Can I be me

Acceptance is such a crazy thing, and learning how to accept yourself is the first step. Attempting to convince people to accept you is an even bigger leap. I have decided to stop. Stop explaining. Stop convincing. And stop trying to be socially acceptable. I'm going to be me. Confused, lonely on Tuesdays, reality show queen, hyperactive in the morning, emotionally distraught on Thursday, evil five days out of the month. Self-absorbed, if thats what you call it. You know what, your right. I'm a little self-indulgent. So are you, during that time of the month. I choose to be this way 24 hours a day. Am I wrong? Am I a bad person for being me? While you walk around in those panty hose, and that too long skirt with your momma's girdle on. I'm running bare. Yes, I said it. Full commando. Do I care what you think? Hell no!! I'm be so who are you gonna be!

The traditional mom

You wake up at 6:30a.m. You brush your teeth. You make your bed. The children clothes are ironed and placed neatly at the end of their beds. Children get dressed, breakfast is made and then you are on your way to school. Jimmy forgot his book bag, so you drive all the way home, and then back again. You go home watch Ellen, then Dr. Oz, then the View. Time to make dinner. Take a nap. Pick the kids up. Do homework. Play outside. Eat dinner. Make love. Watch TV. Go to bed. The traditional mom is traditional, and any little interruption in her conventional life will throw her off, the kids off, and definitely the husband off. I think sometimes as mothers we dream to have the peace and comfort of a story book home, but miss out on spontaneity. That forgotten book bag becomes the excitement in her life. She becomes afraid to even wear red nail polish. She wants to of course, but she won't. It's not traditional, its not normal to her. Her hair has been worn the same way for the last five years. Every day is like a scheduled 3rd grade class. But this morning I think she will paint one toe red.

Time for a BBQ

Crazy story. Okay you may not have figured it out yet, but yes I am a Diana Ross diva not a Celine Dion diva. The other day the diva in me was tested, and it was not pretty. Here's the story. Okay, I was trying to cool off. My hair was turning a little un-diva like if you know what I mean. I decided to go into the country club in our community to cool off, and get a refreshing can of soda pop. When I was almost pushed out the door, by some old man of the creamy complexion, because his wife got sick on some sort of boat ride. He yells, "Get out, Get Out!" I'm like, I live here fool. His supposed sick wife, then yells "I don't care if your the nurse, get out." Okay. Okay. Okay. It took the Jesus in me, not to act like my cousin Mookie. For real. For real. For real. He actually even grabbed my shoulder, and tried to turn me around and push me out the door. I was thinking 1. Don't we have a black president. 2. If I knock the sh*t out of him isn't that self-defense. 3. We own two dang on homes up in this piece, can I get some respect. Lastly, where is Al Sharpton when you need him. I couldn't believe it. I left somewhat quietly after a nicer man of the creamy complexion explained to me that the woman was ill and needed assistance. I definitely knew she needed something, and I would not have hesitated to give it to her and her husband if he would let me. However, I decided to remember what the preacher said in the last sermon I heard. "Be the better person," so I did. But I was planning on calling HOA (HUMAN beings who should just be happy to OWN a home, and leave me the fu*k ALONE association). Of course, they didn't go ringing on the door bell, like they do us (if you know what I mean). But I had something in store for HOA, and the Mean Old Man of the creamy complexion and his Drama Queen wife. I
I asked myself what would Diana Ross do? She would turn a lemon into lemonade, a problem into a party. So, on the 4th of July when everyone plans on being at the pool and getting their daily tan. I will be inviting my family from Baltimore. You know the cast from the hit movie the Wire. We will have hip hop music, crab potato chips, prison tattoos, might even pass around some pigs feet since we are in the south. Plus, uncle Mike loves pigs feet, and one thing we will not have is some sun block. We are definitely going to let that Black shine on 4th of July. How do you like that!