Late Post: Christian Siriano Nails by Kiss

For the debut of Christian Siriano's Spring/Summer 2019 Collection at NYFW, Lead Manicurist of KISS Products Inc. Gina Edwards created the "Twisted Zebra" nail look. The look was created by using the KISS imPRESS Press-On Manicure Medium Length Nails in Black. 

Teeth

Me and my teeth have had a bad history.
When I was a kid, my mom was taken by some type of dental charlatan. He told her that all I needed to cure the fact that my adult teeth had come in early through shooting out of the gumline beside my baby teeth were rubber bands on my molars. He also insisted that I sleep in some type of head contraption that fastened around my chin with a velcro strap.
After spending God knows how much money with this clown, my mom woke up and smelled the coffee. I started going to a real orthodontist. I mean sure, his office was on the back end of the most ghetto mall in the city, but his office was clean and he used mouth stuff that tasted like candy. Never mind that his breath smelled miserable. He installed the braces that I needed oh so badly.
By the sixth grade, my braces were gone, and I had smooth, white, straight, gorgeous teeth. However, by the 9th grade, I was getting phantom toothaches. By my junior year of college, I bit the bullet and went to the on-campus dentist whose office was on the ground level of what looked to be a small housing project that the school had purchased and turned into a dorm. I remember it was hella dark in there. The dentist told me that I needed a root canal and that he would be happy to perform it after we got back from a hurricane evacuation. A year later, he was gone and never replaced. I was too broke to go to a dentist off-campus. Did I mention also that, at 21, I lost my last baby tooth? It came out while I was eating a bowl of soup, leaving a huge yet lovable gap on the right side of my mouth.
Today I sit here a woman in her early 30s, teething. My wisdom teeth come in a little then stop on and off throughout the year. And, I noticed when trying to film my first IGTV video that my bottom teeth are shifting and that I probably need a retainer or something. Now, I get to be one of those gross spitty mouth people, if I can even rummage up the money to go to the dentist.
This is the drama that is my teeth. This drama will end in about two years when I undoubtedly have to get dentures.

Asexual

Another close friend assumed I am an asexual. Sigh.
I told my friend Alex during our last conversation that I think that I have a crush on a man that goes to my church, and she thought that was interesting because she didn't think I was interested in men...or women...or anything! Sadly, she is not the first friend to assume this.
"Why do you think this about me?" I asked. I have to say, I was a little hurt, just as I was a lot hurt when my other friend suggested the same thing a few years back.
"I have never seen you with a man," she began. "I have never heard you really talk about any guys. I have never seen you with a woman. I just thought you were asexual."
"Well, I'm not," I defended, even though everything she said was true. So, defensively, I said, "What am I supposed to do? Men just aren't interested in me, and the ones that are suck!"
#facts. We need only to look to the laundry list of men I liked in college who didn't know I was alive, and the ones that did were very strategic in ignoring me. I am comfortable with saying that the men that liked me after college were complete and total liars. There was the man who got a girl pregnant in a club. The long-distance guy who refused to come see me. The married man. The man with the criminal record and side babies. Why would I want to introduce those gems to anyone in my life?
And let me just say that I don't have any beef with the asexual community. I think that they are on to something. But since I am not asexual, the fact that those closest to me that have known me my entire life think I am sucks.
"So what am I supposed to do? No one is interested," I said.
"You need to go for different kinds of men," she instructed. "And you need to try harder."
"I am trying!" I cried. Honestly, I'm not. Looking for love was literally making me crazy. Three years ago, I cuddled in the corner with my list of crushes and happily resigned to my fantasy love life. I had to for my heart and mental health! And if that makes me an asexual, so be it...I guess😞

Crustville

It's always interesting talking to my friend Alex because we are so different. She lives life outside of the box, and I live life so inside of the box that I am beginning to develop agoraphobia. This was somewhat the theme of our conversation today.
"I turn 34 this year, and I am not sure what to do for my birthday," I explained to her. "Last year I had a tea tasting, and the year before that, I had a movie night."
"Boring!" she exclaimed. "Teas and movie nights are not the way you celebrate getting older."
"I guess I could do something a little more fun," I whimpered into the phone. "I don't want to be old and crusty."
"Girl, you are on your way to Crustville, no stops!" she yelled in my ear.
It's always a little sad when people are hip to something about yourself that you thought that you were hiding. I noticed at my homecoming last year that I'm not as fun as I used to be in my 20s. But in my 20s, I was happy and optimistic, eager to see what life had to offer. Now I know what life has to offer: dead parents, debt, evictions, low credit scores, bad dates, and depression. Nothing about any of these things makes me want to put on a slinky dress and stand outside the club in a line, waiting to stand for another four hours in the middle of a crowded dance floor while drunk dudes bump into me.
"You need to live a little," Alex advised.
I've lived a little. Then life happened, now I'm living la vida in silence. Yes, I am for having a good time, but unlike 20s me, I have no interest in frazzle and minimal interest in dazzle.
"You are right." She was right. She is a good friend, and I am really taking what she said under advisement. If this year has taught me anything, it is that life is short. So, in regards to my birthday, do you think that Groupon has competitive rates on group knitting classes? I have always wanted to learn.

No Letting Go

These boys I went to school with have a podcast. It's called The Art of Letting Go. I was hesitant to even listen to it because, like most Black women, my defenses go up when it smells like someone is even thinking about telling me to get over something. After listening to about two of their episodes, I realized something profound: in my whole life, I don't think I have ever let go of anything. I mean nothing. Not even a little. I am not a forgiver. I am not a forgetter. I hold on to old hurts like a pit bull does a meat bone. Perhaps this is why I have not experienced some of the reoccurring themes of their show such as peace and growth and happiness.
I have a full well of negative experiences that I have collected over the years that have come together to develop a Chinese wok worth of thick, dark pains and disappointments. These yuckies are on reserve for me 24/7, providing me with the comfort and support that I need to get through a day. I pull from this wok whenever I need affirmation that life sucks, that people suck, and that it will all be not okay in the end. These gritty ideas settle like grease in a coffee can (was my grandma the only one that collected old grease in a coffee can?). At the top, you can find all that good new-new negativity like the resentment I feel for my mom dying and the anger I have towards men for rejecting me  my whole, whole life. And, at the bottom, you can find those sweet, structural throwback miseries from back in the day, like being called fat by girls I wished were my friends or being mad at myself for not passing a spelling test. All this icky fills me up like a big bowl of hot beef stew on a cold night. I couldn't imagine letting any of it go. It has become my defense, my support, my man. Letting any of it go would be like removing limbs or kicking the chair from under me. What would fill me in its place?
"God's love," my new church friend Jalissa suggested at church on Sunday. Oh my God! I hadn't even thought about God! Jalissa painted a beautiful picture of God's love coming in like a sweet ray of light and cleansing me, activating the pieces of him that are already in me and leading me into a new life of grace and fulfillment. Oh man, it sounded awesome. Too bad I don't have the strong faith needed to buy into it. But I'm working on it. Sigh. No I'm not.
Later, my pain painted of picture of what it would be like not to have it as back up even for a minute. I'd be emotionally nude. Everyone would see me. I'd be raw. And who needs that?
So, unfortunately, right now, when it comes to relinquishing old sadnesses, I'm like your boy Wayne Wonder: there's no letting go.

Irritated

Of late, I have found that I am in an unshakeable state of irritation, and I want to be left alone. I am irritated by lights. I prefer it to be dark. I am irritated by the sound of the television that my brothers insist on watching. I want to turn it off and throw it out the window. Just not on a Wednesday. I have to watch Black Ink: Chicago. 

The one thing that is really burning my biscuits of late is people throwing unasked-for commentary, remarks, and observations my way. You look tired. You seem upset. A simple statement like that could push me over the edge, taking the person who said it with me. I told you, I'm irritated. 

I was thinking that I might have PMS, but is that supposed to last all month long? For 33 years? Day and night?

Hopefully, my attitude improves soon. I'm seconds away from kicking someone in the face. 

Single, No Mingle

Kyndra invited me to the church singles ministry's July 4th BBQ, and I was excited to go. My past few July 4ths have been lackluster, so I was eager to get dressed up cute and meet some eligible bachelors. Imagine my surprise when I got there and realized that most of the men where 24. I didn't want to date a 24-year-old guy when I was 24! But that isn't even the biggest jaw-dropper. Dating isn't the primary focus of this singles ministry. Huh?
"It's not all about dating," Kyndra explained. "It's about singles coming together and encouraging each other in their walk with God."
That's cool I guess, but I assure you if I would have known that, I wouldn't have worn a dress.
I talked to another woman at my church today about the barbeque. I told her it was fun, but I had never heard of a singles ministry where no one was dating.
"Before you find love with a man, you need to understand God's love. Only after that can you even begin looking for a good man."
I frowned. That sounds like work. It also sounds like a long time coming. I'm 33. The last thing I have is time.
This same woman said that the good thing is that the singles are getting to know each other as friends.
"Take it from me," she assured, "you want your mate to be your friend."
I smiled and nodded, but I have always found that school of thought to be a complete load. I have friends. I need a man that I can tolerate to keep me company for the rest of my life.
This is all new to me. I am just really trying to better understand it all while attempting to grasp the concept of being single with no mingle.