Less of April...

With arms wide open Under the sunlight. Welcome to this place. I'll show you everything. With arms wide open. Now everything has changed. I'll show you love. I'll show you everything. With arms wide open. With arms wide open. –“Arms Wide Open” Creed I do not have children. I will never have children. This is not to say that I would not have liked to be a mother. I would. I just think that it I was meant to have one, I would have had it by now. I suppose at 43, I am still physically able to have a child or that I could adopt one. However, the older I get, the less I feel as though it’s something I want to do. Physically—let’s face it, I’ve had WLS and am planning on having extensive plastic surgery.   My obesity was like a noose around my neck, and I can’t run the risk of ever being like that again. Fear—I hate myself for saying this. There is a part of me is that is really fearful of having a special needs child. I know that young women have special needs kids...

*We’re still listening to Prince and Sheena* This issue of extreme artifice in women really has had me thinking. The issue of hair deserves its own space. Hence part, II. The issue of natural hair vs. processed hair is polarizing in the Black community. I will admit to being shocked/sad/irritated/disappointed when I see Black women whose hair is relaxed. It almost seems like smoking. Oh you still do that? Really? Insert confused face here. I don't mean to suggest black women who relax their hair or rock fake hair don't like being black. However… What DOES it mean when you can't look at yourself with the hair that grows from your head? What does it mean that you can't appreciate how fun and interesting your hair is? Full disclosure--- while my hair is "natural" I am currently blondish (hurtling at warp speed towards grey) which is decidedly unnatural. Mind you, I am sassy as hell, but decidedly unnatural. I had a conversation with one of my cousins about ...

  --> Look here...You got the look (you got the look).You must'a took (you must'a took) A whole hour just to make up your face, baby. Closin' time, ugly lights, everybody's inspected (Everybody's inspected). But you are a natural beauty unaffected (Unaffected). Did I say an hour? My face is red, I stand corrected (I stand corrected). You've got the look. You've got the hook. You sho'nuf do be cookin' in my book. Your face is jammin'. Your body's heck-a-slammin'.  If love is good. Let's get to rammin'- "You got the look"- Prince As my body has been changing I’ve been trying to figure out, not only, what my look is but also what makes me feel comfortable and pretty. What kind of clothes do I like? What should my hair look like? What’s my make up routine? I’ve spent or spend a lot of time thinking about that sort of thing. In the past I always felt relegated to a certain look. Now that I’m freer...