Every now and then thoughts spill onto paper so fast that poetry has no rhyme, reason, or specific pattern. Poetry, like emotions can be running all over the place and yet be standing still at the same time. Whenever I have thoughts that can't be verbalized, I write them down, exactly as I feel them at that particular time. Sometimes it appears to makes sense to only me...but that is the beautiful thing about poetry...when you write from the heart...anyone in the same frame of mind will understand.
Sometimes you have to step back, evaluate every relationship you've ever been in, and then put into yourself everything that you put into another person. There is nothing wrong with expecting someone to love you the RIGHT way. If you truly LOVE yourself...and if someone can't love you with the same fervor in which you love yourself...The same fervor with which you love THEM? Why bother? Let them go and hold out for a love that deserves YOU.
Wasteland
By Ebony Farashuu
07/07/10
My body feels empty
Tears echo as they fall
Drip
Drip
Drip
Tiny droplets causing ripples that will forever change the ocean of my life.
The strife that dwells within me is constantly struggling with the logic of my mind
My heart is blind to the truth
Uncouth in its wicked deception
There is no contraception
That protects from unwanted despondency
My soul has been impregnated.
Damn I hate it when
My tough girl has fallen and I can’t pick her up.
My stagnant thoughts long to make my shell tougher
Exercise my ventricular muscles so my heart will be buffer
Pull myself out of this emotional mud when I’m stuck…
Fool myself into believing I just don’t give a fuck.
Men claim they want me
But I can’t trust a try
Cuz there’s still no one here to hold me when I cry…
And I
Just
Want the world to stop.
Pause for a moment
Let me catch the breath that keeps escaping
I’m scratching and scraping at my throat
Struggling for air
I’m choking on love that was never even there...
He said, he said, he said
They said
They lied
Sentiments were implied
I tried to separate fact from fiction
But mind fucking friction
Caused their words to converge upon my mind
Forming a topiary garden of pretty little lies
I could have handled the truth.
Showing posts with label relationships. Show all posts
Showing posts with label relationships. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Friday, April 23, 2010
Day 28...What's My Name? Take 2
I was raped.
I don't remember most of it but I do remember saying "No".
No means No, right? I mean, it's supposed to meant stop, cease, get away from me, leave me alone. Maybe it means something different when you've been drinking.
I was eighteen and I was so drunk and sick that there is probably still a vomit stain on my friend's carpet. I was so sick that night. It's hard to look attractive or be remotely flirty when you're lying in a pool of vomit. I'm not joking. I was literally lying in a pool of vomit with more vomit oozing out of my mouth as I lay there.
I'm sorry if my words aren't as pretty as they usually are but there are some things that just can't be said poetically. He walked into the room, took one look at an eighteen year old girl with vomit on her face and made a conscious decision to have sex with her that night. He made a decision to have sex with me. And because I was drunk, no meant yes.
Who was going to believe me? My parents were sympathetic but didn't know what to do. I'd already been hung up on by a call rape counselor who had probably spoken to so many rape victims that she forgot the most common courtesies afforded to most women in peril. She spoke to me on a speaker phone and the sounds in the background told me that the call had been forwarded to her home. There were sounds of children running and playing in the background as she walked around her kitchen banging dishes and running water. In between her household activities, she told me what would happen if I reported the 'incident'.
She explained the rape kit and that I would have to turn in the clothing I was wearing and how I would be heavily questioned and probably unable to answer any of the questions because I didn't remember anything about the 'incident' but the fact that I'd said no. How forceful was the no? Did i say it repeatedly? Did I fight? Is there a possibility that I eventually said yes?
I was silent for a while, crying on the phone. The call rape counselor, discouraged by my lack of words, hung up her speakerphone. I, discouraged by her many words, decided that maybe I wasn't really raped. Maybe the 'incident' was my fault.
I stopped talking about it and on the advice of people close to me, I decided to just chalk it up to one of those things that happened when I was drunk and be more careful next time. In other words, there was nothing anyone could do about it so the best thing to do was just forget it ever happened.
It's been almost twenty years and I still take three showers per day. Sometimes, I can still hear his voice and I have to squeeze my eyes a little tighter and scrub a little harder.
I'm not afraid of men, but I can definitely see how Ebony Nash, and then Ebony Taylor, allowed men to make her feel as is she didn't deserve to be treated as well as she treated them. I can see how foreceful and carefree and borderline mean I became when I allowed my alter ego, Ebony Farashuu, to take over.
I'm Ebony "MF'n" Farashuu. No one takes anything from me. I can replace any man who hurts my feelings or makes me mad...most of the time, within minutes. All it takes is a phone call.
For a little while,Ebony Farashuu ruled my world. She took no prisoners and she used what she had to get what she wanted and she usually got it. No one could TAKE from her and she gave only when she felt like it.
Ebony Farashuu is fun. She's flirty, she's pretty, she's talented, she's the one that the men chase because there is something about her that makes them wonder... what would it be like?
What would it be like to kiss her? What would it be like to touch her? What would it feel like to have her whisper poetry in your ear?
No one wonders about Ebony Nash. No one gives her a second glance because she's too busy taking three showers a day and hiding behind Ebony Farashuu.
And then I had to remember that there WAS someone who loved Ebony Nash. There was someone who never judged her or expected more from her than she was willing to give. I had to remember that on those cold nights when I took off my Farashuu and snuggled alone with my Nash, there was ALWAYS someone there with me as I cried myself to sleep at night.
God loved me no matter who I tried to be. And on another lonely, stress filled night, as I was about to let Ebony Farashuu express her frustrations....God intervened.
He sent an angel in human form and the first time my lips touched his, I knew that I was not only spiritually loved, I was physically loved. I could reach out and touch this love,I could see it in his eyes, I could see it in his actions, I could hear it in his words. He loved me. Not for who I pretended to be, but merely for who I was.
And suddenly...there are days when I only take one shower.
I'm Ebony Nash.
I don't remember most of it but I do remember saying "No".
No means No, right? I mean, it's supposed to meant stop, cease, get away from me, leave me alone. Maybe it means something different when you've been drinking.
I was eighteen and I was so drunk and sick that there is probably still a vomit stain on my friend's carpet. I was so sick that night. It's hard to look attractive or be remotely flirty when you're lying in a pool of vomit. I'm not joking. I was literally lying in a pool of vomit with more vomit oozing out of my mouth as I lay there.
I'm sorry if my words aren't as pretty as they usually are but there are some things that just can't be said poetically. He walked into the room, took one look at an eighteen year old girl with vomit on her face and made a conscious decision to have sex with her that night. He made a decision to have sex with me. And because I was drunk, no meant yes.
Who was going to believe me? My parents were sympathetic but didn't know what to do. I'd already been hung up on by a call rape counselor who had probably spoken to so many rape victims that she forgot the most common courtesies afforded to most women in peril. She spoke to me on a speaker phone and the sounds in the background told me that the call had been forwarded to her home. There were sounds of children running and playing in the background as she walked around her kitchen banging dishes and running water. In between her household activities, she told me what would happen if I reported the 'incident'.
She explained the rape kit and that I would have to turn in the clothing I was wearing and how I would be heavily questioned and probably unable to answer any of the questions because I didn't remember anything about the 'incident' but the fact that I'd said no. How forceful was the no? Did i say it repeatedly? Did I fight? Is there a possibility that I eventually said yes?
I was silent for a while, crying on the phone. The call rape counselor, discouraged by my lack of words, hung up her speakerphone. I, discouraged by her many words, decided that maybe I wasn't really raped. Maybe the 'incident' was my fault.
I stopped talking about it and on the advice of people close to me, I decided to just chalk it up to one of those things that happened when I was drunk and be more careful next time. In other words, there was nothing anyone could do about it so the best thing to do was just forget it ever happened.
It's been almost twenty years and I still take three showers per day. Sometimes, I can still hear his voice and I have to squeeze my eyes a little tighter and scrub a little harder.
I'm not afraid of men, but I can definitely see how Ebony Nash, and then Ebony Taylor, allowed men to make her feel as is she didn't deserve to be treated as well as she treated them. I can see how foreceful and carefree and borderline mean I became when I allowed my alter ego, Ebony Farashuu, to take over.
I'm Ebony "MF'n" Farashuu. No one takes anything from me. I can replace any man who hurts my feelings or makes me mad...most of the time, within minutes. All it takes is a phone call.
For a little while,Ebony Farashuu ruled my world. She took no prisoners and she used what she had to get what she wanted and she usually got it. No one could TAKE from her and she gave only when she felt like it.
Ebony Farashuu is fun. She's flirty, she's pretty, she's talented, she's the one that the men chase because there is something about her that makes them wonder... what would it be like?
What would it be like to kiss her? What would it be like to touch her? What would it feel like to have her whisper poetry in your ear?
No one wonders about Ebony Nash. No one gives her a second glance because she's too busy taking three showers a day and hiding behind Ebony Farashuu.
And then I had to remember that there WAS someone who loved Ebony Nash. There was someone who never judged her or expected more from her than she was willing to give. I had to remember that on those cold nights when I took off my Farashuu and snuggled alone with my Nash, there was ALWAYS someone there with me as I cried myself to sleep at night.
God loved me no matter who I tried to be. And on another lonely, stress filled night, as I was about to let Ebony Farashuu express her frustrations....God intervened.
He sent an angel in human form and the first time my lips touched his, I knew that I was not only spiritually loved, I was physically loved. I could reach out and touch this love,I could see it in his eyes, I could see it in his actions, I could hear it in his words. He loved me. Not for who I pretended to be, but merely for who I was.
And suddenly...there are days when I only take one shower.
I'm Ebony Nash.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Day 18...Letting My Pen Cry
Soul Ties
by
Ebony Farashuu
Consumed by
Thoughts of
What could have been
Should have been
Would
Have
Been…
Sure would feel good to sin
With you right now.
I’m being honest
To lie serves no purpose
God knows my heart
And in knowing
The truth is abundantly clear…
I let him go with no fear
But each tear
Reminds me that I’m physically alone.
And as strong as I wanna be
I can’t pretend to condone the breaking of my heart.
He was a part of me…
I feel his pain
Like
A phantom appendage
Long ago amputated.
Long ago amputated.
My bravado has mutated
Into momentary weakness.
I keep telling myself that I’m human
That
It’s okay to cry…
That
As time goes by
This will get easier…
I trust God to see me through
So why do I still want to boo hoo
When he crosses my mind?
Why is it so hard to be strong
One hundred percent of the time?
Why is this one percent
So much stronger than the other ninety-nine?
Sometimes I wish he would harden my heart
And loosen this constrictive twine
That ties our souls…
copyright 4/8/10
Ebony Farashuu
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Day 16...Losing "Weight"
Recently I shed some of my spiritual weight and in doing so; I gained a feeling of stability that I’ve never before experienced.
I Samuel 15:22 states:
“Has the LORD as great delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices, as in obeying the voice of the LORD? Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, And to heed than the fat of rams.”
So although the LORD does delight in our “sacrifices”, be it in the form of time spent sitting in a church pew, time spent in the community, tithes, etc… what he really wants is our OBEDIENCE.
If you read my previous Blog, you know that I had to let go of a relationship that meant the world to me. I am sad, of course, and I miss him, but I don’t feel the normal devastation that I usually experience after a break-up. Instead, I feel as if I’ve finally released some of my spiritual weight.
You see, I’ve never had a problem obeying the Lord as long as what he required of me fit into MY game plan.
The Lord said Love Andru, and I did. The Lord said, cherish Andru, and I did. The Lord said, help Andru, and I did. The Lord said, do not fornicate with Andru, and I said, “Beg your pardon?”
I realize now that I spent a lot of time picking and choosing which commandments to obey. When my children disobey me I punish them. It doesn’t mean that I don’t love them, it doesn’t mean that I don’t care, but I am the LAW in my house and my kids can either get with the program, or they can lose what they cherish most.
If it is so easy for us to lay down the law in our own homes…why is it so hard for us to OBEY the law that the ultimate Daddy has set before us?
Pastor Kimberly told me that the hardest relationship to be in is a Christian relationship. Why? Because the world will always be there to tempt us to do things that are reserved for married couples.
We agreed to remain celibate until marriage. That didn’t last long, but we still felt convicted enough to feel guilty about it and try again to resist temptation. Eventually, the convition and guilt fade away as we become comfortable in our sins. God didn't want that to happen to me.
Funny thing about God. Like any good parent, He loves us through our disobedience, but he’s not going to reward rebellious behavior. I wish my daughter WOULD blatantly disobey me and then turn around and ask me for five dollars.
Guess what. We play God like this every single day.
We sin against him and then expect him to bless us because we paid our tithes or because we haven’t missed a Sunday service in five years…guess what? You can go to Church every single Sunday and tithe 100% of your paycheck and God will look at you and ask, “What is this? A down payment on your sin? Do you think that you can do whatever you want as long as you give me a little time and some money?”
Almost sounds like we’re trying to PIMP God.
I tried to play God. I tried to pretend that as long as I asked for forgiveness everything was fine.
I can remember asking my ex-husband once, “Aren’t you sick of telling me that you’re sorry? Why can’t you just do right by me?”
Ironic isn’t it? We ask mere humans to give us the same level of respect that God expects of us…and yet we refuse to give it to him.
GOD loves me but I could only ignore him so many times before he decided to take away what I cherished. I’m not mad at him. I would have done the same thing to my own child. In fact, I have.
I cried off and on for two days but God has other plans for me. He told me that I can’t have a relationship with ANYONE until I establish a relationship with HIM.
Yesterday I woke up and went to Andru's Facebook page so that I could just look at his picture …only to find that his page was gone. After crying all night, I started crying all over again. Instinctively, I clicked on a Facebook application called “Message From God.”
The message said: “On this day God wants you to know that all is well. All is going according to plan. Trust that there is a bigger picture. Trust that life is unfolding as it should.”
So, I dried my tears and asked myself this question: "What good is obeying God if I don’t trust him enough to take care of me?" God knows what is best for me and it’s time for me to follow HIS lead.
I’m choosing obedience. What are you choosing?
I Samuel 15:22 states:
“Has the LORD as great delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices, as in obeying the voice of the LORD? Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, And to heed than the fat of rams.”
So although the LORD does delight in our “sacrifices”, be it in the form of time spent sitting in a church pew, time spent in the community, tithes, etc… what he really wants is our OBEDIENCE.
If you read my previous Blog, you know that I had to let go of a relationship that meant the world to me. I am sad, of course, and I miss him, but I don’t feel the normal devastation that I usually experience after a break-up. Instead, I feel as if I’ve finally released some of my spiritual weight.
You see, I’ve never had a problem obeying the Lord as long as what he required of me fit into MY game plan.
The Lord said Love Andru, and I did. The Lord said, cherish Andru, and I did. The Lord said, help Andru, and I did. The Lord said, do not fornicate with Andru, and I said, “Beg your pardon?”
I realize now that I spent a lot of time picking and choosing which commandments to obey. When my children disobey me I punish them. It doesn’t mean that I don’t love them, it doesn’t mean that I don’t care, but I am the LAW in my house and my kids can either get with the program, or they can lose what they cherish most.
If it is so easy for us to lay down the law in our own homes…why is it so hard for us to OBEY the law that the ultimate Daddy has set before us?
Pastor Kimberly told me that the hardest relationship to be in is a Christian relationship. Why? Because the world will always be there to tempt us to do things that are reserved for married couples.
We agreed to remain celibate until marriage. That didn’t last long, but we still felt convicted enough to feel guilty about it and try again to resist temptation. Eventually, the convition and guilt fade away as we become comfortable in our sins. God didn't want that to happen to me.
Funny thing about God. Like any good parent, He loves us through our disobedience, but he’s not going to reward rebellious behavior. I wish my daughter WOULD blatantly disobey me and then turn around and ask me for five dollars.
Guess what. We play God like this every single day.
We sin against him and then expect him to bless us because we paid our tithes or because we haven’t missed a Sunday service in five years…guess what? You can go to Church every single Sunday and tithe 100% of your paycheck and God will look at you and ask, “What is this? A down payment on your sin? Do you think that you can do whatever you want as long as you give me a little time and some money?”
Almost sounds like we’re trying to PIMP God.
I tried to play God. I tried to pretend that as long as I asked for forgiveness everything was fine.
I can remember asking my ex-husband once, “Aren’t you sick of telling me that you’re sorry? Why can’t you just do right by me?”
Ironic isn’t it? We ask mere humans to give us the same level of respect that God expects of us…and yet we refuse to give it to him.
GOD loves me but I could only ignore him so many times before he decided to take away what I cherished. I’m not mad at him. I would have done the same thing to my own child. In fact, I have.
I cried off and on for two days but God has other plans for me. He told me that I can’t have a relationship with ANYONE until I establish a relationship with HIM.
Yesterday I woke up and went to Andru's Facebook page so that I could just look at his picture …only to find that his page was gone. After crying all night, I started crying all over again. Instinctively, I clicked on a Facebook application called “Message From God.”
The message said: “On this day God wants you to know that all is well. All is going according to plan. Trust that there is a bigger picture. Trust that life is unfolding as it should.”
So, I dried my tears and asked myself this question: "What good is obeying God if I don’t trust him enough to take care of me?" God knows what is best for me and it’s time for me to follow HIS lead.
I’m choosing obedience. What are you choosing?
Friday, March 26, 2010
Day 5...Psalm 27
I really don’t feel like Blogging today and yet, here I am, typing away as if my life depends on it. Honestly, it does depend on it. Blogging is a commitment I’ve made to myself and I know that if I can push myself to maintain my normal routine on a day when I’m feeling under the weather, just imagine what I can achieve when I’m at 100 percent?
Too often I’ve used sickness or exhaustion as an excuse not to live up to my potential. I’ve lived with a victim mentality for far too long. I’ve allowed myself to dwell on the things that have happened TO me, instead of concentrating on making things happen FOR me.
I am sick as hell today. I have a horrible headache and I’ve been literally dealing with terrible nausea, vomiting, and other stomach problems ALL MORNING. All I wanna do is leave work and go back to bed, but if I allow myself to allow being sick to stop me from achieving my goals today…I’ve allowed sickness to happen TO me. Today, I am going to use my illness as motivation instead of a tool of procrastination. Today I’m going to look sickness in the eye and tell it to hit me as hard as it can…I’m a child of God and there is nothing an army of germs can do to keep me from my destiny. No weapon formed against me shall proper. I’m wearing God’s gas mask so just keep playing, devil. Your germ warfare ain’t got nothing on my God’s Grace.
Psalm 27:3, New Living Bible Translation:
Though a mighty army surrounds me, my heart will not be afraid. Even if I am attacked, I will remain confident.
Traditionally, this is how it happens. I start going to the Gym each day. I miss one day, and I get sick. If you read Day Three of my Blog, you will understand what I mean by that.
I pushed through Day three of my workout; however I skipped day four, not because I was being lazy, but because I had a very important task to complete.
My brother-in-law is marrying a wonderful woman and I love, love, love her. When she sent me a text asking for my help in making wedding invitations, I skipped my workout to make that happen.
This morning, I woke up sick. See…the devil sometimes uses sickness as a way to keep me from being at my best. For once, my first impulse was NOT to call in sick to work and climb back into bed. Instead, I brushed my teeth a few more times and drove to work. When my symptoms hit me again as I was sitting at my desk…I took a short break, did what I needed to do, and went back to work. I’m not leaving. I’m not running a fever, I’m not contagious.
When I felt that familiar “woe is me” mentality creeping into my thoughts…I went to Pandora.com and started playing my gospel radio station. When I surround myself with the WORD, nothing can approach that force field without being rebuked.
God has my back. I’m not ailing because He doesn’t love me. I’m ailing because He DOES love me and there is a valuable lesson that I need to learn right now.
I need to learn to keep praising Him through it all…and NOT give up.
Now, I’m no dummy. I understand that at some point during this day, I’m going to have to lie down and take care of myself. I know that I can’t go to the gym today. I know that I won’t be working in my garden this evening. But I’m not going to let that keep me from my goals. I can’t work on my physical today, but I can keep thinking positive thoughts and work on my MENTAL. I can pick up my Bible and work on my SPIRITUAL.
For some reason I keep being led to read Psalm 27. It’s as if God is constantly reminding me that I have nothing to fear. He’s carrying me through the lows and lifting my head above the clouds so that I can see the sunshine despite the rain.
Keep your umbrella. I’m covered by God.
Too often I’ve used sickness or exhaustion as an excuse not to live up to my potential. I’ve lived with a victim mentality for far too long. I’ve allowed myself to dwell on the things that have happened TO me, instead of concentrating on making things happen FOR me.
I am sick as hell today. I have a horrible headache and I’ve been literally dealing with terrible nausea, vomiting, and other stomach problems ALL MORNING. All I wanna do is leave work and go back to bed, but if I allow myself to allow being sick to stop me from achieving my goals today…I’ve allowed sickness to happen TO me. Today, I am going to use my illness as motivation instead of a tool of procrastination. Today I’m going to look sickness in the eye and tell it to hit me as hard as it can…I’m a child of God and there is nothing an army of germs can do to keep me from my destiny. No weapon formed against me shall proper. I’m wearing God’s gas mask so just keep playing, devil. Your germ warfare ain’t got nothing on my God’s Grace.
Psalm 27:3, New Living Bible Translation:
Though a mighty army surrounds me, my heart will not be afraid. Even if I am attacked, I will remain confident.
Traditionally, this is how it happens. I start going to the Gym each day. I miss one day, and I get sick. If you read Day Three of my Blog, you will understand what I mean by that.
I pushed through Day three of my workout; however I skipped day four, not because I was being lazy, but because I had a very important task to complete.
My brother-in-law is marrying a wonderful woman and I love, love, love her. When she sent me a text asking for my help in making wedding invitations, I skipped my workout to make that happen.
This morning, I woke up sick. See…the devil sometimes uses sickness as a way to keep me from being at my best. For once, my first impulse was NOT to call in sick to work and climb back into bed. Instead, I brushed my teeth a few more times and drove to work. When my symptoms hit me again as I was sitting at my desk…I took a short break, did what I needed to do, and went back to work. I’m not leaving. I’m not running a fever, I’m not contagious.
When I felt that familiar “woe is me” mentality creeping into my thoughts…I went to Pandora.com and started playing my gospel radio station. When I surround myself with the WORD, nothing can approach that force field without being rebuked.
God has my back. I’m not ailing because He doesn’t love me. I’m ailing because He DOES love me and there is a valuable lesson that I need to learn right now.
I need to learn to keep praising Him through it all…and NOT give up.
Now, I’m no dummy. I understand that at some point during this day, I’m going to have to lie down and take care of myself. I know that I can’t go to the gym today. I know that I won’t be working in my garden this evening. But I’m not going to let that keep me from my goals. I can’t work on my physical today, but I can keep thinking positive thoughts and work on my MENTAL. I can pick up my Bible and work on my SPIRITUAL.
For some reason I keep being led to read Psalm 27. It’s as if God is constantly reminding me that I have nothing to fear. He’s carrying me through the lows and lifting my head above the clouds so that I can see the sunshine despite the rain.
Keep your umbrella. I’m covered by God.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Day 1...
Okay. Let me start out by letting you know that although I’m not fat by a normal American’s standards, if I were to walk up to Tyra Banks and tell her that I was America’s next top model, she would look at me as if I’ve lost my damn mind. I used to be “model skinny”. At age 25, six months after having my son, I was wearing size 2 jeans out of the junior section of any given department store. Look at that skinny girl to the left! That is ME at age 25 and 12o pounds!
At age 37, the junior section is a thing of the past and my fourteen year old daughter is now wearing all of the things I wish I could still fit.
By age 35, I was still wearing a size two but this time, the size two was from the ladies section and not from the same section that my daughter shops in. Womanly curves had replaced the sharp angles of my stick figure and for the first time in my life, I felt fat. I don’t have an eating disorder but going from weighing 120 pounds post ba
by, to weighing 150 pounds was a huge transition for me. I got used to those curves and learned to LOVE the new womanly me but it was a process. The picture to the right is ME loving the hell out of some curvaceous ME at age 35 and 150 pounds!
I got no sympathy because, in the eyes of many, I was just another skinny bitch looking for attention. It was beyond their comprehension to understand my mental anguish.
Let me explain something to you…I weighed 150 pounds when I was nine months pregnant. Pardon me for being horrified at the thought of actually weighing in at 150 pounds without the excuse of pregnancy. It wasn’t normal for me and the fact that people were blowing off my concerns as simple attention seeking really pissed me off.
Today, at age 37, I stand in the mirror in my bra and panties and see a woman who, at 164 pounds, could definitely stand to lose a few. I will NOT be posting that pic, but WILL possibly show you some pics later! LOL. I don’t like what I see. If I keep trying to suck this gut in, I’m going to pass out and I’m sick of seeing my daughter prance around in all of the jeans and t-shirts that I was prancing around in just this past summer.
She’s like a vulture…biding her time, waiting on me to pull up my pants halfway and then toss them on the floor in disgust when I realize they don’t fit. She’s always right there, ready to pick them up, shake them out, and hang them in her closet.
The last straw broke this camel’s back a few days ago. I had just gotten out of the shower and oiled myself down. I went to put on my favorite pair of jeans and after five or six tugs it was obvious that even if I DID manage to pull those jeans over my hips, I was not going not be able to breathe in them.
I peeled the jeans off of my thighs and walked in the living room where my daughter was lounging on the couch talking on the phone.
Without a word, I tossed the jeans to her and walked out of the room.
“Yesssss,” I heard her say. “It was only a matter of time.”
It was only a matter of time. My own daughter was sitting around waiting on me to get fatter so that she could have my favorite pair of jeans. Pardon my French, but Ain’t that some shit?
My son stares at me with pity in his eyes when he happens to see me in any state of undress.
“Mama, I’m not trying not be mean but…when are you going back to the gym?”
His favorite past time is poking me in the stomach. I wonder if he think’s I’ll eventually say “woo hooo” like the damn ‘Pillsbury Dough Boy’.
My boyfriend, bless his heart. He loves me no matter what. He tells me that I’m beautiful every single day and that I don’t have to change for him. He means this with all of his heart, but I’ve allowed myself to become too comfortable in the perfection he sees when he looks at me.
I’ve gained that happy weight that has me looking in the mirror like “what the hell happened?”
I used to be a badmammajamma…now I just feel like I look bad in my clothes.
I used to STRUT everywhere I went. This morning, when I got off of the elevator, I simply walked slowly to my desk. I’ve lost my strut. I can’t do it anymore. I want ME back. I want my strut back, I want my confidence back. I want to once again, look in the mirror and say to myself, “You go girl!”
I know that I will. This Blog is the first step. It’s not just about looking good. It’s about FEELING good. I have high blood pressure, migraine headaches, and I am currently suffering with the side effects of Zoloft withdrawal.
Losing weight and working out, and prayer are the first steps I am taking to restore my physical and mental health. This Blog will chronicle that journey and you’ll get to see me mentally naked…the good, the bad, and the ugly. God is still working on me so I’m not going to censor this blog. I’m going to say exactly what is on my mind. You have been forewarned. Hopefully, not only will you see my progress physically and mentally as the days go by, but spiritually as well.
I want my life back, and this is day 1.
By age 35, I was still wearing a size two but this time, the size two was from the ladies section and not from the same section that my daughter shops in. Womanly curves had replaced the sharp angles of my stick figure and for the first time in my life, I felt fat. I don’t have an eating disorder but going from weighing 120 pounds post ba
by, to weighing 150 pounds was a huge transition for me. I got used to those curves and learned to LOVE the new womanly me but it was a process. The picture to the right is ME loving the hell out of some curvaceous ME at age 35 and 150 pounds!I got no sympathy because, in the eyes of many, I was just another skinny bitch looking for attention. It was beyond their comprehension to understand my mental anguish.
Let me explain something to you…I weighed 150 pounds when I was nine months pregnant. Pardon me for being horrified at the thought of actually weighing in at 150 pounds without the excuse of pregnancy. It wasn’t normal for me and the fact that people were blowing off my concerns as simple attention seeking really pissed me off.
Today, at age 37, I stand in the mirror in my bra and panties and see a woman who, at 164 pounds, could definitely stand to lose a few. I will NOT be posting that pic, but WILL possibly show you some pics later! LOL. I don’t like what I see. If I keep trying to suck this gut in, I’m going to pass out and I’m sick of seeing my daughter prance around in all of the jeans and t-shirts that I was prancing around in just this past summer.
She’s like a vulture…biding her time, waiting on me to pull up my pants halfway and then toss them on the floor in disgust when I realize they don’t fit. She’s always right there, ready to pick them up, shake them out, and hang them in her closet.
The last straw broke this camel’s back a few days ago. I had just gotten out of the shower and oiled myself down. I went to put on my favorite pair of jeans and after five or six tugs it was obvious that even if I DID manage to pull those jeans over my hips, I was not going not be able to breathe in them.
I peeled the jeans off of my thighs and walked in the living room where my daughter was lounging on the couch talking on the phone.
Without a word, I tossed the jeans to her and walked out of the room.
“Yesssss,” I heard her say. “It was only a matter of time.”
It was only a matter of time. My own daughter was sitting around waiting on me to get fatter so that she could have my favorite pair of jeans. Pardon my French, but Ain’t that some shit?
My son stares at me with pity in his eyes when he happens to see me in any state of undress.
“Mama, I’m not trying not be mean but…when are you going back to the gym?”
His favorite past time is poking me in the stomach. I wonder if he think’s I’ll eventually say “woo hooo” like the damn ‘Pillsbury Dough Boy’.
My boyfriend, bless his heart. He loves me no matter what. He tells me that I’m beautiful every single day and that I don’t have to change for him. He means this with all of his heart, but I’ve allowed myself to become too comfortable in the perfection he sees when he looks at me.
I’ve gained that happy weight that has me looking in the mirror like “what the hell happened?”
I used to be a badmammajamma…now I just feel like I look bad in my clothes.
I used to STRUT everywhere I went. This morning, when I got off of the elevator, I simply walked slowly to my desk. I’ve lost my strut. I can’t do it anymore. I want ME back. I want my strut back, I want my confidence back. I want to once again, look in the mirror and say to myself, “You go girl!”
I know that I will. This Blog is the first step. It’s not just about looking good. It’s about FEELING good. I have high blood pressure, migraine headaches, and I am currently suffering with the side effects of Zoloft withdrawal.
Losing weight and working out, and prayer are the first steps I am taking to restore my physical and mental health. This Blog will chronicle that journey and you’ll get to see me mentally naked…the good, the bad, and the ugly. God is still working on me so I’m not going to censor this blog. I’m going to say exactly what is on my mind. You have been forewarned. Hopefully, not only will you see my progress physically and mentally as the days go by, but spiritually as well.
I want my life back, and this is day 1.
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