The Waiting Game

My period was three weeks late. I know, T.M.I. 

And, like any woman who has had a period come late, I was majorly freaked out and panicked. Believe me when I tell you that I was mere moments away from going outside and running into traffic! In hindsight, I see that this was all part of my ever-getting-increasingly-horrible PMS, but what are you going to do?

I called any friend that would answer the phone to ask them to pray that my period would hurry up and come because not getting it on time makes me incredibly anxious and scared. And they all pretty much gave me the same response: "You aren't pregnant, so why do you care?" Um, what?! I have been getting periods every month since I was 11-years-old. Forgive me if it not coming in a month rubs me as curious on the low end and horrific on the high end. But you won't believe what I discovered in talking to my friends. I have some homies that have gone two and three months without having a period before and they were not pregnant. Is that not crazy?!

Mere hours before my period actually came, I was feeling pretty down and hopeless. "Maybe I am going into menopause," I said with a deep sigh as I talked to P on the phone. 

"It's not menopause," he said, assuredly, "but you may be on  your way there. I mean, you are almost 40."

He was not with me for me to punch him in the face, so I just screamed silently as he changed the subject about something guyish that I didn't care about. As he rambled on and on I thought about what he had said. What if he was right? He is a nurse after all. What if I was sliding on the banana peel towards middle age? I mean, is that possible? I can remember so clearly being in college and goofing off with my friends. And what about babies? True enough, I do not want kids. But for some reason it dawned on me that I did want to be married while I was still young enough to have them. I guess so that people could see that I was childless not because I am old, but by choice. Is that stupid of what?

After I got off the phone I cried and cried, mourning my lost period and my youth. Sooner than later, I imagined myself in a cold gynecologist's office, going over hormone replacement therapy and how to address vagina dryness. I though of my grandmother, who had gotten a hysterectomy. She was the picture of femininity; however, every few weeks, she would ask me to help her pluck her chin hairs. Was I going to get chin hairs? I cried myself to sleep, only to wake up an hour later to go to the bathroom and discover that Aunt Flo had arrived, unapologetically late. I sighed a sigh of relief. I was young for another month. 

Rona Stress

I know that we all have experienced varying levels of stress and even mania during this seemingly never ending quarantine. Who didn't see the live videos in the beginning of folks fighting over toilet paper and cleaning wipes? At that point, I was waking up in the middle of the night and disinfecting the door knobs and toilet seats. Now, with threats of a third wave of crazy infection numbers on the rise (How did I miss the second wave?), I find that my Rona stress has increased to new heights of nutty. 

A friend of mine got Rona earlier this summer. His roommate gave it to him and the other three boys that live in their apartment. He didn't get outrageously ill. He didn't end up having to go to the hospital or anything like that. But he has lost his ability to taste and smell. I hear that this is a common symptom. But his roommates have gotten there senses back and he has not. It has been over a month. 

After hearing this, I found myself licking seasonings off of my hands to make sure that I could taste them. This was followed by a banana, blueberries, a teaspoon of BBQ sauce, and a protein shake. Once I was sure that my sense of taste was in order, I found myself nose first in the dryer sheets, trying to make sure that I smelled those. Then I sprayed Lysol and perfume to smell them until I almost made myself puke! 

This is life in RonaWorld. You either have spazz outs like me or you go to bars without your mask on as if it is 2019 and you can still party like it's 1999. Some people fall in the middle. All of us are over it. 

Well. Until next time. Those jalepenos in the fridge aren't going to lick themselves. 

Don't Be Anal

Izzy and her sortabae, let's call him Joe, are about as complicated as complicated can get. Their texts to each other are these mind bending, incomprehensible riddles that leave each of them guessing and scratching their heads. I can't tell you the amount of brain power that she and I have invested into trying to figure out what he meant, and how much time she has put in to sending him messages that are just as confusing. 

But today the texts got shockingly clear. Joe says that he likes her, that he thinks that she may be "the one", but certain needs of his aren't being met...like anal sex. 

I found myself laughing uncontrollably. Apparently, I am one of the last folks on earth that thought anal sex wasn't an actually thing. But it wasn't a joke, and Izzy saw his response to be a door opening to relationship negotiations. 

"If I am going to do that, than we are going to have to start going on dates. He is going to have to start hugging me more and responding more to my texts," Izzy said, outlining her list of demands. 

Again, I was at a loss for words. But only for a second. "Are you serious? Girl, nothing is worth literally giving up your booty!" I shouted. 

I know that in relationships, you have to compromise, but geez, aren't we supposed to draw the line somewhere? Izzy insists that more people are into it than I think. This could be true. I didn't think that people were really into French kissing but I was wrong about that. I guess my question is this: once that is given up, what is next? Izzy says that saying that she will do it and stringing him a long is still on the table. I don't know. I don't see a man that is really into that letting it go if he doesn't get it. But again, I've been wrong about these things before. 

Hurt Feelings

For about a week, I had a crush on a dude named Jackson that I went to college with. I thought he was cute even then, but I was a freshman and he was a senior. To say that we ran in different circles is an understatement. 

These days, Jackson is more of a computer love. I pretty much stalk him on Facebook. At almost 40, he spends his days making sexest and socially irresponsible posts, that is, when he isn't posting videos of Instagram models twerking in bathing suits. I can't say that Jackson is likable because he isn't really. Ladies you know what he is: he is that guy that you can't stand that just happens to be hot. But of late, I have felt kind of numb to the world, so having a crush felt nice. Something about liking someone makes your heart feel full. 

But all things have to come to an end. My crush was coming to a slow down just two days in when he made some ridiculous, double standarded (new word) posts about female sexuality. He is the type of guy that places unrealistic and unfair purity standards on women while he slides in DMs and most likely sleeps with anyone who will give him the time of day. I know, sexy. 

I was talking to P about his crazy posts today and P goes, "I remember this guy. I was eating lunch at his table once while we were in school and you walked into the cafe and he called you a fat bitch."

Just as he said this, it sounded like a car was crashing in my ears, and I got a weird feeling in my chest. It didn't alarm me as random chest pains often do because I remembered the feeling. I hadn't felt it in a while but it was very familiar: my feelings were hurt. 

I got off the phone and took a two hour nap so that I wouldn't cry and woke up to a text from P. He apologized for telling me. I said it was cool. I mean what can I do? Go on FB and curse Jackson out for something he said about me when I was 18? That would be silly. Yet, as old as the remark is, it still hurt my feelings. 

Sea Salt & Sunshine Recipe from Jana Blankenship

Dry skin is a nightmare for so many of us during the fall and winter months. Luckily, Jana Blankenship, founder of Captain Blankenship products and author of Wild Beauty: Wisdom & Recipes for Natural Self-Care, has the recipe for smooth, hydrated cold weather skin. 

Sea Salt & Sunshine Scrub Recipe 

YIELD: 8 OUNCES

INGREDIENTS

• 1 cup fine sea salt, or mix of fine and medium grain
• 1⁄4 cup coconut oil, or more as desired
• 1⁄2 teaspoon vitamin E
• 20 drops sweet orange essential oil
• 10 drops lemongrass essential oil
• Optional: 1 tablespoon shea butter

 

ADDITIONAL EQUIPMENT

8-ounce glass jar with lid

 

INSTRUCTIONS

Mix ingredients together in bowl with spoon. (If coconut oil is hard, you can melt quickly and add to mixture once cool. If you want to add shea butter for even more nourishment, do the same thing.)

Once mixed, with spoon, scoop scrub into jar with lid.

Use once or twice weekly or as desired; by rubbing salt with dry, clean fingers in circular motion all over body and feet.

Rinse well.

If stored out of direct sunlight, will keep for up to a year (if water is kept out of jar).

Bacardi Mai Tai Recipe

BACARDÍ MAI TAI

INGREDIENTS:

·        1.5 oz BACARDÍ Añejo Cuatro rum

·        0.75 oz Orange Curacao

·        0.5 oz Lime Juice

·        0.75 oz Orgreat

·        Orange Bitters

METHOD: Shake and serve over crushed ice in a tiki mug. Garnish with a dehydrated orange wheel and/or mint sprig

2 Types of Girls

You should be proud of your girl! I am finally- after five years of irritation, loss, depression, obsession, anxiety, laziness, and tomfoolery- making moves to get my life together. And those life coach blogger Youtube ladies on Instagram are not kidding: making a change in your life is hard. It is taking a little bit of patience and a lot of Jesus, but I am in-cre-men-tally seeing some positive changes. Izzy thinks that my road to self-repair could end quicker if I just got a man. 

"Izzy," I tried to explain as calmly as I could, "I don't have  my own place, my dream job, or two pennies to rub together. When and if I get a man, I want to be an addition to his life, not a drain."

"I get it," she said, but she doesn't. "But I'm telling you, a man could help you with some of these things."

I sighed deeply. Sadly and unfortunately, I was going to have to have an uncomfortable conversation with my beautiful yet naive friend. 

"Izzy," I began, "you have been in some type of relationship consistently since I met you...when we were 18. And you have dated the type of men that will come through and help you in a crunch. But it's not like that with men in my life. They typically want to use me for something." And this is true. I am reminded of the guy who came over to my old apartment, acting as if he wanted to hang out, but he really just wanted to burn CDs on my computer. 

"But aren't all men users though in some way?" she asked. 

She wasn't making the conversation easy. So I just had to tell her the hard truth. There are two types of girls in this world: the ones who will always have a man swooping in to save the day and the kind that never will. 

Let me say that I am NOT being down on myself. I am finally at a place where I feel that I am super attractive and I understand my value. But you can not debate with me what I already know and have learned through experience. We could go back to high school. I remember when my friend Tray was holding the door open to the school for all the pretty, skinny girls as they got off the bus. Then he let it slam in my face. Working at fast food joints after school, the cuter girls were able to flirt their way into the work schedules they wanted while I was stuck working holidays. And by college, the "2 Types" theory became painfully obvious. I spent the whole four years paying for my own drinks and dragging my own groceries into the dorm. Aw, to be in my 20s again. 

I imagine that their would be some relief in some guy coming in and helping me. To be honest, I have secretly wanted that over the years so it wouldn't feel like I was taking every punch on my own. But I have to say, I am eager to see how well I get myself out of my hole. I am eager to see myself show up for myself. Some smiling lady on Twitter with a bunch of followers said that showing up for yourself builds confidence and we could all use some of that. If I can get out of this hole, I may just mess around and become the most confident woman on earth, even without a man on my side. 

Desperate

I just want you to hear it from me first: if one more of my amazing, boss, beautiful, wonderful girlfriends hooks up with a loser guy, I am going to shave my head! When I was in my 20s, I used to think that men my own age were immature and irresponsible, so I could not wait to date men in their 30s. Now I am in my 30s and my friends are dating men our age and up, and I really can't tell them apart from the boys that I used to crush on in college! And neither can my friends! I mean, can you imagine dating a man over 40 who has poor communication skills, still wants hookups and doesn't returns texts? It's disappointing. But more disappointing than their behavior is my friends' willingness to put up with it. Lique explained why to me during our recent catch up call. 

"Your friends are getting desperate," she explained to me. She understands because she is a couple of years older than me and has been there and done that when it comes to 30-something homegirls dating douche bags. "They want to be married, and they are settling for men that they never would have got with before."

She told me a horrifying story about her CEO homegirl that, out of nowhere, started dating one of these low-end man children. She said this guy took her friend to a motel, not a hotel, for a hookup that went south when they checked into the room and found human feces on the carpet. Can you imagine?! But never you worry. This friend has found another man who she now almost completely supports financially. 

I just want to run outside and scream, "What is going on?!" It's like nature gone loco! 40% of my time is spent explaining to my friends why they should not be crying over men whose idea of commitment is asking for their Netflix passwords only to watch Anime and complete ruin their suggestions. Who was it that told women that that it is nearly hopeless to find love with a real contender over 30? I don't believe that that is true! But I do believe that dating bad guys can leave you with a stench that repels good ones, and right about now, my friends are sticking like that motel room carpet. 

Do you all pray that your friends find love? I do. I pray that they find love with men that can have a conversation and that isn't afraid of someone real. At the very least, I pray that he can pay for his own Netflix. 

Zoya Tobey Is Back!

Zoya Tobey is this amazing, vibrant pink that is only here for a limited time! Use the code Tobey to get her free with any purchase at Zoya.com and hurrey! She will be leaving at the end of the month and won't be back until next summer. 

 

The Divorce

Izzy is getting a divorce. Well, not officially, but she is well on her way. She has moved with her kids across the country and is now looking for a lawyer. She is over it and beyond stressed. She calls me for support and sometimes I have no idea what to say. Everything I know about divorce I learned from Lifetime Movies! 

Yet Sally Fields and Tori Spelling are nowhere to be found in this drama which includes entanglements of the Jada Pinkett Smith variety, calling the police, email snooping, text spying, fighting, car keys hiding, sleep deprivation, credit card canceling, and a Kantana sword. This is real life, and I have never been good at that. 

This is so weird for me, because I remember when Izzy and her husband were happy and very into each other. They could not go out in public without passionate French kissing and butt slapping. Now he has changed his number and she has crossed about 20 states to get away from him. 

I was reading in The Bible just last weekend that Jesus is not down with divorce. Like, really not down with it. But I can't imagine He would be down with Izzy and her husband bringing their kids up in a situation that was becoming more and more loco by the day. 

I want my friend to be happy. Life is too short to be miserable. But it is still unbelieve to me how two people can be so in love one minute and resent each other the next. At the end of the day, a lot of money will be spent for funds, custody, and properties to be split, then for each person to go their separate ways and act like they never met. It almost makes you wonder if it is worth the risk. 

Izzy thinks so. She is already looking forward to finding a new forever love, one that is forever for real, minus the lies and calls to 9-1-1/.

Queen Communication

I graduated from college with a degree in Communications which I can't even believe, knowing  how poor my communication skills were back then. There were so many spats that I got into with my friends that were made worse due to my inability to communicate like an adult. That was then. Today, at 35, I'm just now learning how to talk to folks and how to put these new skills into action. I can't take all the credit. God revealed to me not too long ago that I was becoming nearly impossible to talk to and that I am a bad listener. Luckily, Corona has given me a seemingly endless amount of time to work on this. Now I am trying to spread the good news of good communication to my friends. It's been interesting. 

My girl Izzy is talking to a new guy. Everyday she calls me, upset over the communication in this budding relationship. He doesn't text her as much as she would like, and she feels like she is putting in most of the communication effort. 

"Why won't he text me?!" she demanded, beside herself. 

"Did you make your need know that you would like to be texted everyday?" I asked her. 

"NO! If he likes me, he should want to text me."

Sigh. Getting woke on how bad of a communicator I am has helped me to shed some annoying habits. Ladies, we are in 2020. Can we finally flush the Three Day Rule and the "He-Has-To-Call-Me-First rule that someone told us were the rules of engagement back when we were in the 7th grade? Me and many of my homegirls are nearly 40, and we are still operating under the dating communication rules from middle school! It's exhausting and as your friend let me tell you, it is also hard to watch. Stop making expectations without making your needs known! And if you like someone and want to talk to them, do so. I swear, you will feel better. 

In the name of good communication, can we also stop friend-dumping folks without letting them know what they did? Enough! Fear of communicating and having hard conversations is giving us the green light to dispose of folks that we are annoyed with but really care about. There is a chance that your friend doesn't know that they hurt you because YOU DIDN'T COMMUNICATE THAT TO THEM. 

Whew! Being the new self-proclaimed Queen of Communication, it is hard out here spreading the word. But for those of you who will receive it I tell you, communicating better can be scary, but it is also a life saver. Give it a try! Just don't be about it, talk about it. 

Aggressive Rats and the Single Girl

I heard somewhere that the Coronavirus has brought about a new species of aggressive rats. That's right! Just when we thought that things couldn't get any worse. And we are not talking Master Splinter here folks! Apparently, cities being on lockdown and a decrease of people being out and about. has contributed to a downturn in the amount of food and trash being left about. Because of this, rats do not have their usual surplus of food to get into, making them pissed off, hungry, and aggressive with each other. Some of these rats have gone as far as to become cannibalistic, nibbling on their fellow rat brotheran for the nourishment needed to survive. 

I thought that this was sad until my friend Tony told me that he was approached by a coworker to start an affair with her. You see, she knows that he is married, but still wants to get busy. She attempted to lure him into an entanglement by sharing with him her love of oral sex and the...logistics of her vagina. He turned her down, but she wasn't happy about it. Who knew that this type of crazy was happening between America's 9-1-1 operators? It seems as though closed businesses have made it almost impossible to go out on dates, and the Coronavirus in itself has made it unwise to be physical with anyone, even on the most harmless of levels. Tony said that his coworker was hella brazen and assertive. I guess the pandemic has now also turned some single women into aggressive rats. 

I assumed that a deadly virus being on the loose would somehow naturally decrease a woman's desire to get a man. I mean, giving a man a hug could end in you being put on a ventilator. But boy was I wrong! Apparently, at least in my friend group, this has cranked women's desire to get a man up a 100%. So many of my friends are joining apps and trying to get some meetups in before the cities go back to complete lockdown. Unlike with the rats, I hope that my friends don't start eating each other to thin out the competition. Tortilla said it best: People are dying of Covid-19. It makes you realize how important it is to be with someone. So true. No ifs, ands, or rats about it. 

Relationship Energy

So I was talking to a girl I went to college with last week, and as with most of my conversations with women in my life over 30, we discussed being single. Why are we single? What are we doing wrong? Why are men horrible? Are we ever going to get married? Should we just give up? You know, the typical panicked woman over 30 questions.
In this conversation, my friend tossed up a lot of reasons why she could be single. But what she didn't mention is what came through loud in clear through the convo without her knowing it: she still has a crush on her college crush. And you know who the college crush is: the man you had such an amazing chemistry with that you and everyone else but the crush thought you were going to marry. I know first hand that these crushes are hard to ditch. I had a laundry list of them until I was forced to abandon them. I mean, I really had no choice once the dudes got married.
Are you someone that believes in energy? After hanging up with my friend I came up with a reason why she may be single that was not thrown out during the call: perhaps she is still so emotionally connected and invested in this crush that she is giving off the energy that she is in a relationship to single guys.
"That's not it," P said when I ran the theory past him. "Men don't even think like that. Single men try to get with women whether their energy is telling them that that woman is with someone or not!"
I'm not so sure. I can't see a man that is serious about relationships and the prospect of getting married wasting time on a woman who was giving off the energy that she is with or in love with someone else.
So how do we cleanse ourselves of this "with someone but we're not" energy? Child, this is the million dollar question. The simple yet not so easy answer would be to just move on. Maybe get some of those energy crystals that everyone is talking about. All I know is that no one can occupy a space that someone else is already in.

The Hug

The other day I went with my Aunty to go pick up a pizza we'd ordered. While she was in the restaurant, I saw my childhood friend CeCe leaving the gas station.
"CeCe!" I yelled.
She came over to me and I was so happy to see her that I lost myself and I gave her a hug. Immediately, an alarm went off in my brain. NO TOUCHY! She didn't seem bothered by it, but I was so scared that I could've contracted Covid-19 that I almost threw up right there.
It's not my fault! In the area we were in, no one had on a mask. A young couple was making out by the burger joint pick up window an arm's length away from us. NO ONE had on a mask. It was a beautiful sunny day. I was seduced I tell you by the beautiful weather and by the fact that no one, and I do mean no one around me, seemed to be practicing any Covid precautions.
I always have known that touch is my love language, but Covid has shown this to me head on. I have literally be jonesing for a hug and as we all know, hugs are now a no-no.
You would think I would have gotten this through my head the last time I was in the grocery store. I ran into a grandmother from my nephew's pre-K play date, which has sense been Covid-canceled, and I was so happy to see her that I leaned in to give her a hug.
"No hugs!" she yelled so loudly that everyone in the store froze. The security looked over like he was ready to cuff me right there. Again, hugs are a no-no! Especially when it comes to elderly people.
I have tried hugging myself, but it's not the same, go figure. At the risk of sounding way to optimistic, I can't wait until Covid is over. I can't wait to touch folks again.

Mr. Nice Man

I think that I may have come across America's last nice man.  He is a member of my virtual writing group. He is sensitive. He is kind. He genuinely asks how you are doing, and he has a pretty smile. I told P all about him, and P said that he sounded like a...uh... b&tch ass nig@a who could possibly also be doubling as a gay virgin. This response is to be expected of P. In P's opinion, any man that honestly and openly acknowledges his emotions might as well me be wearing high heels and a pair of cotton panties with the words "insert here" stitched on the backside. What was shocking is that my aunty, who is as sweet as a fresh slice of key lime pie, agreed with P who, for all intents and purposes, is a prick. Aunty says that Mr. Nice Man sounds like a wimp.
Have you all noticed there is a war going on against kindness? I mean, seasoned politicians can't get through a press conference without throwing major, below the belt shade! But when it comes to girlboyness, it is especially dirty. I have been battling this war personally since elementary school when it comes to guys. I had a crush on a boy named Keith Edwards in kindergarten who introduced himself to me by walking over and kicking down my lego town. I have been getting my legos kicked by guys ever since. Ray Henderson in middle school. Adam Reid in high school. To go into the college years, I would need a drink, and to go into life in my 20s, I would need therapy.
The thing is that when I was fake in love with or crushing on or talking to these horrible guys, my heart was still pining for a nice man. A guy so great and available that it would be like he fell out of a Tyler Perry movie and right onto my doorstep. But it seems like NICE is the new NOT and is now equated with being unmasculine, weird, a front for something horrible, or even downright homosexual. I think that the real story here is not only have women become unaccustomed with kindness buy also more accustomed to cruelty, inappreciation, and abuse. For many of my girlfriends, it has gone beyond liking a bad boy and has stalled into unintentionally preferring bad men.  I prefer to no longer be stalled. When a nice man pulls up, I'm getting in the car.

Mathematics

If you are anything like me, you have been sitting at home, hiding from Rona. All this hiding has given me a lot of time to do some very sad and painful math.
I'm 35-years-old. I have had 3 great loves in my life. 2 of them are married to women that are almost insultingly opposite from me, and the other was gay and has died. I have 0 in savings. I have accumulated 0 wealth. I have entertained countless losers, which all ended up going nowhere. Add, subtract, and multiply that up and all you get is a remainder of 1: me. I can't say that this is where I thought I would be in my mid 30s, but to be fair, I haven't had real expectations for my life since I was 7, and those expectations were based off of what I saw on episodes of Lifestyles of The Rich and Famous with Robin Leach.
To add insult to injury, I was also able to do some math when it came to the time I have wasted on unrequited love. Those of you who have read my other posts know that I am acutely aware of, mindful of, and saddened by the amount of time I have wasted on different things. But when it comes to the time I have flushed daydreaming about crushes, men who didn't care, or men who were head over heels in love with my homegirls, the math is even more disappointing. I crushed the numbers and you won't believe the results! Over the years, I could have gotten an advanced degree, built a house from the ground up, walked to California, learned how to sew, taught myself to play the piano, shaved my head and watched my hair grow back, gotten my teaching license, and taken a cruise around the world FOUR times in the time that I have wasted worried about men who weren't an option.
As my friend Bells pointed out to me today, I am closer to forty than I am to thirty, so if I want to make something happen, I need to make a move. There is no more time to waste. The math supports this fact.

Love In The Time of Corona

I'm sorry that I have been absent. But, much like I assume you have been, I have been obsessed with these Coronavirus outbreak updates honey, and none of them have been good. Schools have gone digital. Countries have quarantined themselves. People have gotten into fist fights over toilet paper in the grocery store. And while watching the news 24/7 could lead one to believe that the world is about to end I could only think of one thing: what if I die of Coronavirus before I find true love? Would that not be tragic?!
Long ago, I read an article in a magazine about a young psychologist who had gotten the opportunity to serve as a woman's counselor for immigrants that had just fled to her country from a refugee camp. She was eager to dig into the issues that she assumed that she was going to be hearing about which were depression, anger, homesickness, mourning, etc. But, after talking to a few ladies, she was surprised. All these downtrodden refugees who had been ripped from their native lands under extreme, horrifying, and even deadly circumstances wanted to talk about were their romantic relationships in the camps. Some of their guys went to other countries. Others were having their heads turned by other women now that they were safe and sound. Isn't it funny that in times of distress we rely on our basic needs: food, water, shelter, and love?
Sunday, my pastor discussed how the Coronavirus is reminding people that they are not going to live forever and they need to get right with the Lord. Sadly, all I could think about was how we are not going to live forever and how I don't want to leave the planet before I meet the guy of my dreams. I don't care if he's old, ugly, deformed, or missing a leg or something. He can borrow one of mine! But I would at least like to spend a day with him, even if we are just holding hands from our hospital beds in the Corona quarantine facility.
Maybe, as always, my priorities are a smidge off. It's just funny how love is always a top priority, even when it should be avoiding a lung distressing killer virus.

Boy Excited

As many of you know, I volunteer with teen girls. I met with them on Saturday, and many of them were giggling for no reason and walking around with huge, huge smiles. It doesn't take a brain surgeon to know what that means: they have boyfriends. One of my favorite girls who, until recently, only wanted to date a Korean boy similar to her K-Pop crushes has found a super tall boy at her school that she can not stop talking about. He is apparently the best thing to happen to high school since excuses to get out of gym. One of the other teens I mentor is quiet and moody and has found another equally quiet and moody boy to laugh on the phone with. He is into anime and making dance videos on Instagram.
Seeing them made me smile. I remember what it feels like to be genuinely excited about a guy. I would like that feeling again, but I told Kyndra on our ride to church that I am not sure I can ever be again. What my teen mentees don't know is that with every ounce of boy excitement you have, the bigger the shoe is that is inevitably going to drop. I have been excited about so many guys, from the one that had a fat fetish highlighted by the tattoo of a fat woman on his arm to the one that seemed really community minded but only wanted to get close to me to get me involved in a calling card pyramid scheme.  Now, whenever I even so much as see a cute guy, I imagine what could be wrong with him; the boatload of unnecessary drama he could bring into my life.
The last guy I was excited about was Third Ryan. His other shoe dropped when he told me he was in love with one of my best friends. That was the cherry on top of an already melting love banana split for me. Now I kind of look at guys the way I look at purses at the mall that I can't afford: from a distance with a sad face. Just as the purse would be my obsession before it was inevitably snatched from me at an Atlanta bus stop, that man would have me excited before he inevitably lied, revealed his array of side families, asked to borrow money, or ate off of my plate without asking. But hey, who says you can't be excited about an idea? I did. I think I said that.

Vision

Since I turned 35, I notice that I have to squint to see things that are far away from me. Losing my vision is all I need in my so dramatic/traumatic life. And now, as if not being able to see things isn't annoying enough, people are beginning to notice and are putting in their unasked for two scents.

"You need glasses!" a woman I volunteer with hollered in my face. "I see you squinting over there."

"Thank you," I said, rolling my eyes.  

"Go get your eyes checked," she said, nibbling on a cookie. 

I wanted to slap that cookie out of her hand. Why oh why would I go get my eyes checked when I just got them checked...when I was 17. I remember it like it was yesterday. My mom took me to the poor people eye doctor that was located in a grocery store. They said I needed glasses and I received a fashionless pair of basic ones that were a little too big for my face. On top of that, I didn't really see a vision difference between the way things looked with or without them on. I felt I didn't need them, wore them a couple of times in college, then tossed them someplace, never to be worn again. 

Now I wish I knew where they were because I would put them on to keep from going to the eye doctor. Going blind is one of the scariest things I can think of. All your senses are important, but not being able to see has to be terrible. Plus, I remember when I got my eyes checked when I was in the third grade. They put fluid in my eyes and I had to wear some type of paper glasses and stay clear of the sun. That was not fun. Neither is far away things being blurry. 

Of course my fears are running away with me. What if I have a brain tumor or some type of mad eye disease? I won't know for a long time. I really have no intention of going to the eye doctor. 

The New Year with The Hope Daily Planner

I have talked a great deal about my need to get more organized in my life and my ongoing spiritual journey to get closer to God. I am not going to lie: both have been a struggle. For me, it all boils down to time. The days seem to ALWAYS get away from me, and I never have time to tackle my to-do list or study my Bible. But then I was sent this Daily Hope Planner by Hope Fuel and it is helping me to start the year off right. 

If you are as unorganized as me, you have probably had planners before that you didn't stick to. In the past, I have made a habit out of purchasing the prettiest ones that I can find. Then they just sat on my bookshelf and collected dust because I lacked the motivation to even get started. I have even downloaded apps that go unused because I figure that I can remember what I need to do, but never do. The Daily Hope Planner has been helpful for me because it asked questions that helped me to really sit and think about what it is that I want to accomplish this year and how that is connected to the relationship that I am trying to build with God. 

Because I am often easily discouraged, I like the space that the planner gives me to remind myself what I am thankful for. It also encourages you to start your weeks off with a devotional. My devotionals for the year will be centered around organization and staying the course. This helps me to not only stay focused, but to tie my goals and needs back to God. 

Eager to start your year off on the good foot? Click here for more info on Hope Fuel products. 

Gym Part 2: Naked

One thing that used to bother me in my 20s when I went to the gym was the number of naked ladies walking around the locker room or sitting in the sauna. I would shower and get dressed so quickly that I am sure that people thought that I showered with my clothes on. These naked women just would not quit! I had a French friend that I used to swim with. She would stand and tell me about her day after a swim as I sat, eye-level to her bush after, and did not care! And she wasn't the only one! It was a breast-booty-vag parade in that locker room! And me, being very uncomfortable with my body, hated it! I mean, even as a kid, I didn't change into my leotard with the other girls for ballet practice when I took dance at the Y. I would sneak out and change in the bathroom.
On Sunday, after showering and washing my hair, I grabbed my towel and simply walked out of the shower, my whole back side exposed. I didn't realize at first what I had done but once I did, I didn't care. I walked between two women being trained to work at the gym, water dripping from my bum. And once I got out into the locker room, I said hi to a woman who pretended not to see me, watching a video on her phone. I laughed out loud. Hey 21-year-old girl, take a gander at these cheeks! These are the cheeks of a 35-year-old woman who is here to improve her life and health and doesn't give a frick what you think!
Isn't it funny how things change with age? I am bigger now than I was at 25, I just don't care. As my ballet teacher used to tell me, pissed off as she dragged me out of the bathroom for practice, what does it matter if you are naked? We are all girls that have the same thing.

Gym Part 1: Annoying

Yes, like all the rest of the losers that have an issue committing to goals in a real way, I started going to the gym again this year for 2020. If you would remember, I used to go religiously to do water aerobics, but when I went broke, my membership was the first thing to go. But I have now started going again. Don't worry, I'm still broke. My aunt got me a membership for Christmas and I am so stoked. As you should well know by now, I LOVE the water.
However, once I walked into the familiar doors of the gym, I immediately remembered the little things about the gym that irked me. Upon walking to the check-in counter, I turn to my left and see a girl drinking out of this outrageously large water bottle. And I'm thinking, how much water do you need to do an hours worth of donkey kicks while staring at yourself intensely in the mirror? On top of that, she had on one of those workout outfits intended to make you sweat more. She also had on insanely professional workout sneakers. I just wanted to scream, "This is your local gym, not the olympics, girlfriend!"
So, as I am checking in to the gym, the guy checking me in sees a friend. The convo went like this:

Check-in guy: "What's up bro?"

Friend: "Nothing. Can't believe it is Sunday." 

Check-in guy: "I know right. I am already planning my proteins for the week in my head."

Proteins for the week?? Can you be any more obnoxious than that? 

The icing on the cake were the people stretching in the designated little stretch area. They were twisting and turning while trying to maintain some semblance of sexiness. One sister was just sitting on the mat in a full split, staring into space. I wanted to tap her on her boney shoulder and tell her, "Hey, if you can hit a split...THERE IS NO REASON FOR YOUR TO EVEN BE HERE!"

A few things have changed since the last time I was there, the primary thing being that it is no longer tabu to take photos of yourself working out. I saw more cell phones on the workout floor than sweat rags. 

But the good thing is is that the pool, my old friend, has not changed. I did tricks in that pool like a professional cheerleader and had so much fun. This time, I will try my hardest to stick it out. 

Socialite Anxiety

Once upon a time, Holly was a we bit of a socialite.
I was that girl that you would see shivering outside of the club in a sleeveless dress with no coat because she just had to go to the party and be cute, even though it was cold and windy.
When I first started blogging I would go to the opening of an envelope if there was going to be a VIP pass and food involved.
I enjoyed dancing and mingling. Many a night I came home hoarse from trying to speak over the loudspeakers at an event. There was just something cool to me about waking up with a club stamp still on my wrist.
On NYE as I got my wallflower on at a NYE party, going through my phone while everyone socialized, I realized that I may not be that girl anymore. These days, I have taken a liking to watching reruns of The Golden Girls on Youtube while giving myself a pedicure. Although it was good seeing everyone, I just felt tired and like being a loner. Dare I say, the energy I once had to be a social butterfly  has dwindled significantly. Having to hang out with about 50 people in a space makes me want to lie down and take a nap.
I can not tell you if this is a sign of depression or of getting older. But at this really fun NYE party, I came into the door ready to go. And it was so much fun! What wasn't fun was me. I felt uncomfortable and out of place, which has never been me socially, ever!
I hate to use the word anxiety because everyone uses it loosely, throwing it around like a frisbee. But that is how I felt at the party: anxious. As soon as I walked in, I just felt in the way, and noticed immediately that everyone looked better than me and was just generally better than me. Can you keep a secret? At one point during the night, I snuck into the room where they were keeping the coats and laid down, and by the time the new year came in, I was already walking to my Uber.
I don't want to lose the fun me. I like fun me. She's...fun! But she was not in the building on NYE and I am afraid she may leave the building for good if I don't do something. But I don't know what do. I will keep you posted on either my progression of regression.

According to JC- The Art of Shooting One's Shot

Ladies, if you are anything like me, you are confused. You aren't sure where your femininity stands in a fast-paced dating landscape where women are now required to be "savages" and "stallions". If you are anything like me, you are probably disgusted as well, for the news has been grim. The state of affairs has gotten so sad that women are paying for their own engagement rings and buying men drinks at the club. It's a topsy-turvy world out here girls. Those of us who were trying to be damsels, waiting for our knight in shining armor, are being forced to be aggressors, hunting for men with a spear and handbag while men sit back and gather their dreadlocks into man buns. Again, if you are like me, this picture just doesn't seem right. But it's okay. JC from church has cleared it all up for us.
I know what you are wondering:who is JC? JC is a 31-year-old man that attends my church. I think most of you would think that he is cute but he's tall so I think that we can agree that how he looks doesn't really matter. Anywho, he is a young man with his ear to the dating streets. I know this, because I have it on good authority that he has tried to talk to three of my church homegirls. And according to him, he's not finished. He announced that in 2020 he will be officially trying to "shoot his shot" at a woman at the church. This interested me.
"What would it look like JC if I wanted to shoot my shot at a man?" I asked. This was of interest, seeing that social media has informed me that men no longer feel like it's their job to approach women.
"You just go up to a guy and let him know how you are feeling, because most of the hints you think you are dropping we don't get."
Eye-opening! But I still had reservations.
"But wait. If a woman approaches a man, doesn't that impeded on his manhood?"
JC shook his head, his dreadlocks shaking. "Approaching a man does not make you the man in a relationship. He still has to take you out and prove to you that he is interested."
Wow!
I think that this all sounds good in theory, but after watching a video of a woman proposing to a man, I don't know if it really works. But 2020 is here and the goal is to be open. I will try it at some point. I will keep you posted on the results.

Next Move, Best Move

Am I the only person who talks to their rideshare drivers about their personal life? I think I may be, because when I share the opinions on my life that the drivers give me with my friends, they stare at me with a blank face.
I recently told this one driver- a Rasta wannabe with stitch-in dreadlocks- about the situation with Third Ryan. For those of you who do no remember, Third Ryan was the man that I pined for for a WHOLE YEAR who told me casually that he "feels a connection" with one of my best friends. It was then that I decided to pack up my cookies and go home. A year was long enough. I had to pull a Maxine Waters and reclaim my time.
"So what are you going to do now?" Rasta asked.
"Uh, nothing."
"Nothing?!" Rasta was so shocked that I thought he was going to crash the car, his framed Bob Marley photo nearly sliding down the dashboard.
"Yeah, he likes my friend."
"So what?!" he demanded. "They aren't together. You have to make your next move your best move, get him to like you."
Okay. This is a PSA. What we are NOT going to do this year, in 2020, is advice the people in our lives that we love, like, and that even step into our Ubers that it is okay to waste time trying to get blind people to see how cool we are. It is the ULTIMATE waste of time! My whole 4 years of college was spent trying to get tall frat boys to realize that I was more awesome than their model girlfriends. Guess what: they didn't! I could have spent that time doing important stuff like drinking or twerking on Bourbon Street!
I have now come to a state of mind where I believe that people who are supposed to see your light shining will see it, plain and simple. My next and best move is moving on.