Days of My Life

THIS POST HAS BEEN DELETED TO PROTECT MY INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY. THANKS FOR PEAKING IN.

This weekend I had a thought. It happens sometimes. I thought, “If one more person says of me, I hope she knows how pretty she is, I’m going to punch someone in the ears.” For me, the implications were that I either A) behaved in a way that pretty girls assumedly do not or B) (concurrent with A) I am just so down to earth that it doesn’t match people’s assumptions. I like to believe that B is implied, but people being people (and for the sake of argument) I’m going to assume A fits.

Now, how does a “pretty girl” act? I’m glad you asked, and I dislike that designation by the way, but I dislike it far less than its antithesis. Pretty girls have a few stereotypes working in and not so in their favor. My gut reaction is, “So I have to act an a** to be a pretty girl? No thank you.” I do the India.Arie “Video” thing in a heartbeat. The stereotypes: stuck-up, snobby, arrogant, high-maintenance, expensive, and I know there are more adjectives, but you get my drift. While some of those characteristics may have fit me at one time, they haven’t in a very long time. When it comes to my appearance, I’m one of the most humble “pretty” (ugh!) people I know. I very seldomly refer to myself as such because everyone has his/her preferences, and I’m sure I don’t meet quite a few.

My appearance is actually disarming because more often than not, even when I should be dressed up (like at work for instance), I’m dressed down. I don’t do fly unless I feel like it, and I very seldomly do. But trust, I CAN do fly and love it. So, there’s a barrier to seeing pretty that’s intentional. This may be sad, but I want to be taken seriously for who I am and professionally for what I do. My youthful appearance in my profession isn’t always an asset among my colleagues. They tend to be much older in general, and my youthfulness sometimes makes them forget that I’m a colleague and not a student. I take mental notes and give them subtle reminders as I pick and choose my battles. Besides the fact that I’m lazy sometimes and really may not care that day, I don’t want the drama of “who does she think she is,” so I compensate by staying true to who I am and not allowing my behavior in any way to suggest any impropiety.

All of that to say, I’m a nice girl. I despise husbands with a wandering eye and am actually the best girl to have around a significant other because I.will.check.a.brother. Hard!! I’m loyal to my female friends and protective of my male friends, and oh yeah, I HAVE males who are actually just friends. I know pretty girls who would cringe if you stepped on a MB high-heeled toe. I have pretty friends who won’t be caught without anything that’s not name brand–and I don’t mean Nine West. If one’s friends say a lot about her, I have a definite contrast between my past and my present. I like my present a lot better. I can put my real friends on one hand, and not one is a fly girl, not really (in terms of appearance). They are all attractive but you won’t get any divadom from them, unless you tick them and they have to just show you for old time’s sake.

I’ve rambled and totally gotten off the soapbox I wanted to be on, but pretty and nice are not contradictions. It’s okay not to be pretentious or obnoxious. For the record, yes, I am pretty and I know it. There, I said it. It is exactly because I know it that I feel no need to flaunt it. If you see it, you see it. If not, oh well. My momma always taught me that pretty could only get me so far: I’d better have strong character to back it up. In essence, she and my grandmother consistently told me that pretty is as pretty does, and I believe them. They worked hard to make sure I wasn’t a stuck-up a** while still ensuring that I would be a “young lady” as opposed to a typical and stereotypically selfish and shallow “pretty girl.” I may have always thought myself attractive, but I haven’t always liked me. I worked hard to become someone that I can love; therefore, my love doesn’t go to the hightest bidder. And that’s a perfect segue to another point.

NEW POINT ALTOGETHER
Why do brothers think because there’s a ratio in their favor they’ve got the game on lock? Do they actually think that the ratio gives them an act the fool advantage(AFA)? I think they do. While I haven’t experienced this, I read something a guy posted that led me to believe the AFA is real. I’LL FINISH THIS LATER. I HAVE TO GO TO WORK. UGH!

In December 2006, the sky opened over my head and it just would not stop–the rain. My dog of 16 years was seriously sick, my dad was in and out of the hospital, money was tight, I was living in a less than ideal situation while trying to buy a house, work sucked, and I was doing all I could to keep my head above water. All of this was going on as I entered what was usually one of my happiest times of the year, the holiday season. Through all of the adversity, I managed not to get depressed. I was just waiting, waiting on my world to change, and so, I called the man who’s always been my shining knight/light.

When it seemed like there was no ceiling to the rain the sky would drop, my daddy said to me, “Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be fine. I know it may not seem like it, but it will. You’re living Halloween, but just remember, it’s still Christmas.” Laughter and then a smile from me was my response.

My dad had just made one of many trips home from the hospital a month or so earlier. He is and always has been a source of solid inspiration. He can always make me smile.

And you know what? Things DID get better. My car was recovered and returned, I got a new job and exponentially increased my dividends, I closed on my house, and even though she would die a few months later, my dog rallied back with one last surge of health. Sometimes to see the rainbows, all you have to do is just keep living.

that no matter if the sun ceases to shine, he’s broke and doesn’t have a dime, his dog dies, his career crashes, his health fails, OR his days are sunny, he knows nothing but prosperity, his life is full of laughter, joy, health, and no sadness–I’ve got his back. I am down for him for all time, and to me, he is the greatest.

I hope he knows that even though I know to him I am a sister and a friend that my love for him won’t let me wait and watch him crash and burn. My love for him wants him to have God’s absolute best. My love for him is pure and unselfish, even though and because there is no promise of anything in return. I hope he knows that I value our relationship more than I value some people’s existence.

I hope he knows that I am not trying to get him to “wife me.” I only want him beside me. His thoughtfulness, his sensitivity and attention to detail, the way he never forgets what’s important, his ability to forgive and give, his care, concern–the way he treats his mama, romances his grandmama, values his sisters, bonds with his brothers, respects his father, and even nurtures his dog–that is why I love him. That is why I take pride in just calling him friend. I just hope he knows…