday Beefcake really is ONLY for Mommy. She said DENIED to body boys AND men w/Tats...Enjoy!

Higher Education 1

I believe in segregation.

Take it easy.

Don't head straight to my comments section just cause I said what I said and it's day 2 of Black History Month. I'm not talking about racial segregation paisan.

I'm talking gender segregation...academically, at least for some subjects in school.

When I'm not online delighting the masses w/my witty repartee, snarky twitter comments, or working on the next great American bestseller, I earn my bread & butter molding America's future. Yup, that's right boys & girls, I'm a teacher. I'm actually a pretty damn good teacher at that, according to my administration and the parents of alumns who reach out to me to thank me for helping their babies through school.

It's kind of funny, to those who've known me forever that I teach 'cause I wasn't a model student. I did really well in some subjects, (english, foreign language, social studies, the arts) but in others (math & science) I pretty much sucked. I don't know what it was about those subjects, all levels of math chemistry and biology, that caused me such grief. There was something about them that made me feel as though I could never excel in them. Little did I know it had less to do with me, and more to do with how the material was being presented to me.

Having been in school for most of my life (I'm one of those people Kanye talks about whose degrees have degrees) I've been blessed to encounter a plethora of different teaching styles some that complimented my learning and others that clashed with it. While in pursuit of my most recent degree and the happiness I was sure it would bring my Daddy, I stumbled on an article in Newsweek by Peg Tyre titled The Trouble With Boys which she has since spun into an entire book.

Ms. Tyre states that one of the unfortunate byproducts of the feminist movement is that schools modified their learning environments to better suit female students. In doing so, these schools have scrapped classroom models in which male students are more likely to excel. (Hmmm...why can't we ever make things better for one group without making it horrid for another?) Many of our schools are failing as a result of this restructuring because:

• Boys need a competitive and confrontational learning environment, while girls can only succeed if they work cooperatively and are not placed under stress;

• When establishing authority, teachers should not smile at boys because boys are biologically programmed to read this as a sign of weakness;

• Girls should not have time limits on tests because, unlike boys, girls' brains cannot function well under these conditions; and

• Boys are better than girls in math because boys' bodies receive daily surges of testosterone, whereas girls don't understand mathematical theory very well except for a few days a month when their estrogen is surging

After further research, I learned that these changes could also be sighted as the cause for the higher incidents of discipline problems, more frequent special education classifications for males and schools implementing zero tolerance policies.

There's nothing wrong with the boys, they're not being taught in a way that matches how they learn so they act out or give up.

The opponents to gender segregated education claim that the classroom issues would be better resolved with tools like smaller rooms and more experienced pedagogues in the classroom.

They lament that the gender divisions leave the young people ill equipped to handle life in the real world because their interaction w/the opposite gender is so limited.

They worry that if we separate the sexes in school, there is no way to have them be separate yet academically equal.

This is a REAL NYC classroom...

Class sizes should be smaller so that regardless of whether the grouping is hetero or homogeneous based on gender, students can receive individualized attention (duh!) Who wouldn't want a skilled educator to teach their babies? (Duh!) Do you want a Dr. to operate on you w/no field experience? No? Apply it to teaching & voila.

Where the adversaries of single sex education go wrong is in assuming that separating the genders would be the equivalent of Jim Crow classrooms of the early half of the last century. #denied It is possible that separate yet equal classrooms can exist in our schools in a way that will benefit our students so that they can all have the most successful learning environment possible.

By no means does this suggest that either group learns differently as a result of a deficiency or because there's anything wrong with them, but rather because scientifically we are wired differently and therefore must have someone with a very clear understanding of these differences present the information to us.

Hmmm....You mean we actually receive and process information differently because of our gender? Oh sh*t! There actually is something to this Men are from Mars Women are from Venus thingamajig everyone's always prattling on about!

So all this time, we've been screwing up between each other 'cause we're not presenting our stances to each other the right way?

Damn.

Here are some more resources if you're interested:

http://www.tolerance.org/magazine/number-37-spring-2010/gender-segregation-separate-effective

http://www.singlesexschools.org/home.php

SMOOCHES!!!

SHINE ON!!!!

PS

I didn't forget about my Make Black History E'ryday Beefcake feature.  Here you go.... 

I dedicate this one to my momma no tattoos...Enjoy...

I feel pretty...oh sooo pretty...

I promise I will get y'all that smart people's blog post about the differences in how boys & girls learn & the role it plays in our happily ever afters. I had mucho rehearsal this weekend, so I didn't get to finish my research. I don't want to present you with misinformation. so...umm here's some ho sh*t. Enjoy!

Some of y'all got it soooo wrong.

Y'all are hitting the gym like a psycho trying to keep the outside of your body tight when your inbetween looks and feels like roast beast (no typo) or your peen works about as well as a deadman's pacemaker, or well as a thrice convicted defendant's Public defender, or as well as an over the hill hooker's pimp.

(sorry I couldn't pick what figurative language I wanted to use.)

I guess nobody ever told ya if you're even mildly entertaining & your face isn't hard on the eyes, the only workout you need to worry about is your kegels & your gargling skills. #hoish intended.

I know what I said is crass, but I only half mean it. Being pretty isn't enough. You also have to have some smarts about you kiddo. @candice202 & I used to have a third friend in our little unit of happiness. She was always a beautiful girl born to a beautiful mother, but both of them were cursed with being silly enough to believe that their beauty was enough to get them through life.

Our friend was an abysmal student with numerous occupation changes (she never had a career) and even more boyfriends. She had her highpoints, but for the most part she was a b*%ch, yet somehow, she ALWAYS had a boyfriend, usually one who'd cake her, take her all around, proud as a peacock to have her on his arm. She'd revel in the happiness of her new beau UNTIL he would inevitably realize how little there was to her and lose interest.

Nearly every dude who broke up with her went on to be blissfully happy in his next relationship. sah dah teh.

All weekend on Twitter, I read tweets abt what makes someone #unwifeable or #unhusbandable. (Some of y'all really went IN.) If u have to tell someone what makes them beneath you, why are you even wasting your time? Chances are, they already know where they're lacking and it has NOTHING to do w/how they look.

If you take a look at the longest lasting couples, none of them consist of two perpetually gorgeous-all-the-time-people. They may be mismatched, or they may both be a little lumpy, hard on the eyes, or a teensie bit tacky. (This is not a fattist diss.) Chances are they are together because they recognize what means something to them.

I know plenty of people who don't care about muscles and pretty faces. I know lots of people who are enlightened enough to appreciate that which is within. They don't care what someone looks like as long as they are good and decent and attentive. Basquiat calls these people ugly seat fillers.

I also know lots of people who are fronting and acting like they don't care when really they are the most superficial. Some of the people I know take care of themselves now because they don't want to fall to rack and ruin as they age. They want to lead a long and healthy life.

Some folks.....some folks are only doing it for a purely narcissistic look.

I can't front, I've always been a bit of a body girl.

In JHS, my bf played football for the boys school on the other side of campus. He was a tall Creole Mack w/more than a little girth to him. Though we barely even kissed, I think he was who got me hooked. In HS, it was easy for boys to have a nice physique.

If a dude had a nice shoulder to waist ratio, (think of an upside down triangle...see below) I'd've prolly let him get a sniff.....(Sorry mommy.) In college, folks' freshman fifteen+fountains of beer+rapidly slowing metabolisms made it a little tougher for me to find body dudes w/anything of import or interest to say.

AMAZING what you can find online! Whooo! Shoulder to waist ration at its finest...umm...umm...umm....

Most of the dudes who caught my eye still were taking care of themselves, (albeit a little more passively as life began to get more & more serious,) but they were definitely channeling more of their energy into getting their hustle/grind on. I've found that the dudes/chicas who have all the time in the world and focus to be in the gym non stop to sculpt their bodies or work on their look, don't usually have the time to pick up a book or two in between their reps or grooming appointments; their convo usually falls flat after a few text correspondences.

I'm well aware of the generalization I'm making here. You show me the SINGLE & STRAIGHT academe/scholar w/a banging body & fascinating convo who's gainfully employed & not being a perpetual student, & I'll eat my words. You tuned in to THE LAUREN SHOW. This is life as I see it, you disagree? Leave a comment or change the station.

The vacuous yet perpetually well groomed/overly fit are like those cakes on Food Network Ace of Cakes shows; a lot of work goes into them, they're fascinating to look at, they'll give you a taste of a dessert, but they're not as decadent as their exterior would make you think.

For some people, this is cool. Some folks don't want a person of depth. Some folks feel like those of us w/more to talk about that the 5th avenue sales & the latest workout equipment @ CRUNCH are too much work. It requires more than a little effort to maintain a relationship with one of us. Or the puddles don't want someone they perceive as an equal because they don't wanna feel like they compete w/someone. So instead they go for the simple...the easy.... the available....Gottlieb would be proud.

umm... yeah... you can skip a few sessions my dude.

SIDEBAR: The gym is basically the extended Ghei club. So, ummm... Fellas if you're spending ALL your time in there, at all hours of the day and night counting your BMI & comparing your lats, delts, & pecks w/someone else....ummm...yeah. HEY GURLL!!! How you doin?

A pretty face or a nice waist is nice for your photo ops, but can you share your thoughts, hopes and dreams with him/her? Will you be able to take him/her to work functions and not have to babysit all night 'cause he/she can't make conversation about anything that isn't on BET?

You can't judge a coloring book by its cover.

So, when u get ready to do those extra 15 reps, think about who or what it is you're really doing it for. Is it 'cause you feel a little shortness of breath when you were backing it up on your bedfellow or 'cause you were tired of backing it up against your own hands & u're trying to bag a breathing bedfellow?

If it's the latter, put the shakeweights down & get thee to a library QUICK. Turn off Vh1 for a night & switch on Ovation. Gain brain weight instead of muscle weight. You'd be surprised @ how quickly the caliber of would-be-suitors improves if you have more to offer.

DISCLAIMER:
I didn't say it wld start raining elligible bachelors. It may take a little while for them to appear, but they will definitely be of a better quality & class than the dude who makes kiss sounds @ you in front of the bodega or the random lady who walks up to you outta nowhere, runs her fingers in your hair & reminds you of how dope your collaborative progeny would be.

SMOOCHES!!!

SHINE ON!!!

I want it bad, your bad romance advice

I totally was going to write today about gender's role in education, you know, to show you guys I can write about diverse topics, but this one spoke to me a little bit more so we'll save that one for monday...it's more of a monday topic anyway.

I was talking to @manywomen about my forays into the dating world. I've always been boycrazy, so it only makes sense that at my age, I would be, ummm....man crazy I guess.

Standing in her office, I made the very public decision not to settle for things in a relationship that made me unhappy, uncomfortable, unsettled. In my past relationships, I had a tendency to make excuses for things I knew I shouldn't because in my mind I constantly heard that little nagging voice, the one terrified of growing old with my dogs and my gheis:

What if he's the one?

What if this is my lobster? (skip to the 8:11 mark)

Is he my special someone?

Is this my happily ever after?

I could accept his proposal, or I could keep holding out for his brother....hmmm

My mom married my dad when she was 24, had me at 25, my little brother at 28, and my baby brother at 31. For those who know me, even a little bit, you know that my Mommy is my template for womanhood. She is who I model myself after, who I long to be, whose possible embarrassment I consider whenever on the verge of wildin' out /spazzin'.

Even when I wasn't trying, something inside me was always forcing me to hangout in relationships that should not have been because I felt like I was decades behind her in my personal accomplishments.

I had the degrees she had, but not the solid personal life, so stick around I did.

Make plentiful excuses I did.

Settle over and over again, I did.

Maybe he made me laugh a lot.

Maybe he had access, power, faux confidence that lured me in.

Maybe he spoiled me.

Maybe he could lay the pipe well.

Maybe, maybe, maybe....

All these maybes mean d*ck when things just are not right. At the end of the day, settling is settling and all the wrongs will come to light usually at the most inopportune times, like at a work function when your beau misreads a ghei supervisor's catty exchange with you as disrespect and storms out of the function in front of ALL of your coworkers. *sigh*

As I was rambling on one of my many tirades in @manywomen's office today, she mentioned an article that she'd just read.

The site was reviewing Lori Gottlieb's upcoming book Marry Him: The Case for Settling for Mr. Good Enough the premise of which is essentially to stop holding out for your ideal man and marry the dude that's almost what you want.

Umm, 'scuse me Ms. Gottlieb, but isn't that what most chicks have been doing all along? I mean, if I had a penny, not a larger coin or bill mind you, for every time one of the homies said:

"I mean he's not___________"

OR

"I don't really like it when he____________"

OR

sh*t...

You know what all the apologies for reckless dude's behavior sounds like...either shorty has made them about you, made them to you about whatever she went through before, or....hell, you get my drift.

Anyway, I'm really curious, when did settling become what was hot? I know I did it, well, I didn't really settle per se as much as I was sold a false bill of goods. I have fallen, time and time again, for someone who wasn't what I thought he was, mostly because each and EVERY time I shrugged and figured that whoever I was with was as good as it gets.

Time & time again I had the one I pretended was the ONE, but we both knew he wasn't.

This is not something new for me, or really for most people I know.

Why?

Because ultimately, everyone is TERRIFIED of growing old and dying alone. So, we settle. More times than not, we accept the lowest and most base level of treatment from a lover because it is emotionally cheaper to keep'her than start all over again with someone new.

We keep an unfaithful lover around.

We ignore known deal breakers to have an occasional arm piece.

We pretend certain annoying little things don't grate on our nerves.

We accept only being happy marginally happy instead of looking completely happy.

But is this anything novel?

Not trying to knock Gottlieb's hustle, but pretty much what she's "discovering" is damn near exactly what Terri McMillan wrote in Disappearing Acts. A successful, educated woman can't find a mate on her level/in her lane, so she settles for a blue collar man with more baggage than the chicks in the Badu video.

If you can't have a partner that is your equal, one that compliments you and urges you to grow and develop as a person, you may as well have one that will make you weak in the knees, even if half your salary goes to pay his child support to his baby mommas, plural, since he doesn't make enough money to take care of them on his own.

The greatest problem with Ms. Gottlieb's theory is that it is only encouraging WOMEN to settle and accept that "you ain't getting no younger, you might as well do it." She has essentially crafted another woe-is-me-woe-is-my-womanhood-reality for some into a theory.

Why doesn't this same brilliant theory apply to the men they're pursuing or waiting with baited breath for?

Possibly because the itch to get hitched for fellas doesn't kick in until later in life (in their 30s and 40s) whereas for many chicas, checking into matrimony hotel is a college post graduate plan. More often than not, the fellas approach marriage from a much more practical standpoint than merely bad romance.

This is one of the few times where the guys got it right. (*ducks shots*)

Marriages that start later in life have a higher success rate while those who get married too early, tend to have more issues and a greater rate of divorce. Research shows that it tends to be because people who marry young are ill equipped for the roles of husband and wife.

You mean to tell me that marriages work better when they occur between two GROWNups as opposed to younger people?

hmmm....

Who knew?

So basically, it isn't the notion of settling we should be focusing on as Gottlieb, the 40 year old single parent tells us (shots fired) but rather that we should make sure we are mature enough to handle the concept of happily ever after.

SMOOCHES!!!

SHINE ON!!!

Revenge is a dish best served with a smile

I'm gonna try to free write this joint 'cause otherwise my editorial self may cause me to limit what I want to say.

So my boo @blackiecollins wrote a blogpost yesterday that really spoke to me. The topic of the blog is the retaliation of a woman scorned.

Blackie references SATC (the scene where Samantha tosses fliers about Richard's wrong doing around the city) and the mistress YaVaughnie Wilkins who recently put all of dude's photos & BI on front street when he broke it off w/her. 2008-9 were the years of the Cheaters (hell 2008was the year of the rat after all) but I'm declaring 2010 the year of the Scorned Free(it IS the year of the Tyger after all. MEEEEOOOWWWWW)

Why the year of the Free? (Firstly 'cause my big D will soon be finalized and I can start yelling "Free @ last, Free @ last, THANK GOD ALMIGHTY I'M FREE @ LAST!!"I keed I keed.) The real reason is because I have been a woman scorned by my 1st spouse and instead of retaliating in any of the multiple awful, painful, and gruesome ways I imagined getting revenge, I have chosen through it ALL to take the high road.

Taking the high road when your love is thrown back in your face is not an easy thing to do.

Finding a way to do so is a way to find true freedom and true vengeance for the wrongs you have endured.

When you are used to reaching for the warmth of someone in your bed, hearing a laugh in the other room, or even used to arguing as though your life depended upon it, (let's be all the way real, someone has to be present in your life for you to argue with them and making up/releasing all that tension can be soso GOOD) initially, it is beyond torturous to find yourself in bed alone realizing that the only laugh you hear is your own and when you yell your voice only echoes through space that once was for two.

When first injured by a lover, many times it feels like death has coming to claim you because your spirit is so broken and the only way you can resuscitate your life is by destroying theirs.

AT FIRST.

I can't front, when I found out I wasn't the only one he was calling baby, via Facebook....CLASSY my first instinct led me to his closet. As most low self esteem men do, he masked his insecurities in the expensive or flashy trappings in hopes of garnering respect or admiration through his "style."

I flung the door open, tears streaming down my face, chest heaving with sobs....one hand clutched the door the other my phone as I narrated to @candice202 the physical incarnation of my misery I was about to reign down upon his denim & dunks.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the full length near his closet and realized how much I looked like Bernadette from Waiting to Exhale. Kudos to Angela Basset for capturing that seething rage wrestling with sorrow so accurately. I closed the door & sat on the floor & sobbed & screamed & decided I wasn't going to think abt it anymore for a few hours. Then I went out w/my friends as he was out w/her....on NYE and had the best time I'd had in THE LONGEST TIME.

I had every right, every access, and every opportunity to maim, massacre, and wound in this situation, but chose to leave injuries for that sweet gal known as Karma to dole out.

As I'm being honest, I couldn't resist, and eventually did do something to the clothes in his closet. I packed them up in bags for him to take with him when it seemed as though he was deliberately dragging his feet about FINALLY leaving. This did not go over well, wasn't entirely well received, but it was done, we both knew it was done. He wasn't the first man I watched walk out of my life, and he probably won't be the last.

My 1st husband was both my greatest mistake, and my greatest learning experience. For that, I am grateful. The devastation and misery I felt taught me a lot about myself and a lot about forgiveness. For the last year and change instead of trying to destroy them as I'd felt destroyed, I rebuilt myself.

I've come back to the world new & improved. Better, faster, stronger.... I've said it once, and I'll say it as long as there is breath in my body:

ONE MONKEY DON'T STOP THE LAUREN SHOW

Good living is the greatest revenge there is. I said I FELT destroyed but in actuality, that situation didn't break me. It hurt me, it affected me, it changed me, but it did not and will not embitter me nor did it stop my life.

Instead of letting it ruin me, I vowed to reflect upon it and come away from it better. I told you before that everything that happens to me becomes fodder for me to write about. Hell, if Nora Ephron could take her 1st husband's affair and spin into the empire of scorned woman rom-coms she has, why not me?

I crack PLENTY jokes it's the source of some of my best material & if someone asks what happened, I keep it 100 & tell the ENTIRE truth, but I NEVER allowed the hurt I felt manifest into negative action because doing so would only stoop me to a juvenile level that I refuse to dwell on.

Hurt people hurt people.

I believe in Hammurabi's laws for most violations of the laws of society, but they don't really apply for crimes of the heart.

Next time someone you care about does something to hurt you, consider the source and think of what it is that is motivating them to do it. Chances are, they're trying to respackle their heart back together from whoever last drop kicked it.

Don't vow to destroy them, wish them well & walk away on the high road. Otherwise you'll always just be trudging through the gutters and no one likes a guttersnipe.

SMOOCHES!!!

SHINE ON!!!

When You Love Somebody....

I keep getting Dear Lauren emails about grown ups trying to define their relationships. Clearly from my last post you can see I too suffer from trying to define my situation. There seems to be too many people worrying about labels and what they mean instead of enjoying the person they are with for who they are and what they contribute to their lives. I pondered the topic of relationships, as I often do, and came up with a few sage words of wisdom. These are just my simple musings as I ponder l'amore and why it's so hard for so many of us to get right.

*le sigh*

The time that you're with someone is when you're with them. When you are not, you are with yourself and that should be good enough. Placing a label on what you're doing isn't like awarding someone a promotion at a company. The job is a tangible, concrete thing with measurable goals and results. Your relationship, if a happy one, is the stuff dreams are made of. You can't measure or define a dream. Dreams are fluid, wispy, and flow like water in whatever direction they choose.

The dimensions of a relationship are decisions that two people make regardless of their geography. Regardless of where you are, you are where your heart is. If you decide to let someone in your heart and hold them there, then you are together no matter where the two of you are. Look at the military couples who have to make considerations for their distance and know that they are going to be apart for at least 18 months. They make allowances and acceptances, but they are still together. As long as you're together in each other's hearts you always will be together.

Love and monogamy are not mutually exclusive. You can love someone madly and deeply and not be exclusive with them. Look at your best friend. You probably love and adore your best friend above all of your other friends, but yet and still you will always have other friends. Having other friends doesn't take away from the love you have for your truest friend. It doesn't make you any less of a friend to your bestie just because you have other friends.

The thing is, some people have a notion that there's a scarcity of everything and others have a notion that there is an abundance of everything. The objective in your life should be to be on the side of the abundance. There is only as much love in your life as you believe there is, so BELIEVE!

Love is boundless, love is limitless, love doesn't have an area code on it. Love is never wasted. Don't live life afraid to give it because you're afraid of getting your feelings hurt or losing your love.

SMOOCHES!!!

SHINE ON!!!

Why We're Not Friends Pt 2.

So there was this guy, many many many moons ago, and I was CRAZY about him.

I can't even tell you how many pieces I wrote about him & the way he made me feel.

I was young and silly. He was slightly older, and seemingly more together. (seemingly)

In my own little weird way, I fell for him.

In his own obscure and strange way, he fell for me.

The greatest issue between us was we spoke different languages. Not literally. We both spoke English, but it was how we spoke it that was different.

Those who know me know that I am a wordy chick. He was, and still is a man of few words, but his actions were strong.

Me being a woman of words and actions to back them up and him being a man of actions with few words to support them meant we NEVER SPOKE THE SAME LANGUAGE.

Being a literal earth sign, and wanting clarity because of course at early 20 something having a guy who wants to spend EVERY EVENING with you is not really clear what he wants, I constantly hit him with a barrage of questions about our situation. I asked him about his, ahem, other activities, but worst of all, I CONSTANTLY asked him

WHAT ARE WE DOING?

What does that even mean?

It was clear we were dating and frolicking. We had an INCREDIBLE physical chemistry and it was clear to everyone around us that we were liking each other a whole whole WHOLE lot. Hell, truth be told we more than liked each other. I know I did anyway. I loved dude, some of me still does. If I use the Rosetta Stone of his actions to translate how he feels, I think he did too.

We just didn't have a label on what we were doing. Instead of just enjoying what was happening between us, I needed it defined, I needed it concrete. I wasn't willing to read the subtitles and decipher what he meant. I needed it plain and in my language.

In many ways, I feel as though part of the reason we self destructed, or at least reduced each other to glorified long distance f*%k buddies was because I bludgeoned the beauty out of what we had with that damn question.

Years later, we were fortunate enough to reconnect and RECONNECT and.....whooo...well you get the gist of it. Only when we did, life had managed to get in the way, physically, emotionally, and UNCOMFORTABLY.

The love I felt for him way back when never disappeared, I knew it, I felt it, but even though time had added numbers to our ages, we still didn't speak the same language. Though I wasn't asking the question anymore and was concentrating all my energy into just letting things be between us and enjoying it day by day.....ummmm.....how can I put this?

Have you seen Like Water for Chocolate? I think I've referenced it before on the blog. I totally effin love that book & movie. Speaking of lost in translation....

In it, there are two lovers who have spent the bulk of their lives pining for each other, longing for each other, marrying others just to stay in each other's proximity when life got in the way.

At the end of the movie, life had finally run its course, obstacles were out of the way and they were finally able to consumate their love for one another. The love between them had lasted so long and burned so strongly that when they finally, ahem, touched, in the biblical sense of the word, dude had a heart attack and died. Some odd and poetic imagery follows in which the female protagonist ate matches and the house combusted burning them both and allowing them to live eternally together in the afterlife.

start at around 1:20 for the love fest.

Ignoring the Pyramus and Thisbe-esque ending, I always feel like that movie is a metaphor for me and dude.

What we feel/felt, for one another burns so strongly within us that were we to ever give it a name or admit what it is/was, it would surely consume us and be our demise. Not because we would combust like poor Tita, but because admitting and accepting what he didn't want to say would change how we move through our lives.

So instead we let what we had and what we felt drift away dissolving into the recesses of our memories.

I think fondly upon him and wonder what he's up to. Maybe our paths will cross again and he'll say all the right things and I'll know how to act right. I wonder if he remembers....

SMOOCHES!!!!

SHINE ON!!!

Don't Know What You've Got 'Til It's Gone

Love is not finding someone you can live with. It's finding someone you can't live without. "

-Rafael Ortiz

Appreciation

Not a difficult idea to grasp, but for some reason, damn near impossible for most people to put into action.

When I say people, I am specifically talking about people in relationships. Why is it that so many people take their significant others for granted until they're afraid that they are going to vanish?

When trying to gain a girl or a guy, people tend to put their best selves forward. They are charming, sweet, affectionate, funny, all of the things necessary to lure the possible significant other in. Think of it like the pretty part of a venus flytrap.

But once most people get the person they're pining after, things tend to change.

Spouses stop taking care of themselves physically 'cause they're overly comfortable in their relationship.

BF's stop doing the romantic gestures that originally won them a girl out of their league.

Lovers become inconsiderate because they're overly comfortable with their mate.

The sex stops being attentive, passionate, sensitive.

PS When folks gain weight 'cause of being happy with who they're with, I call it the Fat Happy In Love Disease. It's WORSE than the Freshman 15.

Why?

Why allow being comfortable to sabotage your happiness?

Most folks out there dating/courting/being with someone have it TOTALLY twisted. The work shouldn't be trying to win the person. It's easy to be good and kind and wonderful to someone for a short period of the courtship. Even the greatest *sshole in the world can manage to be charming for a brief period.

The work should be in KEEPING the person because that requires that you be good and kind and wonderful to someone for a LONG period of time. It isn't enough to bait the person and get them on your hook. The trick to being a good mate is keeping them hooked.

I'm not advocating being a performer or being phony to the person your are offering your heart to. I'm saying that these are traits you should display in life PERIOD. If you love someone or care for them, why shouldn't they ALWAYS get the best of you? Who or what rainy day are you saving it for if not them?

When I would complain that he no longer showed me the same undying affection and attention that he used to 1st Husband used to say something that drove me MAD (and not in a good way.)

"We don't have to do all that sappy, romantic stuff . That sh*t is so commercial and for people who want what we have. (WORD?) We have our whole lives to live together to show how we feel. I'm home every night with you, (No, you're really not) wake up every morning with you, (Again, Negative.)....Shouldn't that be enough to show you how I feel?"

ummm.. DENIED.

Being around someone all the time does not quality time make. Being in the same space and barely acknowledging a person is not pledging your love to them. It doesn't make someone feel appreciated just 'cause you're there and your eyes are glued to whatever version of Madden I pre-ordered on Amazon.

You don't get to be selfish and self centered just because you now "have" the person in your life. They are giving you the gift of their love; the greatest gift anyone person can give another person.

Take care of yourself and your mate because that is what you SHOULD do.

Be considerate and affectionate to your partner because that is what you SHOULD do.

Be honest and consistent with yourself and them because that is what you SHOULD do.

Just saying that you love them yet doing things that conflict with what love is supposed to be is not fair and is taking the object of your affection for granted. Actions ALWAYS speak louder than words.

Think I'm lying? Don't wanna listen to me? Guess what happens next.

No one, unless they're a martyr trying to win nominations for sainthood, wants to do things in a relationship and see no return. One can only take someone for granted for so long before they get fed up and eventually tell you to "go and do you."

They spend some time alone, they regroup, they get back to their fighting weight/full flyness, and they get happy again.

Nothing makes someone more attractive and enticing than someone who is confident and happy about who they are and the life they live.

Eventually, they find someone new who does appreciate them, who does value them, for a little bit longer than the courtship phase, who makes them laugh, who understands their idiosyncrasies a little better than you did and then what do you do? Like an asshole you start saying and doing all of things you should have done when the person pledged their love to you.

le sigh

Avoid all the drama. If you're with someone you love, and you truly love them, don't wait for them to be off and happy with someone else. Treat the person you love with the same attention and gusto you do when you are first trying to lure them and attract them to you and (if it's what the two of you want) you'll find you'll live happily ever after together.

SMOOCHES!!!

SHINE ON!!!!!

Bad Timing

I've never been able to understand the way people survive in long distance relationships. I enjoy my space and being able to move freely, but when I lay down to go to sleep, I often wish there was someone here with me to wrap his arms around me. So I got to thinking about all the ways it could hurt, and came up with this...

Our timing always sucked.

You were there I was here.

But when we spoke, it was always like you were just across my pillow.

We created together.

I created and you inspired.

Wrote verses of the futures we imagined together,

the dreams I dreamed we'd share,

all the things we would do if ever fortunate enough to live up to the promise poetry would bring.

You were not just my muse.

Not ever a MANCHILD.

You once were the perfect Unicorn.

Comfortable and confident enough to allow me to be the beautiful disaster I've always been

and not be threatened by it.

Our similarities were so vast. So expansive. So numerous. So familiar. So easy.

Our differences were so vast. So expansive. So numerous. So foreign. So difficult.

You were there and I was here.

THANK GOD FOR THE INTERNET.

Without it, I would have died from the anticipation of waiting to hear your words.

We talked for hours on the phone talked even longer online.

Talking so that our words could have the proximity our bodies couldn't

You wanted to be only mine and would have been had it not been for....

I wanted to be only yours and would have been had it not been for.....

You claimed another woman when you should have claimed me.

and another

and another again

You stopped calling

You stopped writing

I'm still sorry it took me so long.

My heart felt like it had fallen through my feet.

But even hollow, I was willing to be yours.
even hollow, you were willing to be mine.

I arrived; even if only for a short spell it was long enough for you to feel what I meant.

Now we both were there.

But we weren't here together.

You had her,

Even if she wasn't there.

We stood awkwardly holding onto pieces of lives we could have been living together.

Then your phone rang.

We walked away to others who would never even know our minds were on each other.

Seeing you and not being with you, I felt my heart fall to the ground again at your feet.

Years passed

and you found another.

I began to court another.
What choice did I have?

But he was Unworthy, and he acted the part well.
Didn't know to tell him my ♥ had already been pledged to another.

I didn't mind because though I went through the motions w/him, my heart was still at your feet.

Unworthy, and he acted it well.

Uncomfortable and so insecure he tried to destroy the beautiful disaster I've always been;

he was so threatened by it.

We fell apart.

Quietly and secretly, I was glad.

A small part of me always wished that you would find me again.

This time, I found you.

We were at an impasse

My last name was different.

Though our hearts were still the same.

Seeing you, I didn't feel hollow anymore.

I could feel every thud of my heart as we spoke.

I could hear every breath I took.

I could smell you as though there'd never been miles between us.

But we were at an impasse.

We smiled.

We hugged, though I knew what the hug would do.

Feeling you and not feeling you I felt the familiar dislodging of my heart from my chest.

Your lips brushed my cheek in salutation and again in fairwell

You let them linger a second longer than you should have

I had to pull away,

didn't I?

I wanted only to feel them on the place on my neck you've been the only one to find.

I wanted only to take you in my arms and never let go.

I wanted only to tell you all that I'd never said so as not to make the miles between us feel like a thousand tiny daggers carving away at the place my heart once was.

I wanted to cave to the temptation and make your words across my pillow be an actuality and no longer simply a possibility.

Beyond tempted to take you wherever you would have me go.

But you are there

and I am here

There will most likely be othersfor me

There have always been othersfor you

Unworthy, they'll always act thepart.

So here we are,

we will always be with me here and you there.

Our timing has always sucked.

Real Talk

1st and I used to argue, A LOT. In hindsight, not a single one of our arguments was ever about anything worthwhile. We are each Alpha Dogs, I'm the oldest child, he's his mother's only. Each of us has that nagging want to be right by any means necessary. We were really pugilistic with one another, more than anything because we were both focused, determined, and in a lot of ways spoiled and accustomed to getting our way.

The making up was always spectacular, but not for the reasons you think. Something about pushing or being pushed to the limits of your love that gives you an overwhelming sense of relief for it to all be over. Most often we would apologize, lick each others wounds, figuratively, but never really resolve the issue at the core of our quarrel.

Thing about being married is it is SUPPOSED to be forever. So if you argue with your spouse about something that ultimately the two of you KNOW is trivial, you don't want to spend the rest of your life in a shared space eith someone you're beefing with. When a light appears at the end of the tunnel of your dispute or you notice a life raft drifting along the tumultuous waters of your argument, you claw your way towards it or you cling to it desperately, even if it means having to eat crow and drop whatever your point is.

Over time, I learned to pick my battles and most importantly when to back down.

For someone who NEVER EVER wants to be wrong, blame my zodiac sign, not me, this was the most difficult lesson to learn. I hated backing down because deep in the recesses of my head there was always this little Junior High School version of me egging my antagonism on and urging me not to be a punk and "play myself" or worse yet to allow someone to "play me." I fought because I didn't want to lose face.

Ridiculous, right?

Recently, a friend told me that she and her boo fell out. They'd had an easy relationship sans any real drama. They'd exchanged tokens and words of ♥ and affection and things were going along swimmingly despite the tremendous physical distance between them. But being inconsiderate, he'd done something that broke her heart. That's extreme. Maybe he didn't break her heart, but he certainly added a few cracks to it by hurting her feelings in a way that changed something between them. She just wasn't right after it.

How did she deal with this injury?

She skirted around the topic, barely speaking about it, and definitely not letting on to him how much it affected her. While around each other, she played nice, and kept her thoughts to herself so as not to stir the waters or make the time between then unpleasant.

She then opted to freeze him out verbally and emotionally for a week. It wasn't what she wanted to do, but she couldn't bear what happened between them, and couldn't bring herself to feel like she was losing face by telling him. She wanted to tell him, but she couldn't bring herself to show how much she cared or to admit to being as open as she felt.

Each day she'd wake up like an addict, counting the days since she last spoke to him. "Is it 7 days or 15 to break an addiction?" (She only got to 10.) Each day wishing she could speak to him. When she couldn't take all the thoughts and voices toiling around in her head, she burst like a dam.

She called him.

She blurted it out like verbal vomit.

She said all that she wanted to say and you know what? He didn't think anything awful about her in response. He reacted in a way that showed interest and understanding about what she said and he was contrite. She'd held her tongue to try and prove a point when it was better made through speaking. She was so afraid of losing face that she was willing to risk losing her ♥.

You can't lose face in ♥.

Silly when you think about it, but so many people still do it on a regular basis.

Grown people who are too busy still living and viewing life through their adolescent lives to actually be fully grown.

Don't give too much of yourself 'cause he'll think you're sweating him.
Don't call her too much 'cause she'll think you're a sucka.
Don't do too much 'cause they'll take advantage of you.

♥ is supposed to be about being overjoyed to be with someone who is as overjoyed about being with you as you are with them. It should be about sharing ideas, interests, passions,
not about bludgeoning someone with your ideas and opinion and then freezing them out with the silent treatment until they relent.

Grown ups are supposed to be in better emotional control than their adolescent selves and have a better grasp of their big boy and big girl words so that they can express themselves to the one they ♥ freely, without worrying about losing face.

☑ your inner teenager and watch the happiness start to roll in.

SMOOCHES!!!

SHINE ON!!

Why We're Not Friends Pt 1.

One of the homies just broke up with his chica. It wasn't a bad breakup, in spite of him igging the October Rule. It was just time for these two people to go their separate ways because together, they just weren't all-together-right.

As he was the one who incited the breakup talk, he told me he ended up hitting her with,

Let's Still Be Friends

Ugh!

Dude, maybe down the line when the two of you have BOTH found happiness in someone new MAYBE then you can be friends. But right now?

Naw unh.

Not happening.

Not fair.

Not gonna go smoothly.

Basically, DENIED.

Where did this whole idea ever even come from? I know it's an attempt to let the other person down easy, but the whole notion of it is misleading and not what either of the two of you really want. Sure you'd like to keep the person in your life in some capacity, but eventually this farcical relationship will take it's toll on one or both of you.

This is someone you were your most intimate self with just a couple of days ago and now you expect that this person is supposed to be ok just playing Scrabble with you from time to time?

(Sidebar: You totally have to see Youth in Revolt to understand what "Playing Scrabble" really means.)

When someone hits you with that whole Let's Still Be Friends sh*t it's 'cause they're really asking for permission to still be around and hang out (re: hookup) with you when loneliness hits.

Chances are, he (I say he because more often than not, this is one area where men are more at fault than women are) will probably still do the dickheaded thing and ACT like you're still together, BUT YOU'RE NOT.

He will still text you, instant message you, facebook message you to let you know he's thinking of you, send you sappy email messages just to say 'hi.' You'll still have your inside jokes and secret moments that he'll use as a lure to keep you close, but you must always remember

HE SAID HE WANTS TO JUST BE FRIENDS.

I gotta say, I resent that JUST being inserted as though friends are lower on the emotional totem pole than your now-insignificant other.

I've had lovers come and go, but my true friends have outlasted them all. In reality being friends isn't a JUST kinda thing. It's a supercedes-and-goes-beyond-kinda thing. If you and dude are friends, then you two should be even more loyal than lovers. But what do I know, I'm just the happy-though-slighted-divorcee.

He doesn't want to be with you the way you want him to and now he has a trapdoor through which he can screw whoever he wants like a rabbi with a holy sheet (intended double entendre.)

See, the thing is, don't hate me for saying it, but he doesn't want to be with you. If he did, he WOULD be with you. I know some of you are going to argue with me, but there is a very good reason why.

If one half of the former couple is single, you can't be friends with someone who made you come. Correction: Ladies/girls/chicks/women/people with uteruses can't be friends with someone who's made them come.

Why?

'Cause first of all, finding someone that makes you come WELL isn't a frequent occurrence for some of us. For some of us, that's the sexual equivalent of winning big money on scratch tickets.

Sorry fellas. I know some of you think that you're those golden tickets. I hate having to burst your bubble but some of you alleged champion lovers have really been audience members at the greatest show on earth. womp womp So if she's ok with JUST being friends, chances are you two have JUST been FRIENDS for longer than you know.

And LAWD HE'P HIM if the dude trying to hand you that Let's Still Be Friends concillation prize be someone who actually gave you MULTIPLES. Forget a scratch ticket or a unicorn. THAT dude is the sexual equivalent of a fervent Catholic meeting the pope or this dude meeting Britney and having a slumber party with her.

It's not happening.

On the whole, chicas are too soft and pink to have had repeated good sex with someone and just be ok with sticking around to congratulate or be happy for the next chick dude is pipelaying. Let's keep it 100: the only reason Lil' Wayne's baby mommas get along so well is 'cause there are kids and checks involved.

Just face it, your ex isn't going to be happy and cool to hang out with your new chick.

NEGATORY.

Maybe once she finds the next dude that splinters her back, keeps her singing sonatas of his name in a falsetto, and brings her to tears 'cause he makes her feel THAT good, maybe then you guys can actually be friends.

But not before. Until she's happy again, with the next dude, y'all aren't friends.

And knowing how some of y'all get down, once you see her happy, that's prolly when your confused self wants her back. *smh*

SMOOCHES!!!

SHINE ON!!!

I wanna thank you....

"The Muses in Greek mythology, poetry, and literature are the goddesses or spirits who inspire the creation of literature and the arts. " http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Muse

Ahhh to be a creative visited by a muse & inspired by him/her to hone your craft, to polish your works, to create something of value to someone else because you have been so inspired by another, well that's just a truly awesome feeling.

I've had a couple of dudes over my lifetime that I credited with being my muse because the works I created while with them most often poetry, always had me look back on them like, "Damn, really? I wrote that shit?"

Much like having a couple of great loves throughout life, I feel like you could have a couple of muses if you're open and aware to their presence in your life.

Sounds awesome right?

You have a person who makes you feel so strongly that you are forced to create art in response to how you're feeling. What could be wrong with this?

Well I'll tell you dear viewer.

For me, when I'm with someone, I only write well, and write a lot when it's shitty, awful, or over.

Surpreese surpreese that right around now I'm doing a blog a day?

Not really. I need something to fill up all the hours in the day I used to spend talking about you, thinking about you, dreaming of you....as a result, I look at the calendar and I'm shocked @ how long it's been since I saw, spoke to, thought of you....until....

I got a little sad about it just now, but I'll keep pretending as long as you don't call my bluff.

I tried to recently call it quits with yet another would be muse. And I really thought it was for real this time...DENIED. I don't do that classic chick flick movie shit. I don't stress eat and get fat, I don't disappear off the face of the earth. I write my frustrations out. If what I know is the hurt from some level of disrespect I've suffered from your lack of consideration, then I'm going to write a story, poem, play, or most recently blogpost, and share it with the world to vindicate myself.

I am not alone in this artistic self therapy. Matt Hartley did the same thing when he felt f*%ked over by Betty on Ugly Betty. He made all those hideous portraits of her. Artists deal with emotions through their craft. Passion is handled or dismissed with greater passion.

I'm not even the least bit cranky or upset about it. Maybe I'm a little masochistic.

(I always knew I liked a lil kink, but not James Franco-bodypillow kink.)

I seem to enjoy the hurt, the angst, the DRAMA because I know that ultimately, I'll get a good piece out of it. No! Not that piece you naughty little viewer!

Whether I'm tortured because I can't see you, the royal you, or bc I know you're elsewhere when you should be with me, the pangs I feel within drive me to write. Detailed, wet with emotion, teardrop on my pillow pieces that appeal to others.

Tragic hurt and sadness are universal sentiments that everyone can relate to. Why do u think ♥ songs do as well as they do? Either the listener's going through what they're hearing, or they're longing for someone to feel it with. Look at Mary J. Blige, would she have done as well as she had if she hadn't been able to appeal to the hurt so many women felt for eeeeleeehvon years?

So, to the dudes who thought they got over cause I shed a tear or two, or the ones who didn't recognize the precious cargo they carried with them when I willingly offered my heart, or the ones who were too busy being a puddle to appreciate the vastness of the oceans I wld've sailed with them,

I'd like to thank you.

Thank you for reminding me that there was always something more important than you in my life.

The novelty of you only clouded my focus & had me distracted like watching the curls of smoke dance away.

So why'd I keep you around? The IDEA of you is what kept me going and motivated me. The POSSIBILITY of what may come is what makes me stick around and remain fascinated by the base actions some of you committed or by the overwhelming ennui I've felt from immersing myself in your (talentless) passion.

Nonetheless, thank you.

Thank you for the comical.
Thank you for the stupid.

Thank you for the passion filled debates.
Thank you for the thoughtless.

Thank you for the sweet moments.
Thank you for the misleading forehead kisses.

Thank you for the sweet moments when you held my hand.

Thank you for inspiring me by being who u are/were.

Most of all, thank you for giving me fodder to write about.

SMOOCHES!!!

SHINE ON!!!

Happily Ever After?

@manywomen was in a mood on monday morning.

It seems that she had some light discord with a non-work friend LAST week. Nothing too major, just a difference of opinion and not even a heated difference of opinion at that.

Apparently, the friend still felt a certain sort of way about the exchange, lamented about it to her husband, who then took it upon himself to call @manywomen and reprimand her about making his wife feel badly about something that didn't really have anything to do with him or with @manywomen.

She promptly told him to f*%k off.

Tickled as I was about her reaction to what he said, it got me to thinking...

Mulling through my thoughts my eyes landed on A Belle in Brooklyn's post about marriage.

http://www.abelleinbrooklyn.com/home/2010/1/3/reflections-marriage.html

She wasn't disparaging the institution, she wasn't chomping at the bit to get to it, instead, she was reflecting on a recent wedding she attended and wondering what it takes to make a marriage.

What does it take to make a marriage?

More people seem to know how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie roll pop than they do about how to coexist happily with the person they love more than flowers love the sun.

At my bridal shower, kitchen themed of course, I am a cooker, ask about me, one of the parlor games we played involved the ladies at the shower writing the ingredients for a good marriage on recipe cards for me.

Love

Work

Patience

An open heart

I'm trying to remember all the things the coterie of my mother's friends (and two of mine) suggested for me to live happily ever after with my chosen mate.

I don't have the cards anymore. They were among the things I lost in the fire. (Don't ask.)

Having been a card carrying member of the married before thirty club, I can honestly say that I rushed into it.

We both did.

We thought that it was silly to have a lengthy cohabitational situation/engagement.

Why drag it out if we (thought we) knew what we wanted?

Thing is, we didn't really know each other long enough or well enough to have the foundation needed to weather the storm.

People always ask me 'what happened?' as far as what the impetus was for the decline of the self proclaimed "Wil & Jada of Brooklyn."

Some people believe that you may really really like someone, and that over the years of a marriage, you in love with the person, but that love doesn't always burn as intensely at the beginning of a marriage.

We were the opposite.

We burned passionately, intensely, and crazily.

We were madly head-over-heels in love.

We smothered each other with affection, attention, and time.

We were that annoying couple who finished each other's sentences, shared inside jokes, and lived in a world separate and apart from everyone else around us.

For the first three years of our relationship, we did EVERYTHING together...

We did EVERYTHING TOGETHER....

We braided our lives together, made our friends be friends, shopped together, attended all of each other's work functions together, spent idle time together, created together (well he created & I just tried to help.)

We didn't spend one night apart, until we started to spend all of our nights apart and THAT was the problem.

THAT was what we did wrong.

We burned too fast and too hot together.

We did too much of our lives together.

Two people constantly around one another with SO many ways to stay in contact did not allow each other any time to miss each other.

There was no mystery, no space between us, no privacy.

There was no fairytale between us after a while.

There was no appreciation when you know that forever is allegedly guaranteed.

There is a vast difference between loving someone and becoming obsessed with/addicted to them.

I am a strong advocate of people in a relationship sharing a life together, but it is of the utmost importance that you maintain your own life, your own stuff, your own patterns while still creating

The other day, after reading my open letter post, one of the ladies said that she was actively walking into love because falling hurts.

She has a point.

Falling in love hurts because eventually you're going to have to get up and you'll feel what you injured on the way down.

You'll feel the things you stopped doing.

You'll feel the friends you stopped talking to.

You'll feel the routines you gave up for them.

I'd much rather walk in love, then maybe run a little, as long as I have someone to run wild with me.

My favorite, and oft used quote from Sex and the City is:

“Maybe some women aren't meant to be tamed. Maybe they just need to run free til they find someone just as wild to run with them.”

So if you want this soon-to-be-legally-single woman's advice about what it takes to have a successful marriage I'll tell you:

It takes two people in love willing to maintain love for themselves while still maintaining a love and appreciation for each other. Two people willing to make a life together while still holding onto one of their own.

And patience...and alcohol....lots and lots of alcohol and sex help a marriage too. freaky deaky sex...in public place....LOTS AND LOTS of freaky deaky "safe word" sex. umm....not that I know from experience or anything....

If you can do that, then you can have the happily ever after so many of us have allowed to slip through our now-unadorned fingers like a rope on the losing end of tug-of-war.

speaking of which, do you know anyone who wants to buy a diamond ring in an antique platinum setting?

i keed i keed....unless you're gonna do it....

SMOOCHES!!!

SHINE ON!!

What are you doing to be a global citizen?

I have a couple of blog posts that I was going to put up today, but something about the frivolity of discussing the unhappiness of interpersonal relationships while extreme devastation has affected the people of Haiti just felt wrong.

I appreciate and applaud tonterias, (Spanish for f*%kery) but in the wake of such suffering, it doesn't seem right to think about the sh*ts and giggles without doing something first.

Even trying to find images to accompany the post felt exploitative and wrong.

In case you've been living under a rock for the last few days, Haiti was struck by an earthquake that demolished much of the country and has left many destitute.

if you saw the White House, or any of our monuments, look like this, what would it do to you?

So, what am I doing you ask?

A few things.

First, I'm informing. On his Yele Haiti website, http://www.yele.org/, Wyclef said:

"Haiti today faced a natural disaster of unprecedented proportion, an earthquake unlike anything the country has ever experienced.

The magnitude 7.0 earthquake – and several very strong aftershocks – struck only 10 miles from Port-au-Prince.

I cannot stress enough what a human disaster this is, and idle hands will only make this tragedy worse. The over 2 million people in Port-au-Prince tonight face catastrophe alone. We must act now.

President Obama has already said that the U.S. stands ‘ready to assist’ the Haitian people. The U.S. Military is the only group trained and prepared to offer that assistance immediately. They must do so as soon as possible. The international community must also rise to the occasion and help the Haitian people in every way possible.”

Many people have already reached out to see what they can do right now. We are asking those interested to please do one of two things: Either you can use your cell phone to text “Yele” to 501501, which will automatically donate $5 to the Yele Haiti Earthquake Fund (it will be charged to your cell phone bill),"

There is also a link to click on the site, https://co.clickandpledge.com/advanced/default.aspx?wid=23093 If you would rather donate that way.

Unicef is also taking donations to help the children in Haiti:

https://secure.unicefusa.org/site/Donation2?df_id=6680&6680.donation=form1

As is the American Red Cross

http://www.redcross.org/

If you're in the Brooklyn area, I'm working with a few other friends and organizing a clothing, toiletries, shoes, and blankets drive with various days in the next few weeks scheduled for pickups. Our first pickup will be Friday afternoon. I may be able to give you some information about where to take things in Manhattan too.

For more information about where to bring supplies or how you may be able to help, please email me at itsthelaurenshow@gmail.com.

Don't just comment on the atrocities at your water cooler. DO SOMETHING!

SMOOCHES!!

SHINE ON!!!

A Tisket, a tasket...Wanna play with the eggs in my basket?

Baby, don't worry 'bout it.

Hey there, don't even think about it.

You worry 'bout the wrong things, the wrong things....

Tell me right now, you really wanna spend your whole life alone?

-Kanye West

So y'all already knew there was no way I cld let the fun, femme, f*@kery that is Let's Talk About Pep pass without saying something.

http://www.vh1.com/shows/lets_talk_about_pep/series.jhtml

I would have put it up yesterday, but I really REALLY wanted to use the assonance of Bewbie Tuesday, so I couldn't resist.

Let's skip over the fact one episode of this spectacular disaster included a DL dude w/a kit that CAUGHT ON FIRE, a hoodrat bagging up surf & turf to go, and a fat man w/a savory foot fetish and a limited food pallate to reference upon sucking the hoodrat's toes.

Really? Meatloaf? Your man couldnt've said her feet tasted like steak tartare?

Let's just skip all of that 'cause some of us chatted it up enough on twitter.

The part of the show I'm most fascinated by Jackie (of BET News) & Lamarr's (of Why Did I Get Married?) non-date-date exchange abt the friendship/baby daddy clause. Didn't see it?

Long & short is this:

A Professional woman wants a baby and has no spouse/significant other so she asks a non-intimate (yet fine-as-f*@k!gotdamnsamiamsamiam ) friend for his jizz so she can maintain her lifestyle & still have a small. (Small isn't an error. That's Mommy slang for babies)

I completely understand this theory.

While I don't want to be with a man who has a baby with someone else, I'll gladly have a baby with a well matched partner even if that renders him useless to another chick who subscribes to the same mentality I do. That's not my intended outcome, it just so happens to be a possibility. "You'll never get away from me...you can climb the highest tree...I'll be there somehow.." Sorry. I digress.

Don't cry for me Argentina.

I may not have any possible candidates for boyfriends/lovers/or husband, but I've got PLENTY of candidates for a baby daddy.

How can the two be mutually exclusive? You ask? Simple, young padwan, but you're going to have to sit through an anecdote first.

In undergrad over wings and Monday Night Football, I made a Best Friend's Wedding pact with a friend. Essentially what it stated was that if neither of us found someone else fool enough to marry either of us by 30something, we'd get hitched.

Half tipsy by this point, (come on, it was undergrad, when wasn't I on lean back then?) I shared the idea with another FRIEND (note the difference in how I wrote it. dude is one of my possible unicorns) who was there with us at our groups then weekly ritual.

Not one to be outdone, when the FRIEND found out about the pact, he made me pledge the same to him, but undercut our other friend by a few years and said by 30 the 2 of us would surely have worked through whatever issues we had and wld be able to begin our happily ever after. Aspiring lawyer that he was at the time, I think he even made me sign something, in crayon no less, so that I would keep my word.

Perhaps I should mention that he just happens to be an ex and one of my great loves. (What? I think that you have one great love for different times in your life. More on that in another post.) No matter what goes on in life, no matter where we live, we always seem to find each other again, even if ten years lapses in between. Ummm... yeah.... me and dude had/have a lil'bit of history....

Too bad my 1st husband beat him to it. ( BTW I've decided I prefer calling him my 1st husband rather than my ex. It has a nicer, more hopeful ring to it.)

The Best Friend's Wedding buddies did not stage a Dwayne Wayne-esque coup at my wedding, for fear of upsetting my mother always the eternal hostess. I found out after the fact she was hoping one of them would have done it.

I just watched this again and CRIED like it was my first time seeing it!

awwwww...

"Die! Just Die!!" lol

Since the decline of me & the Mr., my Best Friend's Wedding FRIEND has decided to reinstate the pact, adding a few years to our ages of course, but he's now upped the stakes and added babies to the mix.

The would-be-Dwayne Wayne said,

"If I'm going to be fool enough to have any babies, I'm going to have them with you. Over the years, we've had our differences, but I know for certain what a good mother you were and what a good mother you would be to any children we would have. "

Well now.....

I was flattered to say the least.

Maybe it was him saying this or maybe it was my proclamation of new & nearly single status, via every possible media available to me, but something seemed to open a mystical floodgate through which flowed MANY offers to be my baby daddy. Y'all think I'm playing?

"Come on Lauren, let's go work on (fill in the blank) Jr."

Or

"You should just let me seed you up real quick."

Or

"You know we'd have some cute ass babies.....my momma's always liked you."

The above listed have ACTUALLY been things I've heard from wanna-be-donors.

And Honey, 'round the holidays I got more than a couple of these texts, calls, or messages. Some were "just kidding like Jason, unless you gonna do it"

get it? It's a double pun 'cause Kidd's ex is on the show with Pep...tee hee...

Some were drunk and I was the last person they talked to before they got poured into a cab to go home, ALONE.

Damn! Do dudes have biological clocks that start to tick louder than ours? What gives? Why am I not disqualified by the Worst Case Scenario Rule? y'all know I'm a little off i just mask it under the guise of eccentricity.

How did I become the girl everyone wants to give a big belly to, but no one wants to be around to rub anti-stretch mark cream on sed belly (thighs and boobs too while you're bullsh*tting) in the interim?

I think this could be attributed to one of many possible factors:

A. I became an heiress suddenly and no one told me.
B. The chick(s) they were holding out for isn't coming around so I'm a viable 2nd or 3rd.
C. We ain't getting no younger, we might as well do it.
D. They never realized I was a Creole Macktress & what pretty eyes the babies might have
E. I, like wine and my momma, just get better, wiser, curvier, and evolve into a knockout, with age.

I'd like to think it's option E. (Though quietly & secretly if I'm gonna keep it all the way 100 with you, I'm hoping for A.)

I have a handful of guy friends that I ♥, share interests with, and that I have known FOR YEARS.

Other than psycing me on my grown woman thickness and teasing me on how I can still masquerade as a high school student, one of the compliments I am most often paid is how much I've calmed down and mellowed out since (insert whenever we dated.)

I still maintain my edge, my wit, my joie de vivre, but my temper and triggers have SIGNIFICANTLY mellowed thereby making me far more pleasant to be around, and muchmuch less of a nag or bore.

Hunh?

You mean part of the reason my relationships w/truly eligible unicorns fell apart at the seams was in part because of me? I was standing in the way of my own happiness? Hunh! Who knew?

But why do they wanna be my baby daddy and not my husband?

Again, partially my fault.

I don't know if you've met me or not, but I'm on the road to the lovely land of DIVORCE.

By no means am I bitter, but I am certainly a little shell shocked/gun shy about walking down towards somebody's altar again anytime soon. And, um, I haven't exactly been quiet or hesitant about saying that I don't know if I'm going to go that route again.

Yeah, I'm a little jaded, about marriage, but I'm also willing to admit it and I understand that about myself. Knowing is half the battle. Motherhood, for me, is a constant that has not been tainted, or disturbed or poisoned.

In my eyes, motherhood is could still a pure and unadulterated prophesy of my love for someone. It's one of the few things I have yet to do. Besides, look at how often I tweet, quote, or reference my Mommy on a regular basis. I want the chance to be that for someone else.

So, if I have so many fellas (take eeet eeeeeasy...it's not THAT many, TRUST) who ♥ to be around me, find me smart AND purdee, AND WANT to be around me for the rest of his life, 'cause let's face it, having a baby with someone is a longer sentence than marriage. You can get out of marriage, you can't get out of being someone's parent; by hook, crook, or checkbook, you're bound to the other people, child and co-parent, forever, then why am I doing dumb sh*t like lamenting abt being single, pining after an ex muse who doesn't deserve it, and signing up for Match.com? (BTW I never paid the registration fee. just couldn't bring myself to pay for pics of possibilities)

The thing is this, the Best Friend's Wedding pact is like the morning after pill; u know it's available, but it's not really the option you WANT to pursue and only will do so when in dire straits, like being 39 with nothing to come home to except your cats, your gays and your wine.

I'd like to think that somebody, somewhere is gonna ♥ me for me like Heavy Badiddly Dee and I'd like to find that person, enjoy that person, and we'll see where the fates take us. I'm not planning this year, remember? But if I don't, I'm glad to know I've got a few options for a plan B....As long as it's before I turn 36, which is when plan G for ghei, kicks in.

I've promised my eggs and or womb to a couple of Gay couples IF I don't have any babies of my own by then.

Save me your lecture on the decline of the modern family. You do you, and let me do me. I'm in the trenches DAILY with other people's children studying what works and what hasn't. I tried it the standard & traditional way & now I get to do it MY WAY. Plus. how else am I supposed to pass my good genes on to break future hearts?

SMOOCHES!!!!

SHINE ON!!!!

Bewbie Tuesday

today's post is all about edutaining. enjoy....

I was going through my blog roll and my eyes landed on the homie sister toldja's blog(http://thebeautifulstruggler.blogspot.com)

While I am an avid reader, I often don't leave comments.

Something always happens when I try to leave comments on people's blogs from the bberry. It usually takes me like 2 or 3 times to get my comment posted as articulately as I'd like it to. I remembered a post I wanted to comment on from a couple of months ago about bewbies:http://thebeautifulstruggler.com/2009/11/simply-breasts.html

Don't know what bewbies are?

Sound it out: bew-bies=boobies, bazooms, melons, mammaries, bazongas, tits, tetas, hooters, honkers, breasticles, chesticles, fun bags, jugs, sweater puppies, rack, tatas, the twins, the girls, titties, breasts.

As a Black woman of a certain age, I have let go of ALL of my body issues, and in growing more comfortable with my aging corpus, I've developed some new ones.

My greatest issue at present is with gravity. My favorite part of my womanform, my decolletage, are being affected by time, that sick bastard with a nasty sense of humor.

Throughout life, one body part I have always been comfortable with no matter what age I am has been my tatas.

I got them late, but when I got them, I wore them like a badge of honor. Back proudly arched forward, ribcage lifted permanently to the heavens.

I do pectoral exercises to make sure when I got old, I wouldn't look like a National Geographic photo spread.

A phrase hurled at me often by Mommy was

"Put those titties away. I don't wanna have to go and kill anybody's sons today."

I don't know if she meant to rhyme, being that she's a writer who appreciates the use of a good literary device like the assonance above just for fun, but it definitely gave the phrase longevity in my memory.

Even now, when I get dressed I run out to the living room to ask @lonnielm if I'm showing too much or just enough titty. My goal is always so be cute and coquettish, not desperate and auntie-ish.

As I aged, and my brickhouse started to fill out, though admittedly not as much as I would like, I started to dislike the attention having my perky partners in crime perched high and out for the world to see brought on. I learned, often the hard way, that there were some articles of clothing I should only rock when on the arm of a man. Yet and still, for years I had an almost fetish-like love affair with my twins.

My perspective on breasts changed most when in graduate school and not through some personal life experience.

I watched a performance by a woman who was chronicling her experience with breast cancer. The performance space was barren and she sat on a stool reading from notecards, think: vagina monologues for the breast cancer set.

What made the performance so poignant was that she was disrobing as she went through the performance until she was only clad in a dress shirt with a cutaway panel to display her masectomy scar. The performance was followed by a filmed montage of other women showing their scars.

Before this performance, I had never seen a masectomy scar before.

Instinctively, I grabbed my chest while watching...I ached in a way Ican't describe.

A few years later, my mother's best friend, was diagnosed with breast cancer.

My mother's best friend, who's nickname in high school had been Milkduds, was diagnosed with breast cancer and had to have a double masectomy.

to transform the scars from a thing of pain to a thing of pride, a mark of survival,

many women are covering the scars with tattoos

Did you know that when you have breast reconstruction they have to tattoo and skin graft nipples to make the new breasts look "real?" (Or else you look like a Barbie doll)

Did you know that women who don't breast feed are more likely to develop breast cancer than those who do?

Women who do not have babies are also more likely to develop cervical cancer too.

What does it all mean?

Is it some sort of natural selection from on high instructing us about what our gender predicated roles are and what the penalties are if we don't abide by them?

Gravity is not on ANYONE'S side right now as the age creeps further up in the double digits.

It's never too early to do a self check, get properly fitted for a bra and develop your pec muscles(reference the video above) to keep yourself looking young everywhere.

It's Bewbie Tuesday. Take care of your tatas! The boys will love you for it.

SMOOCHES!!!!

SHINE ON!!!