Today is not just like any other day. Each day that you arise you are granted another opportunity to LIVE, to be FREE, to be WHOLE, and to be YOU. Thank You Universe! Thank you Lord! Thank you Angels! Thank you Creator!
I often do the same things every morning … roll over several times, close my eyes, and wipe the sweat from my thighs (hoping that the half naked man in my dreams would reappear), slap and curse at the alarm clock (until I only have ten minutes to get dressed for work), do my wide arm and wide mouth stretch, hop out of bed and into the shower (allowing the steam to penetrate my skin), lubricate my body with my coconut oil concoction, grab my two-piece suit and kitty kat heels, put on a natural face (just a dab of Cover FX in Medium Deep just to shield the imperfections), cover my lips with Mac’s Cherish (one of the best nudes for women of color), run to the kitchen to grab a bottle of Bolthouse Farm’s Vanilla Chai Latte (may cause an orgasm in your mouth) from the frig, and make my way to the car (trying not to slam the door behind me). Dateless in Carolina never felt so theatrical.
Always remember that your life is your story … it’s your moment to be in the spotlight. You are the only one that can call ACTION! Be free to live without regret, without fear, and without knowing. You will never know what the world has in store if you don’t take a chance.
Spread your wings and Fly … Fly higher than the eagles that scamper through the clouds. Free yourself!
As a young child of color growing up in an all-white neighborhood in the south, I felt ashamed of my thick, kinky and sometimes unmanageable hair and my semi dark chocolate skin tone. I wanted to be just like the blonde and blue eyed girls in the neighborhood. I wanted to feel the wind’s breath against my effortlessly flowing mane, I wanted to play in the rain without scurrying for shelter, I wanted to lay out on the deck and allow the sun to kiss my skin, I wanted to swim in the neighbor’s pool without wearing a shower cap (chlorine would wreak havoc on a sista’s kinky and coily coif), and I wanted the boys to kiss me behind the oak tree. I remember rummaging through my father’s drawer for an over-sized t-shirt (every little girl wanted a makeshift mini dress), putting my mother’s nude colored panty hose on my head (to mimic hair past my waist), sneaking in her Mary Kay make up kit (grabbing the brightest shade of red), and tip toeing in her closet to find a pair of “The Lady in Red” stilettos. Too bad “selfies” didn’t exist in the early 80’s. Now, let me take a selfie!
I had a major identity crisis during my elementary school years … gender confusion was more like it. I wanted a long penis (just for the sword effect) and not a flat and boring vagina. I used to stand up by the toilet to pee only to realize my lousy va-jay-jay didn’t really have aim. I would watch in anger as urine ran down my legs. During those hot, hazy (especially after a torrential shower), humid summer afternoons, I would walk outside with no shirt on and lounge on the white cast iron porch furniture. Thank God I only had nipples the size of raisinets and a bare chest like a prepubescent boy. Ha! I was “confuzled.”
As I type this, “If I Were a Boy” by Beyoncé is continuously playing in my head. If I were a man, would my dating life be any different? If I were a man, would I carry the heartbreak from my past on my back? If I were a man, would I F&*^ like a wild animal with no emotion? If I were a man, would I think with the horny “midget” between my thighs instead of the cranium behind my eyes? If I were a man, would I allow her to reach her sexual peak before I reached mine?
But, I stand as a Woman … the better half of a man. I say this with my stilettos and MAC Ruby Woo in my hand, I AM WOMAN! Hear me ROAR!