Every year around the holidays, I start reflecting over the past year. What worked? What didn’t? What areas do I need to improve in? But this year, I decided to take a different approach. Instead of a list of 10 resolutions I will break by January 5th…I’m making 1 resolution to keep all year.
Sigh. I don’t think the Executive Assistant of my group likes me. I know. Who can’t like me? Apparently Linda. I can’t stand when people don’t like me (except if it’s my nemises…he can suck it). It all started last week. I got promoted to a new position within a business segment which meant I had to move to a new floor. That move required leaving my wonderful office and relocating to a cube. A CUBICLE! Where I have to use keys to lock desk drawers before Burglar Billy comes to steal my purse because I don’t have a door. I now suffer from OSA…Office Separation Anxiety. But, I am trying to work thru it. So, last week, I am trying to sneak out of my cube and go to the gym so I can stop looking like the light-skinned Precious. But, before I can make it to the door, someone needs something so I go back to my desk and lay my keys down. I am not quite sure what happened next. OSA causes temporary memory loss.
After I finish responding to emails (3 hours later), it’s time to leave the “office” for the day. So, I try to open the desk drawer (assuming that’s where I put my keys) and it’s locked. Instantly, I thought “BILLY GOT ME!” I looked everywhere around my small cube. It takes me 3 minutes. *sobs* I try opening the desk drawer again and it’s not budging. Now, I’m sounding the alarms and freaking out. I just knew I would get robbed being out in the element (that’s what I call cube living). I go to see Linda (and interrupt her gossip session) to let her know that I had been ROBBED! How am I supposed to get home? Has someone stolen my car from the parking garage? What is going on? She checks to see if someone sent an email to her saying they had my keys. I knew Billy wasn’t going to do that. Billy was driving my car down I-75 screaming out “GOTCHA CUBER!”
I leave her and go see Security. That’s right. I talk to our Director of Security. He’s former FBI and I am asking him to put together a profile on Billy. What motivates him to steal from cubes? Maybe they need to dust for prints? Check surveillance tapes…do we have those? He looks at me…and I look right back at him asking if he needs to take notes or just plans on remembering all the information I’m giving him. OSA is serious, y’all…it has PTSD symptoms. I’ve got the folks in Security calling down to the front guard and checking on my car. Then, I head back upstairs to wait on the maintenance man from Facilities (who Linda had called). This was back when Linda liked me…before “it” happened. She was so concerned. I mean, I had no keys and my car had been jacked.
I’m on the phone with a friend arranging transportation home when Leroy the Maintenance Guy shows up. As I am pouring out my woes of being a victim of a cube Ponzi scheme, Leroy takes his keys and opens my desk drawer…and there were my keys. Leroy and Linda both look at me like I’m a child that tells stories for attention. I’m like, “Leroy, you just unlocked that drawer so you know it was locked.” He just rolled his eyes. You know what, Leroy? Crabs in a barrel, buddy.
At this point, Linda has sighed and walked away…disappointed. I send her an email to apologize and she’s like, “okay.” DON’T BE THAT WAY, LINDA! HOW DID I KNOW? BILLY IS A FREAKING MAGICIAN (I haven’t given up on my Billy the Burglar accusation). I just can’t break thru the ice wall Linda has erected. She treats me like Celie did Mister. If there are treats in the break room, she will tell my neighbor and look at me like, “STARVE MADEA!” When I asked for her help in ordering new business cards…she told me to go on the internet in a voice that made me think she feels I am special needs. I can’t stand it.
So, now I have come up with Project Effie. You know Effie…from Dreamgirls? Jennifer Holiday/Hudson’s character? Looks like I’m gonna have to make my famous gorilla bread, bring in a boombox and start singing, “And I am telling you…I’m not going…AND YOU, AND YOU, AND YOU….YOU’RE GONNA LOVE ME, LINDA!” If that doesn’t work, I will start on Project Obi Wan Kenobi…Jedi mind tricks always work. Ha!
I had the pleasure of spending 8 days in the Muslim country of Morocco. To be honest, I was a bit nervous after reading the warnings in the guidebooks. I was aware of a bombing of a tourist cafe in Jamaa el-Fnaa square in Marrakesh in April 2011 as well as a general anti-American sentiment from people who had visited the country in the early to mid-2000’s. However, I was assured by the local travel agency I used that it was completely safe for Americans to visit. And, I am so glad that I did.
I’ve traveled to many countries and, on the whole, Moroccans have been the kindest and most generous people I have met. The people I met treated me as a family member as it is a very family oriented society. When an old friend passes by, Moroccans don’t just say “hi”…they take time to ask about the individual’s health, family, job, etc. They also greet each other as “brother” or “sister”. In addition to treating each other (and people they don’t know) warmly, they gave money to the disabled and elderly, and they made religion their priority. Everything revolves around Allah. You will hear a call to prayer over loudspeakers five times a day.
During my visit, I had some great conversations about religion. I wanted to understand the basics of Islam as well as the culture. I am a Christian and being American, I’ve heard a lot of “anti-Muslim” rhetoric since 9/11. Quite honestly, I get tired of people and certain media demonizing an entire religion based upon the actions of extremists. As my late grandmother used to say, “not everybody who goes to church is a Christian.” Every religion has its own sect of crazies. Westboro Baptist does not represent me or my beliefs. Yet, they call themselves “Christians.” Hitler saw himself as Christian. And, I am sure the Catholic priests who molested little boys see themselves as Christians too. Just as al-Qaeda sees themselves as Muslims.
Claiming a religion doesn’t automatically make you the representative of it. Everybody has their own set of beliefs…whether they believe in a form of religion or not. But, all of us have a belief system. Whether we worship God, Allah, Buddha…or a set of gods…or none at all. The bottom line, I feel, is that we should be able to respect those that are different from us.
In speaking with some Muslims in Morocco, I was able to learn the following about the differences in our religions:
1. They regard Jesus as a respected prophet, not God. I think this is the biggest difference. That’s the essence of the message of Islam…which is to call upon people to worship the one God of Abraham, Isaac, Moses, Jesus, etc.
2. They don’t believe in the original sin. I’m told that the Quran mentions the story of Adam, Eve and the apple but places the blame on Adam and Eve equally, then forgave them. Thus, Jesus didn’t die on a cross nor did He die for anyones sins (since we are born sinless). He was raised to heaven and will return before the end of times.
3. They are accountable for their actions. On the day of judgment, their deeds will be weighed. Belief alone does not guarantee them Heaven. Their good actions have to outweigh their bad actions. These deeds could be anything from praying to God to serving for a better humanity.
Islam has 5 pillars that every Muslim must practice:
1. Shahadah = the declaration that there is none worthy of worship except Allah and that Muhammad is his messenger.
2. Prayer (Salat) = establishing of the five daily Prayers.
3. The paying of alms (Zakat) = which is generally 2.5% of the total savings for a rich man working in trade or industry, and 10% or 20% of the annual produce for agriculturists. This money or produce is distributed among the poor.
4. Fasting (Sawm) = refraining from eating, drinking or satisfying other needs from dawn to dusk in the month of Ramadan, the ninth month in the Islamic lunar calendar (usually around August/September).
5. The Pilgrimage to Mecca (Hajj) = this is done during the month of Zul Hijjah, and is compulsory once in a lifetime for one who has the ability to do it. If the Muslim is in ill-health or in debt, he or she is not required to perform Hajj.
While there are differences (mainly that Christians recognize God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit), there are some similarities (we fast from time to time, pay tithes, help the less fortunate and pray). I’m not saying that one religion is better than the other. I am a Christian. However, my grandmother is a Jehovah’s Witness. I’ve had to learn from an early age to figure out differences and make a decision on what I believe is true. Just because I don’t agree with the tenets of certain religions doesn’t mean I should disrespect them. As long as our rights and person aren’t infringed upon, we should be able to live in peace.
The terrorists from 9/11 and from the recent U.S. embassy attacks are horrible people. And so was Queen Mary (also known as Bloody Mary) who burned Protestants on the stake for refusing to convert to Catholicism. History is riddled with those who want to use violence & murder to uphold their “religious beliefs.” Let’s not judge an entire religion based upon the acts of a few. Making Muslim synonymous with terrorism is wrong. Just like the anti-Muslim movie that has caused a firestorm recently was wrong. I think if we quit judging others, we will find that we are more alike than we realize. Of course, this is just my humble opinion.
Naming your child is like a game of Craps…you roll the dice and pray that your kid doesn’t put you in assisted living because of it.
I’m sure when my parents named me, they thought they’d found a nice, normal name. How were they supposed to know that Prince Rogers Nelson was looking thru the Big Book of Baby Names trying to find a nice title for his ode to masturbation??? Prince was probably perusing through the book saying, “Darling Annie? Nope…she has a musical named after her and was rescued by rich folks. I need something more street…Darling Shantae? Nope, too ethnic, there needs to be a name that all races can identify with. Oh, here we go…Nikki.”
Yeah, it was great growing up with my own theme song. Growing up is hard enough without having your own parental advisory soundtrack.
Kids will claim to know about everything…they are just big perpetrators. Kind of like Sarah Palin. Have you ever tried to tell a kid something only to hear, “I KNOW! GOD! I’M NOT A BABY!”? But they don’t know and come off looking like a complete idiot. I was one of those idiots…absolutely refusing to ask the meaning of something because I thought that it would weaken my “cool” rep (which, let’s be honest…I had no rep) at school.
When I was in 3rd grade, a boy came up to me on the playground and said “Darling Nikki, do you masturbate to magazines?” My response? “Yeah, all the time!” No way was I going to act like I didn’t know what the word “masturbate” meant. I had a rep to protect. I’d figure that out when I got home.
After school, I went home and asked my Dad “What does masturbate mean?” His response? He just walked away from me. Like I was a crazy homeless person who had offended his delicate sensibilities. My Dad doesn’t respond well to those types of questions.
For example, one day, my Mom gave me a book titled, “So, You Got Your Period?” I guess it was a self-help book to young girls who suddenly find themselves bleeding and can’t find a big enough band-aid for their vagina. And, really? A book, Mom? We couldn’t have just had “the talk”? I have one of those mothers who thinks books provide the answers to everything. If I have an issue, she will find a book about it on Amazon and send it to me with a note that says, “I think you will find this helpful.” Ten-year old Nikki was mortified by “So, You Got Your Period?” There were pictures of a woman’s uterus and chapters on the wonders of menstruating and exploring the exciting changes in your body. Seriously. My Mom told me to read it then we would discuss. Like it’s book club. Anyway, my brother saw the book and at the dinner table (where all the crazy happens) he looks at my Dad and asks, “What’s a period?” I knew that question was a non-starter based on the look of incredulity on my father’s face. He responds “A dot at the end of a sentence. Now eat your peas.” Then he gets up from the table and walks away.
Anyway, I was determined to find out what masturbate meant. My rep was everything! So, I followed my Dad around and pestered him until I got a response. And, finally, he told me that masturbate meant coloring in a book. He should know me better than that. I grew up with a mother that made us use new words in a sentence all the time! I spent the next couple of months thinking masturbation was a cool new way to color. At a family reunion, I walked up to my aunt and said, “Hey, I just masturbated all over this coloring book. Do you like it?” My Dad happened to be standing next to me…he walked away. Once my Mom explained what the word meant (she probably gave me a book titled, “So, You Want to Know About Masturbation?”), I was mortified. And pissed that I had gotten caught slipping at school.
Darling Nikki was a turning point in my life. That song put me on the map at Richards Elementary and introduced me to the greatest artist…Prince. I had to go to my friend’s house to listen to him because my parents refused to buy his “nastiness” (to quote my Dad). I had no idea what he was singing about or the fact that most of the songs were sexually explicit. He just seemed really cool with the lace & ruffled blouses he’d wear while riding a motorcycle. Prince was my boo (well, my boo on the side because I still considered myself Mrs. Michael Jackson). I wanted my parents to take me to a Prince concert so bad. For some reason, my father felt it was inappropriate to take a 9-year-old to see a man gyrate around stage wearing buttless pants.
So, my parents compromised and took me to a New Edition concert instead. Bet they rethought that after watching Being Bobby Brown. Butless pants don’t seem so bad next to a crackhead.
Don’t let the sweet face fool you!
I have become obsessed with watching my dog, Riley, on the webcam at doggie daycare. I know, I know…I need to get a life. But, it’s just so freaking cute. After a couple of days, I started to notice that the dogs seemed to have their own little “culture”. And, as I was bored, I just created a story of what I think is going on at Barking Hound Village Doggie Daycare.
Riley is working as part of the Secret Service security team. Apparently, someone noticed that he has exceptional guarding abilities and that he is able to detect unsavory characters from a minimum of 20 feet away!!! He was originally recruited for the job of “First Dog” but felt that there was no future in that position. It’s all photo-ops. However, he did agree to allow Sasha and Malia to pet him each day for a couple of hours. He is so selfless. Riley talked about it when he was a guest on Oprah’s Next Chapter. Below is a transcript:
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Oprah: Welcome to the show, Riley!
Riley: Oprah, please call me Mr. Pitts, okay? We don’t know each other like that.
Oprah: Sorry, Mr. Pitts. You know, I had a dog that looked just like you. Her name was Sophie.
Riley: Are you calling me a girl? Oh, so now all Cocker Spaniels look alike? Have you learned nothing from Obama? America is “supposed” to be post-racial now!
Oprah: You are right. It was a slip. Rush Limbaugh is rubbing off on me.
Riley: No probs, O.
Oprah: Don’t get overly familiar, Mr. Pitts. Remember what happened to James Frey. So, tell me about your exciting new position in the Obama-Biden administration!
Riley: Well, basically, I am in charge of canine security detail for Obama. I coordinate all the dogs that work for the Secret Service. I’ve been training them at our training facility known under the code name “Barking Hound Village”. Most people think it’s a doggie daycare…that’s how we fool them. They never know what goes on during nap time. That’s when we run black ops simulations. Anything can happen, Oprah. Constant vigilance!!!!
Oprah: Wow, that is amazing. How were you recruited?
Riley: I was running a rogue operation a few years ago and was betrayed by this Shih Tzu (you can’t trust anything that fluffy. Yeah, they look cute but those suckers are as cunning as they come!). The Shih Tzu, Mr. Giggles, sold me out for a bag of treats and a new titanium collar (he’s worse than Diddy when it comes to wearing bling). Next thing I know, I have been picked up by some outfit known as Cocker Rescue with my picture placed on their website. Major breach of security. Anybody could’ve seen me. I mean, you didn’t see Jack Bauer’s picture on a website! Anyway, I got adopted by this nice lady. My new “mama” took me to obedience school which was a joke. I can’t be brainwashed, okay? Ask her about it. She knows that I still pee in the living room just to show her that nobody rules me. Understand?
Oprah: Totally. Then what happened?
Riley: Well, after I was able to convince my mama that I needed “socialization” with other dogs, I started recruiting at this doggie daycare and within a couple of months, started a new organization. With the doggie daycare as a front, nobody would suspect that we were a group of elite fighters who rooted out terrorist dogs throughout the world. However, as with any organization, you always have someone go rogue. I call it “The Mr. Giggles Effect”. We had a Doberman named Targa go bad. It was unfortunate but he had to be eliminated after he slighted me in front of my minions. You don’t disrespect me. I didn’t earn the name, “The Punisher”, for selling cupcakes to the kids. Turns out that Targa was a double agent, working for an outfit by the name of “Paws for Dogs”. I had been trying to infiltrate them for months to get to the brains behind the outfit. Someone who we only know under the pseudonym of “Doggilicious”. The only intel we had is that he hangs out with Snoop Dogg a lot. Anyway, our first break came when Killa Mike (he’s one of Michael Vick’s old fighting dogs…a real find) heard Targa humming “Gin and Juice”. No self-respecting dog hums a Snoop Dogg song. That’s played out. After cornering Targa, we broke him using a new torture tactic called “Operation Solid” which is basically making him listen to an endless loop of Ashford and Simpson’s song “Solid” for hours until he begs for mercy. He can’t even stop himself from cowering when someone comes up and screams “Solid as a Rock!” We broke him and found out the pertinent information, shut down the terrorist group and received a special commendation. That’s how Obama heard of us. He told me that he needs someone who doesn’t trust anybody. Do you think I let someone roll up on my mama’s car? Hecks no! You better stay 50 feet away! If I hear kids walking down the street talking loud…IT IS ON! I DON’T PLAY ANY GAMES!
Oprah: Wow, I think I could really use some security like that.
Riley: Call my assistant, Miss Stinkpot, and she’ll set you up.
Oprah: So, are you still recruiting?
Riley: Yeah, but it’s difficult. I tried to recruit my Granny’s dog, Payton, but he refused to come out of retirement unless he was given an astronomical amount of treats. I asked him if he had read the Huffington Post which reported that employment was down. Then, my cousin Cody sent me his resume. Sigh. Apparently, he labels himself as “The Assassin” and had pictures of all the chew toys he had destroyed. This was supposed to be evidence that he has the guts for this grueling job. I decided to give him a chance. Unfortunately, when we were on a stakeout, someone’s car alarm went off and he peed in the car and hid under the seat. He’s been reassigned to an office position. Well, thanks for having me on but I gots to run. The O man needs me. Oh, be on the lookout for my new book, “It’s Hard Being Me”. It’s out in stores this summer.
Lord help me. I decided to give online dating another try. Why? Because all of my fabulousness overwhelms me so I need to siphon it off onto someone else (not because I seem to have inadvertently gotten on the seniorsingles.com distribution list…I’m not that old yet, y’all). Ha! So, I paid my money and decided to try my luck. I figure that you have to weed thru the crazies in real life so this may make it a bit easier. But you know what I have found? Crazy can be overwhelming in concentrated doses. My observations so far…
Profile Pictures
First, what is the deal with taking a picture of yourself in the bathroom mirror? Don’t you have any friends? Maybe a neighbor? Or even a timer on the camera? If I have to see one more camera-phone glamour shot, I am going to scream. It’s like picture in picture. I’m distracted by what type of phone you have and if that is a Otterbox case. Don’t do that to me. Phone a friend. Second, put some clothes on. I said it. Especially if you want to take a chest picture and you look like Notorious B.I.G. I can’t take it. Third, don’t put the Christmas picture with your child on the dating website. Bobby Jr. isn’t looking for love…he’s looking for his pacifier. Third, don’t put your wedding photo with a black X over the face of your ex-wife. Seriously. You have other photos to use. That ain’t winning you any matches. Fourth, stop posing next to a luxury car or in front of some McMansion to show your wealth. I don’t believe it. Real rich folks don’t advertise like that. That is how you get robbed.
The Dating Pool
I’ve found that, typically, matches fall into the following categories…what my friends and I like to call “The Dirty Dozen”:
1. Mr. Pop Pops = I set age limits for a reason. I’m not opposed to expanding the limit by a couple of years…but if you are 65, please don’t send me a wink. I’m not trying to meet up with you for the Early Bird Special. That’s gross. I mean, I thought Morgan Freeman was great in Shawshank Redemption but I’m not trying to date him. And, really…after my experience in Vegas, I don’t think I can handle another old man screaming out “WTF?” when the shuttle bus doesn’t arrive on time.
2. Mr. Delusional = This is the guy who has described himself as “athletic & toned” but looks like Mr. Dursley from Harry Potter. This is also the guy that has used up the 26 picture allotment on his supposed “Maserati/Jaguar/BMW/Bugatti”, “luxury home”, and other assorted karate kicking/’staring off into the distance with a suit and briefcase’ photos.
3. Mr. Crazypants = I will say this…I appreciate people who showcase crazy in their profile descriptions. I prefer to read the crazy than hear about it over drinks (where I can’t make a quick escape). Case in point, here is an actual excerpt from a guy’s profile (note that he would also qualify under #9 Functionally Illiterate):
” I’m 100% HETERO however I’m very kinky with the right woman!Im a butt man so she has to have a NICE BOOTY Meaning any size, just has to be kissable,lickable and look good in jeans,panties etc.. lol :)I enjoy the entire female anatomy (ALL 3 HOLES)Yes!!! Even Anal. 🙂 Its a shame i have to be this honest but some people dont read, some people dont pay attention and some people dont get it. Okay.. Back to the profile. Yes..I know.. Im a freak.lol But im respectful and honest. kissing,cuddling, hand griping,sweaty palms lots of romance,passion. MMM…WHEW! But I need to find my queen, She should be emotionally & mentally stable(FREAK IN THE SHEETS & WOMAN IN THE STREETS)Otherwise im Abstinent. One reason is because i have herpes, got it from a dishonest ex. Yes im honest. If you have to many hang ups,claim you want a honest man but have a problem with my honesty.(Dont judge me) If you do, your the hypocrite… Please keep it moving.”
That is a strict cut and paste with no edits. I know it’s crazy. How does emotionally & mentally stable = freak in the sheets & woman in the streets? And this is after he talks about sweaty palms, hand “griping” and being freaky with anal sex even tho he is abstinent because he has herpes? What? Oh, but he is respectful. Can’t forget that. Too many contradictions to discuss. Cray cray. Alas, I opted to “keep it moving.” In fact, after I read that, I just shut down my laptop and went upstairs to take a shower.
4. Mr. Married But Looking = This is the guy who is “Currently Separated” which really means that he is still married but stepping out. Some of the wives don’t even realize this until their friend, Betty, tells them that Leroy is on Plenty of Fish with the screen name “BigDaddyLovaLova”. I’m gonna need to see a notarized divorce decree, buddy.
5. Mr. Love Jones = This is the guy that sends you an email with some sort of poem…that is clearly a template used for all of his initial correspondence. “I want to run my fingers thru your long, flowing hair” Uh, my hair is neither long or flowing. But thanks. I feel like I should be snapping my fingers while reading his flowery words of love. “Your eyes light a fire in my soul and looking at your picture, I realize that my life was shades of grey until I met you and now I see all the colors of the rainbow.” *dead*
6. Mr. Baby Daddy = If your profile lists 3 or more kids under “Children” and Relationship Status as “Never Married”…well, sorry. You seem to be high risk for being a “Cootie Carrier.” I can’t afford to take that risk since I’m recovering from water cancer.
7. Mr. Imposter = This is the guy with a profile picture of Sonny Corinthos from General Hospital. You know that ain’t you. I’m pretty sure Neil from Young & the Restless isn’t on match.com with the profile name of “thuglovin2012.” One guy had a profile picture of Shemar Moore with the screen name “LuvDokta” and has his profession listed as a Harvard educated cardio-thoracic surgeon. I almost asked if his name was Preston Burke. I guess times are tough after Dr. Christina Yang left him at the altar at the end of Season 2.
8. Mr. Ron Burgundy = This is the guy who is full of himself. You know the ones I’m referring to. “I used to play basketball overseas…I’m a baller and looking for a WOMAN who can handle me both on and OFF the court.” He usually uses the “$” in his profile name. That lets you know that you are dealing with someone who has dollar bills. That’$ right. Sigh. I just don’t have it in me to respond. But, I am super excited that Anchorman 2 is coming out!
9. Mr. Functionally Illiterate = Sigh. Why do I get a headache trying to figure out what he is saying? And for the record, “conversate” is NOT.A.WORD! Lord Almighty! If I have to read, “Im jussa kool dude lookin fo a bangin women to conversate wit” I’m gonna scream. Fellas, please know that is okay to use the singular form “woman” when referring to 1 female. Women is not the catch-all for 1 or more ladies. It refers to 2 or more females. If in doubt, please use spell-check. It’s your friend, not your enemy.
10. Mr. Crazy Fetish = I respect that some people have different interests. But taking pictures with your metal lunchbox collection that is displayed on your dining room table with the caption, “lunchbox lovin”? That is too much.
11. Mr. Race Relations = This is the guy who states explicitly in the first line of his profile that he DOES NOT date black women (even though he may actually be black himself). But he emails you to let you know that he will make an exception for you. Um, thanks???? But I don’t need affirmative action to help level the dating playing field.
12. Mr. Right = I haven’t found him yet but I am confident that he is out there…somewhere. Seriously. Help me find him, y’all. It takes a village.
I’ve pre-paid for 3 months of this. Pray for me.
To quote the 1950 film, Sunset Boulevard, “All right, Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my close-up.” What woman doesn’t want to do a boudoir photo shoot and be all glam & sexy? I started out buying this package with the intent to lose all this weight and be like, “BAM! How you like me now?”…but, that didn’t quite work out. Ha! Rather than reschedule the shoot (again) until I can look like Skeletor from HeMan, I realized that I was focused on the wrong thing. I have historically taken a Nation of Islam approach to weight loss…by any means necessary. Be it Atkins (staying in Phase 1 forever), starvation, weight loss pills, being a workout fiend…you name it, I was doing it. The problem was I couldn’t maintain the “extreme measures lifestyle”. Even when I lost a lot of weight (and in some cases, maybe too much), I was never satisfied. I always found something I needed to improve. Something that was imperfect. What I saw in the mirror wasn’t what other people in reality saw when they looked at me. All I saw were all of my failures, insecurities, baggage, failed relationships, bad decisions, etc.
When I told my best friend that I thought the leather seats in my car needed Botox because they were cracked from all of my weight sitting on it, she told me to put the crack pipe down. If only. I mean, couldn’t she see that if I was on crack then I’d be skinny? Now, I may be trying to steal her dvd player for a “weight loss hit” but I’d still be thin!
I have been caught up in the “industry” standard of beauty for so long, I can’t remember a time when I was ever satisfied in my own skin. I felt I looked more like Ursula the Sea Witch from The Little Mermaid than Princess Tiana from Princess & the Frog. I would covet the figures on magazine covers that sold me a faux reality based heavily on airbrush & illusions. I thought, “If I eat 3 beans a day, I can look like that!” But it never happened because I’m just not built that way and there came a point when my sanity broke thru the haze of phentermine & 2-a-day workouts & I realized I was miserable AND hungry. I wanted a biscuit and could care less about skinny jeans.
Then it hit me…it’s okay to be “imperfect.” I figure that if God created me this way, then I am perfect in His eyes and that is all that matters. Now, am I trying to look like Precious and run off with a bucket of chicken? No (although some chicken does sound good…focus Nikki). I am just taking a smarter approach to weight loss and changing my mindset. I eat what I want in moderation and workout. I am focusing on pushing myself beyond my preconceived limits (both mentally, physically and emotionally). In the here and now, I decided to strip myself bare & accept myself as I am. By allowing myself to be photographed like this, I am telling myself that it is okay to be me.
I’m not Naomi Campbell thin (and my iPhone 4 cost too much to throw at someone…they can get my old Motorola). I’ve never had the figure of a supermodel and I want a bowl of ice cream just thinking about being a size 0. The only way I will ever be that size is to smoke crack and meth with a side of smack. Healthy for me is being a size 8/10 and having a some junk in the trunk…to keep me warm in the winter. I have decided to define beauty for myself as I strive to get back to that size. I am committing myself to living a healthy lifestyle and seeing how far I can push myself in certain physical endeavors (i.e. marathons & triathlons).
Honestly, I’m just trying to be happy with myself. To that end, I figured I’d release my poorly hidden diva (because y’all know I am the first one to jump in front of a camera) and get my photo shoot on. I can pick out plenty of things I need to work on but I choose to see someone who doesn’t look half bad. So, I’m not going to make excuses and say the camera added 20 pounds, because as Shakira would say “hips don’t lie.” I’m just going to continue on my journey and look as fabulous as I can until I reach my destination!
I know this has felt like a “Dear Diary” entry but there is a key difference…Holly Hobby isn’t on the cover and my brother isn’t trying to crack the code to spill everything to my parents during dinner. Special shout out to Sarah at Sarah Esther Photography who handled the shoot. She is FAB-U-LOUS! I really cannot say enough great things about her. Sarah is so creative & her work is phenomenal! In fact, she is photographing my brother’s wedding this summer. Girl’s got skills! She’s also running another boudoir photo special so definitely check her out!
Without further ado, here are a few pics from the shoot (which were shot at the W Hotel in Buckhead). Thanks for listening to me share my hangups and entertaining my vanity!
What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas…unless it’s funny & juicy, then it’s shared on my blog! And, have I got some stories for y’all. My BFF, Isina, joined me in the big LV for the weekend and we had a FAB-U-LOUS time!
Of course, y’all know how my luck rolls so craziness greeted us at the airport shuttle. Isina is now a firm believer in the fact that I am a crazy people magnet.
Airport Shuttle AKA “WTF?”
Sigh. This is going to be pretty long so sit back and make sure you have something to snack on. Isina and I arrive at the Vegas airport and decide to take the airport shuttle since it was $7 (a taxi probably wouldn’t have been much more but we didn’t know that at the time). We arrive at the shuttle stand, buy our tickets and find the proper line. There are about 15 or so. The queues are organized by number. You’ll have 2 queues per stand (i.e. signs for shuttles 1 and 2 are in the same section).
We head for the sign that says “2” and stand in the queue thinking a shuttle will be along shortly (because the line was fairly long). Wrong. After 20 minutes, a bus sidles on up and fills up pretty quick so we are left to wait for the next shuttle…which takes another 20-25 minutes. We are now towards the front of the line. It’s not complicated and we have just seen that the system can work. But, it wouldn’t be my story if things worked out perfectly. So, as the second shuttles pulls up, we work out a plan that I will stay in line to make sure the bags make the shuttle and Isina will save us a seat. Well, a rogue line that I hadn’t been paying attention to (they were loitering over by queue #3) made a mad dash and rushed onto the shuttle so those of us who had stood in line were left out. I was like, “Wait a minute. What just happened?”
Then I had a revelation. You know who have the biggest problems with habitual line jumpers? Old people. They can’t handle it. I don’t know if it’s the fact that they feel their time on earth could be up at any moment or what. But, they will bust a cap over someone cutting in front of them. I had the pleasure of witnessing 2 such incidents. It all happened when the bus driver (who is now opening the back of the bus to start loading luggage) stated that if you are in line, you aren’t getting on the bus and need to move your bags because the bus is full. Why did he say that? That set it off.
Mr. Vernon Dursley (I swear he looked just like Harry Potter’s uncle) got this wild eye look and was like, “OH HELL NO! WE WERE HERE FIRST!” But that didn’t make any waves. Then, he was like, “THEY JUMPED THE LINE! THEY WEREN’T STANDING IN LINE #2. I TOLD THEM THAT THE LINE STARTED AT THE OTHER END AND THEY SAID NOT TO WORRY BECAUSE THERE WOULD BE ENOUGH ROOM ON THE BUS!!! KICK THEIR ASSES OFF!!! I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS SHIT!!! KENO DON’T PLAY ITSELF!!! SHIT!” The bus driver’s reply? “I’M KICKING ALL THESE MUTHA FUCKAS OFF THE BUS!!!” It was like he was speaking to himself but I was like, “Um, if you are kicking them off, does that mean there is room for us?” Just sayin’.
Alas, he didn’t kick them off but he and Mr. Dursley started going at it. Clearly, he doesn’t know how Mr. D can get…I mean, he made Harry live in a cupboard under the stairs for 9 years! Get back on the shuttle, bus driver!!! But, he decided to try his luck…because it’s Vegas, I guess. Anyway, he disappears for a few minutes, then comes back and gets into it with Mr. D again.
Just long enough for another guy to show up. This man had to be 104 years old if a day…he was wearing khaki pants pulled up to his nipples, a flowered shirt and had cotton in his ears…he was old y’all. So, Father Time had been grinning and seemed to be in a happy place. Then, it turned on a dime. Another shuttle worker shows up to defuse the situation with the bus driver and Mr. D. He’s a black guy who is probably in his mid-30s (who I will call Ice Cube). So, as Cube is trying to calm down Mr. D, Father Time hops up and starts waving his shuttle receipt in Cube’s face and screams “WHAAAATTTT TTHHHEEE FUUUUCCKKK?” I was like, “oh hell, here we go.” Father Time then screams out “WHAT THE FUCK? I’VE BEEN WAITING FORTY-FIVE MUTHA FUCKIN MINUTES FOR A MUTHA FUCKIN SHUTTLE AND IT HASN’T SHOWN UP MUTHA FUCKIN YET. GIVE ME MY MUTHA FUCKIN REFUND BEFORE I FUCK YOU UP!” Father Time is gangsta. I wasn’t all that confident that he wasn’t carrying.
So, Cube was like, “Who the fuck is this old mutha fucka talking to?” Then, he does something unexpected (and not very customer service friendly)…he starts screaming back at Father Time. He says, “WHO THE FUCK YOU TALKIN TO? YOU BETTA WATCH YO’SELF! I DON’T PLAY THAT SHIT. GET YO ASS BACK IN LINE OR GET THE FUCK OUT. YOU AIN’T GOTTA TAKE A SHUTTLE…GET A FUCKIN CAB!!” FT screams back, “GIVE ME A MUTHA FUCKIN’ REFUND AND I’LL TAKE A CAB.” Cube, “AIN’T NO REFUNDS, BITCH (the bitch part was implied)!” It just got really real y’all.
I was shocked that Father Time had such a potty mouth. I mean, nobody knows when their time is up but when you are looking like Cocoon and clearly your number could be called any day…I just thought he’d be acting better. You know how folks get religious when they get older to get a few more credits when they get to the Pearly Gates? Like, “Hey Pete? Can I call you Pete instead of Peter? I mean, I feel like we’re boys since I read my Bible every day after I turned 50. Can you tell Jesus I’m here? Picked up my water at reception…just need him to turn it into some Chardonnay. Thanks!” Maybe Father Time had a slip up? I mean, how are you going to explain the cuss out in Vegas to Peter???
Now, during this whole show, Isina had been looking for a taxi so she missed everything. When she walked up, I calmly explained that she had missed a fight. Because you don’t act all excited when crazy is close by. You don’t know what could set them off again. Kinda like earthquake aftershocks.
So, the shuttle finally takes off without us and the crazies on it. That’s when Mr. D feels that he has found a friend in me and wants to talk it out. Sigh. Why? This happens to me dang near every trip! But, I listen as he explains what happened for the 10th time (like I wasn’t there when it happened or when he explained it the previous 9 times). Here is a transcript of the convo:
Mr. Dursley: DID YOU SEE THOSE PEOPLE JUMP THE LINE? I TOLD THEM THAT THE LINE FOR SHUTTLE BUS 2 WAS AT THE OTHER END BUT THEY SAID IT WAS COOL AND THAT EVERYBODY COULD GET ON. CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT? THEY JUMPED THE LINE AND RUSHED ONTO THE BUS? PEOPLE LIKE THAT ARE A MENACE TO SOCIETY.
Me: You are right. I can’t believe it. It’s shocking.
Mr. D: Karma is going to come back and get them bad. They will lose at every game they play.
Me: *giggling because he is now the white Celie from The Color Purple…all that was missing was the hand gesture with the fingers* You are right, ugliness never wins, sir.
Mr. D: I’m calling someone about this.
Me: Yeah, you can’t let this go.
Mr. D then decides he’s exhausted telling the story to those around him and now needs to call up his homies. So, he tells Mrs. D (Petunia) to watch the line and make sure no rogue jumpers cut in while he is 2 feet away screaming the story into his phone. Mr. D gets on the phone and in the middle of telling his story, he sees a couple of women who are in line #3. But, they apparently have drifted too close to line #2 because he pauses his phone call, gives a pointed look to Petunia cuz she is apparently slipping on the line protection job, and yells out to the women “ARE YOU WAITING FOR SHUTTLE BUS #2 BECAUSE IF YOU ARE, YOU NEED TO GET TO THE END OF THE MUTHA FUCKIN LINE BECAUSE AIN’T GOING TO BE NO MORE LINE CUTTING AROUND HERE. I’M MISSING OUT ON BLACKJACK BEHIND THIS SHIT.” They were like, “No sir, we are waiting on shuttle #3.” So he leaves them alone and goes back to his call. After the call, he walks the 2 feet back to the head of the line, notices the 2 women again…and again says, ““ARE YOU WAITING FOR SHUTTLE BUS #2 BECAUSE IF YOU ARE, YOU NEED TO GET TO THE END OF THE MUTHA FUCKIN LINE BECAUSE AIN’T GOING TO BE NO MORE LINE CUTTING AROUND HERE.” They calmly tell him again that they were waiting on shuttle bus #3. Five minutes pass… nobody has moved but he sees a leaf or something and takes notice of the 2 SAME LADIES FOR A THIRD TIME AND GOES THRU THE WHOLE THING AGAIN! At this point, they are shutting him down and Mrs. D can’t be found because she is embarrassed. I’m entertained.
After all of that, we finally get on the bus after Cube comes over and asks which bus we were waiting on. As we are riding to the hotel, we see that the shuttle with the line jumpers had broken down right outside the airport. Mr. D was like, “THAT’S KARMA BITCH!” Glorious.
Have you ever dreamed of living abroad in an exotic city? Maybe you’ve been thinking about it since taking a foreign language course…or maybe you have given it serious thought after a great trip overseas. An expatriate (in abbreviated form, expat) is a person temporarily or permanently residing in a country and culture other than that of the person’s upbringing (Wikipedia). I interviewed my favorite expat, Renee Sterling, to give us insight into the intoxicating world of life overseas. Renee has lived in London for 3 years. While I was sad to see her move, I was excited for this new phase in her life. Ironically, I see her now more than I did when we were both living in the same city! Whenever I am overseas, she makes it a point to meet up with me in whatever fabulous country I’m visiting. Renee has been the best travel buddy a girl could ask for and has inspired me to move abroad as well 🙂
Q. What inspired you to move abroad?
A. Really, it was the idea of living in another country and experiencing its culture. I have always wanted to do this before I settled down and started a family. It also gives me the opportunity to travel the world.
Q. How did you decide on London?
A. I learned that Goldman Sachs was sponsoring a “City Fellowship Program” where it recruits minorities with 2 to 3 years of experience and places them in a Finance or Operations role for 1 year in their London office. At the time, I felt that this was superb because I would gain great work experience with a global investment bank and if I didn’t like it, I could return home after my 1 year commitment was up.
Q. How did you prepare for your move (i.e. visa, what did you do with your car, phone, etc.)?
A. Prior to moving, I had to considering a number of things. Such as getting my property rented, selling the furniture from my apartment in Atlanta (the properties are much smaller in Europe and they may not accommodate the large-sized furniture sold in America), sorting out which items to leave behind, organizing my financial documents so that I could set up a bank account, and reaching out to friends who live in London and to ask about areas to live. Fortunately, I did not have to prepare much with regards to visa because my firm sponsored me. However, if one wants to move to the UK, one can apply for Tier 1 Visa. The details and requirements can be obtained from UK Home Border Agency website (Editor’s note: the Tier 1 General Visa was discontinued as of April 6, 2011 so you will need to apply under a different category). If you live in Zone 1 – Zone 3 in London, you do not need a car. It is actually pointless to have a car because there is a daily congestion fee if you drive through the city and parking and gas are expensive. You are paying gas by the litre! With regards to cell phones, initially I was on a pay as you go plan in the UK. I did this because I was unsure on whether I would be staying in London. Once I decided to stay for the long term, I entered into a 2 year contract. I believe one has to be a resident in the UK for at least 18 months before signing into a contract.
Q. What factors should people take into account when considering a move overseas (i.e. job, salary, living conditions, etc.)?
A. Prior to moving, make sure that you have money set aside to account for property search and consider additional expenses. In the UK, the tenants pay a council tax. Additionally, if you have a television and wish to subscribe to cable, you will have to pay a TV license. (Editor’s note: You should try to find a job where the company will sponsor your visa and negotiate a salary based on the cost of living in London…not your current cost of living).
Q. What’s the best way to go about renting a flat in London? How do you decide on what area to rent in?
A. There are a number of ways to go about renting a flat. When I arrived in London, I was placed with a property locating agency compliments of my firm. Which was great because the agent was given a budget and she found properties based on my criteria. You can use estate agencies (which can be costly), websites (such as gumtree or Flatshare), and internal correspondence. I moved a year ago and the flat that I now live in is from an internal post. The property market in London is in a class by itself. If you see a flat, you need to get it ASAP. Also, in order to secure it, you have to pay one week’s rent in advance. In London, the rent is quoted by the week so do not be deceived. In addition to paying one week’s rent, you will also have to pay for a background check and, if approved, you will need to make a 6 week deposit. Assuming it is a respectable estate agent, if you leave the flat in a good place, you will get your money back. On the other hand, if you go with a private landlord, it may be cheaper but you are not as protected.
Q. What’s the best thing about living abroad?
A. I love living in London because there is always something to do such as catching a show in the West End, attending a musical festival, or checking out an art exhibit. Additionally, it provides me with opportunities to see the world. Since I have been there, I have visited so many countries such as Cyprus, Holland, Scotland, Thailand, Italy, Spain, France, Czech Republic, Germany, and Belgium and I still have so many more places that I want to check out. Lastly, I fell in love with a great guy and we are still together 3 years later.
Q. What’s the worst thing about living abroad?
A. The worst thing about living abroad is that I miss my friends and family who are unable to see me because it is too far. While Facebook has allowed us to stay in touch, it is still not the same as sharing these moments in person.
Q. What’s your advice to people considering a move overseas?
A. If it is in your heart to move overseas, you should do it! I would definitely say to make sure you have a sizeable budget to account for moving expenses and, if applicable, try to find a job before moving.
International Travel Chick 