My Friend


After six months of disappearance my friend came back. She was not missed. I did not even think about her in the least because she was a pain in the asthma attack. Whenever I knew she was coming around I would cringe and brace myself, and I would get warnings two weeks before she showed up. Like clockwork I always knew when her triflin’ butt would appear, wrecking havoc on my life. It was like Basketball Wives, RHOA , Hip Hop Wives, Star Jones and BET’s old girl “Cita” from “Cita’s World“, rolled into one. Add a dash of a thug missus from “Bad Girls’ Club“, a shot of a contestant from “Maury” and a jilted jump off from “For the Love of Ray J” and you get the picture. This child was conniving and a backstabber, so I prepared for her with a bag of salt and vinegar chips and copious amounts of Ben and Jerry’s Chocolate anything, the more chocolate the better. When my friend was around I craved protein just to deal with her so a nice medium rib eye did the trick.

After leaving from around me I felt much better. My moods were better and I could think clearer. But I knew that heifer would be back. She didn’t care how old I was she wanted to mess with me. I told her I was too old to for her to be hanging around, and she just laughed and said that she’ll be back because she enjoyed messing with my head. I replied, “You narcissistic, blatant, b, u were gone for half a year and now you wanna come back?!”

What I just described was my menstrual cycle. Happy Monday!!


Major Pain

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I disappeared. I slept all day and had a major pity party.I looked at my car and saw how dirty it is. My floors need cleaning. The dog needs a bath and a hair cut. The large fibroid in my back area became bothersome and I could not locate the Advil.

But you know what? I will regroup and come back with insight and humor. I promise.

I Am Not My Hair

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Last week I got my hair washed, colored, conditioned, and roller set at a spot that a wireless phone carrier rep told me about in town. My hair actually moved and it had a bounce to it. I received lots of compliments which helped my mood. The salon was owned by Dominicans, who are known for their fierce roller sets and round brush/blow dry techniques. You go in and then you are  out. My stylist did not speak a word of English, but a woman who looked like the owner translated. The whole Dominican Style Hair Salon has been a phenomenon that made the front page of the Wall Street Journal.

Earlier that day I decided to put on eye make up so as not to look so tired. I wore a purple scarf and cardigan, which coordinated with the smoky violet look. I slathered on a lip treatment and felt polished, instead of the crack head look I was sporting earlier. I figured the crusty eyes, head scarf could be retired because I felt it was my time. It was just that before I was too tired to even lift my hand to my face, and the thought of going to a hair dresser seemed like a major task.

I read in one of my depression books that women paying attention to their looks improved their mood greatly. It is not a superficial, hey look at me I want to be a covergirl, but more like grooming and enhancements. Perhaps I will be in the mindset to beat face, which is a make up artist term I just learned where one creates a dramatic fashion forward look. Lord knows, I have the tools and products. I just realized that this post was supposed to be about hair, which is what I wanted to discuss. My thesis was on Black Hair– Is It Political?

Darn, that topic will have to wait next time. I will conclude that since my appearance improved, I FELT BETTER!!! Now if I can focus on laundry, rotating my clothes and showering consistently that will show significant  progress…