Seeking Charles Christmas 4: A Crush No More

I'm sad to report that my secret obvious love for Charles Christmas is no more. The thrill is gone. The fantasy is broken. 

Last night, I was scrolling on social media and came across the profile of a girl we will call Lizzy. It looks like she is a fitness/bikini/foodie influencer. She is petite with an impossibly small waist and a full, perfect booty. She is very pretty and has a lot of hair. Much of her content includes her crossing intersections with a close-up on her jiggling behind, and it looks like Charles Christmas has liked a number of her posts. Talk about getting a needle stuck in your balloon. 

Part of having a good crush is the dream ( or possibly the delusion) that you and the other person could one day be together. That hope was dashed today when I saw his manic liking of a good deal of this girl's posts. She is clearly the type of woman he would be in to. They are both incredibly fit. I could see her loving his crazy gym where people bear crawl across the floor and run with weights on their backs. 

"He may have liked her posts because he knows her," Lisha offered. Possibly. Or, more likely, I simply witnessed a case of like attracting like. As much of a hater as I want to be, it does make more sense that he would be into a woman that meal preps and works out daily. 

With that being said, I must bid ado to Charles Christmas. I'm hurt I'm not his type, but what can anyone do about that? I will continue to watch the videos of him pumping iron though. I don't have to have abs and a good weave to do that. 

Oh God!

The country is at war. There are rumors of more. Threats of bombings. Healthcare disparities. Mass layoffs. Murders. Addiction. Environmental injustice. Racial tensions. The other day, I was watching a clip of a conservative influencer on Instagram where she said that Jesus was White. Yes, that Jesus...of NAZARETH! The current state of things has me wondering what God must be thinking. I mean, nothing is new under the sun, and He knows all things, but he has to be like, "What is wrong with these people?! I gave them my only son and a book for guidance, and they still can not get it together!" I hate to be morbid, but I even think about judgment day. P is Muslim, and he says that the judgment starts as soon as you die. I imagine going up to the Heaven line and hearing God yelling at souls, saying things like, "I never said that!" "Now you are reaching!" "Your skin color is just your skin color! How were you judging folks off of it?!" "Duh! What did you think I meant when I said you were all my children?" I bet the fear and shame will be thick enough to cut with a knife. 

I guess nothing will get you thinking about the afterlife like social decline and unrest. My old minister once asked what we would do if we came to church and our lives were being shown on a big screen, even our private moments? If I get to the pearly gates and God has a big old flat screen and a remote, I am going to scream! 

No one in my circle is unimpacted by the current state of affairs. Yet, it is easy to feel helpless because it feels like there is nothing to be done, and we all have to wait out the crazy. You can't think about all the bad things all of the time, but you can't ignore them either. So what is the verdict for the God-fearing girl who has high anxiety about the afterlife but who also enjoys a good little white lie every now and again? I guess all that is left is prayer. I'm so desperate to see a change in what is going on that I may even pray to White Jesus as well. 

The Mixed Signals of Male Responsibility

If I'm wrong, correct me, but wasn't it not that long ago that men were talking about how much they wanted an independent woman? Didn't Ne-Yo even make a song about it, "Miss Independent"? I swear it wasn't even 10 years ago when men pushed women into the world of going dutch on meals and half on rent. Men were literally saying that having any responsibility towards women was making their booties itch, and the word "provider" became up for interpretation. Boy have the tides changed!  Now, a growing community of men want a housewife who gives them full control over their lives. They now not only want to be your man, but your dad as well! This realization hit me like a bag of bricks during a conversation with Coffee. He discussed very eloquently how a woman's real value is in being a wife, and he would exercise full veto power over anything she may want to do. I mean, parts of the conversation were out-and-out jaw dropping and no, he wasn't kidding. He even said that he'd refuse to marry a woman who ever told him he couldn't tell her what to do. According to him, a woman with that attitude would rather be single. He even seems to hold great disdain for Miss Independent qualities like wanting to travel or have a say. I mean, what's going on??

The word on the curb is that the Boss Babe era is over and now the younger generation of women would rather be trad wives than CEOs. This may be true for some, but I suspect these things come in cycles. 10-20 years from now, those women will be complaining about feeling suffocated in the home, financially deprived, and wanting to get out and work. I guess it's a testimony to how well women fought for rights that today's younger girls don't even remember forced home life to the point that they want to return to it. Whoever said history repeats itself wasn't joking, but can we return to a time of gaucho pants and not to one of female suppression? 

P made a good point the other day: I'm old. He said hopefully, as the old women die off, the world can get back to a point of female obedience. I resent this idea that women have to be Stepford Wives for men to feel powerful, but that's where we are.  As the women's right to abortion has been revoked and our right to vote is now up for discussion, it saddens me to see women eagerly walk off the side of the cliff and siding with this extra toxic form of patriarchy. I guess I should be excited about this as a feminist. If feminism is about making your own choices than these young trad wives are making the choice to be incredibly dependent on a man independently. 

A Wrinkle in Face

Today, a nurse told me that I have a baby face. This is something that I have been told my whole life. I guess that is why I was so dramatically devastated when I found my first wrinkle in the corner of my mouth. 

"That is not a wrinkle, that is a crease," my aunt said, observing my face closely. Isn't that what a wrinkle is? A disgusting, unwelcome crease?

I have discussed before how full of myself I was in my 20s. I thumbed my nose at any type of plastic surgery. I felt sorry for women who would permanently change their faces. I even got holy with it, saying that it was a sin because we are all made in God's image. Getting so much as a nose job was like telling God that you thought He was ugly, or at the very least, could have done a better job. My tune has changed over the past few years. If my looks begin to fall off, I want every plastic surgeon in Georgia with even an ounce of talent to tap dance on my face! 

Years ago, I saw an interview with the late, great Joan Rivers. And she said that the only thing that mattered was looking good. I won't say that it is the only thing that matters, but it is important, and admitting this is a testimony of the world's vanity as well as our own. I am very realistic with myself. Some may even say that I am harsh with myself. I know that I am very overweight. I know that some changes have to be made there. But I have always thought I was pretty, even when others made it clear that they did not. I even find that my prayers are changing. I pray that God protect the world and bring peace, and also bring peace and protection to my face. Amen. 

Like many middle-aged women before me, I have begun to research facial products and what would work best for me. I am finding myself on the side of any snake oil that says anti-aging right in the title. There's no time to play, gotta get to work. I committed to letting this first wrinkle be the last. 

NO!

I am proud to report to you that my 2-year-old niece is a tough cookie. When she doesn't want to do something, she stomps her little foot, crosses her arms, and shouts no at the top of her lungs before running off. This is obviously a behavior that needs to be corrected, yet when she does it, I feel a sense of jealousy. Her response is the response that I want to have to just about everything in my life. 

You see, I find myself in a consistent state of shock over how overwhelming adulting is. Being grown is nothing like how I imagined it as a child. Every day was supposed to be like some version of a Living Single episode. Only, my version was going to include more money and sex and travel. Surprise, this Khadijah is not living that life at all.  But I am single. I guess that is a small win. 

I think of this when I see my niece acting out, and I often wonder what it would be like to respond to the world as she responds to me when I say she can't have another cookie. 

The World: Holly, apply for more jobs that will not call you for an interview. 

Me: No! 

The World: Holly, do something with your hair before you end up with an enormous dreadlock. 

Me: No! 

The World: Holly, please complete all tasks in a reasonable manner so that you don't have to rush. 

Me: NOOOOOOO! 

Instead of stomping out of the room, I tend to roll over and take a good nap, then wake up and stream a movie. There is no solution other than doing what I need to do, you know, adulting, so sometimes, I rather just clock out and dream about my once dreamt about sitcom life. But you can't stay asleep forever. Believe me, I've tried. So at some point (you'd think it would have been before middle age), I am going to have to get up and pull up my big girl undies and do something about my life. But don't ask me to be excited about it because the answer is no! 

Revelations and Realizations

The older I get, the more I get to know myself. I guess that should go without saying, but this may not be the case for everyone. And I find that the things that I am realizing about myself are things that I should have realized years ago. For example, I used to think that I got seasonal depression during the holidays, but I now realize that I get a version of it before every season change, and it manifests as deep mourning. I have been thinking about my late grandma a lot, and experiencing sadness over lost friendships. Risky Business called me this morning and told me that she realized today, at 40 years old, that every man she has been in relationship with, both serious and otherwise, has come out of her friendship circle. You would think that she would have noticed this two decades ago, but I guess it is never too late for a lightbulb moment. I think that as long as we are having these lightbulb moments, we still have an opportunity to change and make ourselves better. In my case, I can continue to work on ways to deal with loss until it doesn't feel as heavy. Maybe Risky can go out on a limb and find a date that isn't a bestie. In my mind's eye, we will continue to prune ourselves until we are finally complete...or close to it. I can't wait to see what that will look like. 

A Change In The Side Tide

Coffee has lost his favorite woman in his rotation. She got a new gig and she's headed up north. He said he's okay with it, that nothing ever stays the same. But I found myself thinking, Man. I wish there was a condolence card for this. 

I love sending and receiving cards, which is pretty much a dying art. Outside of Christmas cards, no one really takes the time to buy cards and make them personal anymore. But what if the cards addressed more modern issues like getting laid off, having to sign up for the draft, or losing your favorite rotation woman? I think a revamp of cards in this way could be encouraging! 

Your favorite side got a new gig

She moved up north and hit it big 

And although she's no longer yours in this way

I'm sure you will find a replacement any day. 

Befriending Coffee has shown me the blood, sweat, and tears that goes into keeping a steady, healthy rotation. It's not some easy, breezy process. A lot of time and skill is involved, so a loss in the stable should be addressed with kind words and top notch stationary stock. Shouldn't we support our friends in all phases of life? Just an idea.