No One Is Happy Being Fat

In the several years that I’ve been blogging, I’ve pissed off and offended many people. I’ve pissed off my sister, friends, and fellow bloggers. My father was in for a bit of an uncomfortable shock when he stumbled upon my blog heralding the joys of oral sex. Hey, everyone is forewarned!

Then there was the time I pissed off the Christians by saying how creepy I found it when random ones would approach me in parking lots asking if I had given any consideration to where I’d spend eternity. Um, not recently, but I am considering giving you snoutful of this mace in my purse. After that, I pissed of an Asian girl when I wrote an open letter to all the Asian girls on my campus. Listen, it’s not my fault they all dress like they’re going to the club instead of class.

Along the way there have been countless more, I’m sure – white people when I talk about white boys going white boy crazy, Floridians when I say it’s the child molester capital of the world, black people when I wonder why they can’t ever get their ass to a movie on time and then shut the fuck up while it’s on, Republicans simply for being douchebags, etc., etc.

Today, I’m gonna piss off fat people.

(Writer’s Note: It is truly not my intention to piss anyone off. I just like to say that I am. It keeps you reading. This is meant to be equal part humor, self-deprecation, and motivation. This is for all the people who complain about their weight, yet won’t do anything about it – at least not consistently. And I’m throwing stones at my glass walls. If you are fat/overweight (whatever word you like) and happy with yourself, then do you, boo. Do you.)

Being fat sucks. Anyone who is fat and says they are happy are lying. No one is happy being fat. Sure, you can be fat and have a great job. You can be fat and married to the man/woman of your dreams. You can be fat and have the most wonderful kids and the most fabulous friends. You can be fat and go on the most luxurious of vacations every year. You can be fat and drive a nice car, screw a hot girl, and wear the most expensive clothes. And all of those things may make you happy, but you are not happy being fat.

And if you say you are, you’re a big fat liar.

I don’t care what else is going on in your life, if someone told you that you could swallow one pill and get rid of that FUPA or stop having your muffin top muffining over the top of your jeans, you’d swallow that bitch before they could offer you a glass of water.

I am overweight. Yes, most of you are thinking, “It’s okay. You just had a baby.” Well, yeah, but that doesn’t make me any less overweight. Today I told a friend (who is a self-proclaimed “fattie”) that I lost six pounds since last week and recently discovered that I not only fit into a pair of pre-pregnancy jeans, but they are falling off! Instead of being happy for me, she informed that I am not fat. I am a fat faker. Apparently, I am faking the fat funk. She told me that I can no longer use the word fat as it would be considered offensive since I do not belong to the fat club.

OK, sure, I’m not obese or anything, but I am not comfortable. And I knew this would happen. For whatever reason, I turn into a beast when I’m pregnant. I just do. It’s all la la la until the third trimester and then my footsteps on the second floor have Donny casting wary glances at the ceiling and wondering if the flat screen one the first floor is mounted to the wall securely.

When you are fat.. I mean, overweight, it is always there. When you’re playing on the floor with your kids, the fat is crouched in the corner, a reminder that you’d be able to play more and without losing your breath if you’d just lose 20lbs. When you’re typing away on the laptop, the fat reminds you that a year ago the laptop rested on smaller, firmer, thighs. When you walk into your closet the fat reminds you that there’s a whole wardrobe you can no longer fit.

I have felt all of those things and it sucks. And if I feel that, if I know the dread that comes with being invited out, but turning down the invitation because you can’t wear your nice clothes and can’t bear to buy something new in your new fat size, then I’m sure people who are fat/obese are downright miserable.

I used to get so mad watching Star Jones on The View. She’d always make remarks about how confident she was with this “big is beautiful/more to love” bravado. The whole time though, she’s breathing heavily and coughing up powdered sugar. If you’re out of breath from talking while sitting, something ain’t right. I thought the message she was putting out was a dangerous one. I believe in personal responsibility, but I wondered how many women with weight problems were watching and let that pump them up or allow them to lie to themselves. Now, after surgery, she admits that her health was in danger and she was unhappy. No shit.

It sucks when you let the fat stop you from living your life. Let me tell you a story: A few years ago I had discovered Myspace after one of the best seasons of Big Brother (one of my favorite reality shows.) One night, I was looking for friends on the site when I remembered reading that one of the stars of that last season, James R., had been discovered for the show from his Myspace page. I looked him up and sent him a friend request. I knew nothing about Myspace and how it worked. Then I started blogging and building a small audience. One of the first people not related to me to leave a comment on a blog was James. We became friends. A short while later, his girlfriend at the time called to invite me to a surprise dinner party for James. My first thought was that I wouldn’t go because I wasn’t happy with my weight.

I should point out now that:

1. James is hot.

2. No matter how much I love my husband, I will always be one of those women who likes looking her best when in the presence of a good looking man. It doesn’t mean that I love my husband any less or will be any less faithful. But if given a choice, I will always choose NOT to look a hot ass mess around hot guys. And if one of those hot guys should be so bold as to smile and tell me how great I look, I will smile, blush, and get all atwitter at the compliment. It’s how I roll.

I got over my stupid issues, went to the birthday party, and had a great time. I was looking at pics from that night the other day and thought, “What the hell was I smoking?” I would kick a puppy down a flight of stairs to look like that now! Now? Sheeit. Now, James could be pounding on my front door, battered and bruised with a homicidal maniac hot on his ass, and I wouldn’t let him in till I lost 20lbs. I’m just saying.

I have delayed meeting up with an old friend I recently found on Facebook because of baby weight. I have dreaded visits from out-of-town internet friends because of this baby weight. I have turned down invitations for Donny and I to go out to dinner with friends. I have avoided going to my husband’s job because I’m so annoyed with myself and this weight.

And if I’m “not that fat” and I’m living like this, I can only imagine what truly overweight people are feeling and how much life they’re not living. (For the record, I consider myself truly overweight. Being 5′11 only gives you but so much in the way of camouflage.)

There are a bunch of reasons why people can’t/won’t lose weight. Some of it’s medical. Some of it’s just poor lifestyle choices. In my case, there’s this vicious cycle going on. I know how to lose weight. When I focus and get into it, not only do I lose weight quickly, I enjoy it! And because I know I can do it, it’s easier to procrastinate getting started. It’s convenient to say, “I know I can lose 20lbs in three months so who is it going to hurt if I start next week over this one?” The problem is next week turns into the week after and then the week after that.

Who knows? Maybe I have it all wrong. Maybe there are people out there quite loving their flabby bellies and back fat. Maybe there are people out there who, for whatever reason, have just decided to ride the fat thing out. But for those that aren’t happy, for those that can go days with feeling fine until they have to try on a piece of clothing that no longer fits or run into an ex, I hope they/we do something about it. I think we need to make those unhappy moments the rule and not the exception. We need to remember how much we hate it when deciding between fast food and a home cooked meal. We need to remember how much we hate it when we decide to take the elevator over the stairs.

We need to make the decision to be happy and healthy.

***

So, I just had a convo with my friend who is now calling me a fat faker and she feels as if I’m coming off as attacking fat people. Granted, she hasn’t yet read the blog as I type this and this is based on our IM conversation about the blog.

Let me be clear:

• I understand that I am approaching the weight thing from a totally different perspective than someone who has been overweight for many years or their whole life.
• I understand that it is possible to gain weight and like it. Been there. Done that. Rocked the t-shirt. I was a rail before I got pregnant with Kali. I still have clothes from that time and I wouldn’t want to be that skinny again. I liked my post-Kali body once I got it in order. Finally, no more white girl butt! The problem became when I gained 30lbs after that and only lost 20 of that 30 before getting pregnant with Jack. This weight, I’m not happy with.
• Anyone that has been reading me for awhile knows that I don’t make broad generalizations. Of course there are happy fat people. And I’m sure there are people who are happy who happen to be fat and happy WITH THE FAT. I may not understand it, but I’m sure it exists. And come on, would you click on a blog titled, “I’m Sure There Are Fat People Who Like Being Fat, But I’m Not One Of ‘Em. No Offense To You If You’re a Happy Fatty?” I think not.
• I do think people make excuses and I think that making excuses is always easier than putting in the work. Not all overweight people, but some. Definitely people like me. It’s easy to say that eating something that tastes good but is bad for you makes you happy. It’s hard to say that maybe you shouldn’t be eating it right now or that the portion is too big.
• I always say that bad things can happen to good people who are where they’re supposed to be and doing what they’re supposed to be doing. You can be in great shape and get cancer. Knowing that, why take the chance on getting heart disease or diabetes because you can’t control your eating habits?
• My children didn’t ask to be here and I owe it to them to not die at 40 because Mommy couldn’t stop stuffing her face with bad foods.
• If you are overweight and happy with it, I’d like to hear from you.

If you are happy being fat, good for you. For me…

BIOBaby: The Well Visit

I hate taking my kids to the doctor. I always have. Besides the obvious fear that one day the doctor is going to tell you that there’s something really wrong with one of your children, I just find the whole experience one big collosal pain in the ass. Mainly, because I’m forced to be around other people and their children and I hate other people and their children. I really do.

When your baby is sick he’s already fussy and cranky. Now, I gotta deal with that around a bunch of other fussy and cranky children and to make matters worse, I run the risk of catching whatever your child has. I don’t mind catching my own baby’s sick, but I don’t want your kid’s cooties! I don’t even want to look at your kid. Stop letting your snot-nosed kid come up to me in the waiting room! I wouldn’t like your kid when he’s well, I damn sure don’t like him with goo coming out of his nose

The process sucks too. We all know that it’s all about the sign-in. Don’t matter what time your appointment was scheduled for, or what time you got there, or which doctor you’re going to see, it’s all about who signs in first. I will knock a pregnant woman holding a sick toddler down a flight of stairs to sign in first. For reals. And then I head to the “Well” side to wait for my kid’s name to be called. Even if he’s not “well.” Don’t look at me like that! Ear infections are not contagious! Why should he sit amongst the nasty? When he did have a cold, I just went to the private room and nursed him the whole time so we wouldn’t have to be in the waiting room. Don’t judge me!

Though, it’s not like being called first really means anything. We all know that you’re just being called first to wait for an additional 20 minutes in the examining room while the doctor does God knows what. Of all three parts – waiting, waiting some more, and seeing the doctor – the part that goes by the quickest is seeing the doctor. In fact, most parents know what the diagnosis and remedy is going to be before going. Ear infection? Children’s Tylenol and antibiotics. Cold? Saline drops, humidifier, suction, lots of breastmilk.

But we go anyway because most of us didn’t have the foresight to marry a pediatrician.

P.S. I think the “well” side of the waiting room should be separated using those heavy-duty plastic curtains like at the food warehouses.

Bagel Outrage

I’m not one of those Yankees that moves to the south and constantly bashes it. I’m not going to rant about how the people can’t drive (they can’t) and how if there’s the tiniest sprinkling of moisture in the air they drive slower than my grandfathers (they do; who are both dead and one was legally blind), or how you can’t find a decent slice of pizza to save your northern heart (you can’t), or how there are still pockets of racial intolerance (there are.)

Why? Because the south has several redeeming qualities that make all of the above tolerable. Two of which are sweet tea and great houses at reasonable prices.

But I’ve come across a greater atrocity that cannot be ignored any longer. The inability to find a decent bagel in the state of Georgia. Newsflash: Lender’s bagels aren’t bagels. Thomas’ bagels aren’t bagels. I need a New York City deli bagel. Think a massive hunk of carbs that makes your jaw hurt when you chew it. Slather on some cream cheese and that’s a meal. Add a cup of steaming coffee and that’s heaven. I can’t find that here and after 15 years I can’t take it anymore.

The final rapage of the fine delicacy that is a bagel? The Olsen twins revealed on Oprah that one of them (I don’t know, nor care, which) scoops out the inside of a bagel and adds cream cheese to it before she eats it. Let me repeat that. She scoops out the inside of the bagel. What the fuck? What’s the point? That’s like eating a pizza without cheese. A hot dog without mustard. It’s pointless. And un-American. Barbara Bachmann should be calling an investigation of that.

One of Those Days

Maybe it was the 6am fucking migraine… my 4th in one week… but it certainly didn’t help that the first blog I read today (and immediately unsubbed from) was a race rant. By a white person that obviously doesn’t get it, want to get it, and never will get it.

If I hear one more white person say, “black people should get over it,” I’m gonna go black girl crazy. There seems to be this often unspoken belief amongst some white people that black people are still angry over slavery. Listen, everyone should feel “some kinda way” when they think of slavery. It was fucked up. It doesn’t matter who started it, who ended, who else participated, etc. It was a fucked up system that made many white people rich, that helped propel this country, literally on the backs of people that were treated like animals. Period. When you think about what happened then, and when you think about what happened to the Jews during the Holocaust, when you think about James Byrd being dragged behind a fucking truck, when you think about the murder of Matthew Shepard, when you think about any act of pure fucking evil that has occured be it in your lifetime or not, you should have a feeling about it.

White people cannot act like all black people are still pointing at slavery and saying, “This country did black people wrong.” Though, if they did, there’s not shit anyone can say in rebuttal because it’s the damn truth! They’re not lying. But the fact is that most black people in 2008 don’t have to go back 300+ years to be angry.  My grandmother is in her 80’s and I’ll be damned if I’m going to tell her to “get over it.” She still remembers what it’s like to be restricted in this country because of her skin color. When you witness your brother getting his ass beaten because he stopped to help a white woman pick up her fallen groceries, it does something to you. And fuck anyone who thinks it doesn’t. She’s supposed to “get over it” because for the last 30-40 years or so this country has made an attempt to start acting right?

Hell, Sophie is 33 and only has to go as far back as high school to remember the last time she was called a nigger, to her face. I only have to go back a few years to remember calling a local nightclub in Texas and asking about what type of music and activities went on during certain nights of the week. I was new to town and wanted an idea of what type of crowd this club attracted, what was appropriate attire, etc. I was having a nice little conversation with the manager as he explained that there was a techno night, a salsa night, and a hip-hop night… but then he warned that I might not want to come to the latter because a lot of “coloreds” attended those nights. I looked at my husband (now ex-husband), who is black and shook my head. He said later that he’d never seen the look on my face on anyone his whole life.

It was around that same time that a white man in the United States Navy told my husband, who had graduated with honors and an engineering degree from Temple University, completed Officer Candidate School and flight training at Pensacola, that he must have been accepted to fill a quota.

So, it pisses me off when I read blogs asking questions such as, “Why do black people still complain about racism when Barack Obama is doing so well?” Oooh, thank you, white people! Thank you sooo much for voting for a black man. All must be well then. Racism is over! Why didn’t somebody tell us?

That blog had hundreds of comments with a bunch of white people doing a whole bunch of, “You tell ‘em!” And I knew some of them! Kiss my ass. If you were “fortunate” enough to be born in this country, and not have to ever have wondered if you are being denied something because of what you look like or are (be it black, fat, gay, a woman, hispanic, ugly, etc.) then just thank your lucky fucking stars and move on. But don’t act like this country is so damn perfect and that there aren’t millions of people being midjudged, mistreated, discriminated against, etc., because they are black. And when it happens, don’t brush it off and tell people to “get over it.”

Ugh, one of those damn days. So much so in fact that I reserve the right to delete any fucking comment on my own damn blog that annoys me. Anyone who doesn’t like it can unsubscribe. And I absofuckinglutely mean it. In fact, I encourage it. It may help with the headaches.

Also pissing me off? The American Family Association and founder, Mr. Wildmon who apparently has nothing fucking better to do with his time than to mobolize a bunch of like-minded bigots to boycott a TV show and it’s sponsors. Why? Because it shows two men kissing! *gasp*

If you don’t agree with homosexuality for whatever reason, don’t watch the fucking show. Don’t push your agenda down my damn throat and disguise it as you trying to protect my children. You let me worry about what my child watches and understands.

If you feel that your child is too young to understand homosexuality or anything else displayed on a program then, by all means, monitor what YOUR child watches. But don’t promote your hate by suggesting others boycott the show’s sponsors and encourage people to spew your filth to the show’s creators.

Why is that these family values groups think it’s their job to decide MY values and control what’s on TV? You don’t like it, don’t fucking watch it!  The site includes a link to the kiss and warns that it’s “repulsive.” I find the website repulsive. And if you do too, I encourage you to contact the same sponsors and the show (linked at the site) and encourage them to not bow to the pressure of homophobic morons.

Click here.

Just so it’s clear, ’cause I don’t think I was very clear…

If you click that link it will take you to the asshole’s website. He has links to the show and Proctor and Gamble. He is encouraging people to contact them and threaten to not watch the show or buy the products if they don’t pull the gay scenes from their show.

If you disagree, as I do, then I’m encouraging you to contact those same people and show your support. Tell them not to back down.

Accountability

This morning on GMA they were talking about this video all over You Tube in which some cop loses his shit on a teenage boy skating where he wasn’t supposed to. When the officer approaches the kids we don’t know what happened because one of the teenagers didn’t think to turn on his cell phone camera until the officer was already good and hot. Apparently, on the video, one of the boys gets really disrespectful and mouthy. He keeps calling the officer “dude” which just pisses the officer off more especially after he instructs him not to.

Now I understand that cops are held to a higher standard and as an adult he’s supposed to know better. I don’t argue his suspension with pay punishment. What bothers me is that the mother and kid are now making the interview rounds going on about how unfairly her son was treated and the son even went so far as to say that his mouthy disrespect was the officer’s fault. “He should be nice.” Cops aren’t paid to be nice. And why do these parents do this? (Note Frogger, not a broad generalization of ALL parents, but these particular parents.) I’m talking about these parents that defend their children’s screwed up behavior because someone else happened to screw up more. Making their child somehow less accountable for their actions or not accountable at all.

I’m pissed off that the mother even granted interviews. Yeah, the cop was wrong and your son or the other kid obviously leaked the video online and gave it to the cop’s superiors. He got in trouble, but that doesn’t mean you get to excuse or ignore the fact that your son was a law breaking smartass.  Maybe my parents are just freakin’ awesome, but my Dad would have taken one look at the video and admitted that though the cop was wrong my behavior has consequences as well. What a disservice to this child that he’s not being shown how wrong he was.  Does this just bolster his disrespectful attitude? What happens when he lips off to someone not held by the standards of the law?  Someone who would just as soon shoot his ass as look at him.

Which brings me to the next piss me off story. A young 14 year old black boy approached an off duty cop as he sat in his car using a laptop. The boy pulled out a gun and demanded the man hand the laptop over. As he did so though, the off duty cop had his service revolver under the laptop and shot the boy dead. Now his family is crying foul. Nevermind the fact that at 14 he had a rap sheet longer than my dick. (OK, I totally realize that line sounds better in movies… when said by men.) They interviewed the uncle who briefly admitted that the boy had criminal problems, BUT he was only 14! And that is somehow the cop’s fault? He should have taken a bullet because the shooter is young and has his whole life ahead of him? A long life of crime unfortunately.  The uncle goes on to say that they just want to make sure the cops aren’t covering anything up. My people, my people, not everything is a damn conspiracy.

Maybe because I was raised by cops, but mostly I think it’s due to being raised with some common sense, but I choose the life of the cop over the life of the bad guy everytime. People who shoot at cops don’t give a shit if the cop has kids at home. And if cops have to start worrying about negative press and racial accusations when they’re staring down the barrel of a gun, we’re screwed. if a black man has a gun on me and there’s a white cop there that can stop him… “Fuck Al Sharpton, officer. You better shoot his ass!” Cops aren’t perfect. Even the bonafide good ones. But say what you want, if someone is breaking into your house, jackin’ your ride, or trying to put his penis in you against your will, you’ll be happy to see a cop show up.

Finally, another news story that annoyed the shit out of me. You know, just because everyone is entitled to an opinion doesn’t mean we have to be afraid, as a society, to tell other people that their opinions are just stupid. A little boy was suspended from school for mouthing off to the teacher. Apparently, this was the latest in a string of behavioral problems at school. Fed up, his mother made him stand outside on a street corner holding a sign that detailed his bad behavior and an apology. She made him stand there, while she stood nearby, for three hours on the day he was supposed to be in school, but denied due to his suspension. People are all up in arms saying she went to far. The main complaint? “You shouldn’t humiliate a child.”

What?! What’s wrong with a little humiliation? Are we that afraid of letting our children experience anything negative? As much as we’d like to, we can’t stop them from being heartbroken, teased, bullied, humiliated, etc. Some things, when we know about them, can be nipped in the bud like bullying, but there’s nothing wrong with a little humiliation to learn a lesson. The whole idea behind punishment is to correct the behavior. To ensure that the child never does the offending act again. Some tactics work well with some children, while others don’t respond as well. Kali needs a good threat and rarely will we have another problem. Some kids respond to having perks taken away. Others need a foot up the ass. If humiliating his little ass makes it so that he approaches his education with a new attitude and goes on to be a productive member of society then I say he should thank his mother. And Lord knows he’s going to need all the help he can get seeing as how when talking about her child’s punishment on GMA his mother referred to “capital” punishment. I’m pretty sure she meant “corporal.”

I think the garbage man riding on the back of his truck as he passed the young sign-holder summed it up best to all the boys involved. He waggled his finger at the young boy with tears in his eyes holding the sign and said, “Be good.

Too Early In The Damn Morning For a Rant…

… but you’re getting one anyway ’cause I’m hot!

So, my friend Maven wrote a really great blog in which she talks about finding out who you are. She referenced something she read Oprah write after she’d been on trial by the cattle industry for that ridiculous lawsuit.

As usual, when Oprah is mentioned on the Space known as My (as Tralfaz likes to call it), someone has something to say about the school for girls she opened in Africa. Now, I’m going to talk about how I feel about the school and, hopefully, encourage you all to ask and answer some questions about why it seems to bother people here at home.

1) I really try not to be one of those black people that believes every time a white person does something, or says something, negative to a black person it’s about race. But, boy, some white people make it so hard.

Like when one of Donny’s white employees called his black employee, “boy” just the other day – for all of you who think things are “better” or that “those type of things don’t happen anymore.” Or like when that couple came to view our house when we were going to sell it and the husband took one look at my black ass, turned up his face, and walked out leaving his wife and their agent stunned and embarrassed. They stuttered and stammered excuses out the door.  At first I was hurt and offended and then I told Donny, “We picked out every brick outside, the stone around this fireplace, every tile on the floors, the carpet, the mirrors, the countertops, and the knobs on the cabinets with love. Fuck him. I don’t want his ignorant ass living in my house anyway.”

But I tell ya, I have wondered why I’ve never seen a black person complain about Oprah’s school in Africa. Now, before everyone gets their panties in a bunch, I think it’s a valid question.  Are some white people irritated because this rich and powerful black woman has spent her money to educate and empower little black girls?  And if there are black people reading this now that have a problem with her academy in Africa feel free to talk about it here.

2) No matter what people’s true feelings are regarding her school, and what they say may very well be their true feelings and they’re not masking anything, the main complaint voiced is, “Why did she have to do it in Africa? Why not do it here at home? I’m sure there are schools in Chicago that could use her help.”

There are so many things wrong with that way of thinking that I’m sure after I hit post on this blog I’ll be slapping my forehead for forgetting several of them. But, I’ll give it a shot.

a) Why in Africa? Um, how about the fact that when little girls are allowed an education it is almost impossible for them to get to school to obtain it. There is no public transportation. They are walking miles upon miles with inadequate clothing to get to these schools which are poor facilities with out of date books.  And that’s if they’re not the primary caregiver to their home because their parents have  died of AIDS. And that’s if they even make it there safely considering there are still a vast number of HIV-infected African men who patrol the roads raping young girls because they believe that sex with a virgin is the only way to get rid of the virus.

So, I ask you and the doubters, why NOT Africa?!

b) Why not do it here at home? (Insert any of the 50 states or any US city here) could surely use the same help.

Do we really think that Chicago needs the kind of assistance that Africa does? Seriously? A little girl born in the United States is the luckiest girl in the damn world. Oprah did a show once where she examined the lives of the 30 year old women in other countries. It was of particular interest to me because I was about 31 at the time. In one country, Jordan I believe, more women attend and graduate university than men. More women own businesses and earn more money than men. But women can’t vote.

Little girls in Africa don’t have anywhere near the number of opportunities as our children at home do. That’s a fact. The fact that we are comparing this highly developed nation to an under developed/developing one is laughable.

And let’s talk about the help Oprah, and others, have given children here at home. When people are asking, “Why Africa?” Do they stop to look at the help her Angel Network has given to schools and communities here in the states for years? Do they not care, know about, or pay attention to the Boys and Girls Clubs she has opened to give children in inner cities some place, other than the streets and drug infested parks, to go after school?

Let me tell you, I live in the mother of all suburbs. This is where soccer Moms go to die. I don’t think my town has even heard of a Boys and Girls Club because we don’t need it. This is a community where, most times, kids have a mom (like me) waiting at home when they get off the school bus – with a hug and afternoon snack waiting for them.  There are few single parent households in my subdivision. Hell, when I stand at the door and watch Kali walk to the bus stop there are three Dads waiting at the bus stop with their children. Dads.  These communities that require BGCs are the exact opposite of where I live. Does the help she provides those children not count?

Do they not care or pay attention to the schools she has helped rebuild in New Orleans or the homes she has given to the victims of Katrina? Whole subdivisions with the help of her viewers and other celebrities. If you go to her website right now you can purchase what you can to help build and furnish a home for a family that needs it.

And speaking of that, all these people pointing fingers asking what Oprah has done at home, let’s point that finger right back atcha.  What have you done?  We all pay taxes to help our local communities and you know, fund this war, but so does Oprah. Going above and beyond, and giving back, what have they done to help the schools in their areas? If you’re so worried about the conditions of the schools right here at home, what are you doing to help them?

When Bill and Melinda Gates donated all that money to African schools, where was everyone asking them, “But what have you done for the children of the United States?” Oh, wait, because we know for a fact all the charitable deeds they perform at home?

Here’s the thing, people: There are always celebrities donating money, building schools and homes for the less fortunate, etc. Sometimes it will make national news and sometimes it won’t. Sometimes we are only aware of their philanthropic deeds because the organization in which they support awards them for their efforts. Sometimes we’ll pick up the local paper and see that they were in town for a fundraising dinner. Sometimes their publicist will alert the media to what they are doing.

And finally, I am so tired of hearing that she is only helping, “her people.” Let me tell you something about “people.” Because he’s my damn husband and we can talk like to this each other, when a white person does something stupid, crazy, illegal, and it makes the news I say to Donny, “Mmm, there goes your people again.”

And he just shakes his head and says, “Those aren’t my people.”

So, one day I asked him, “Who are your people then?! You can’t just disown white people. You can’t do that. Hell, trust me, if it were that easy we’d give OJ up.”

“You are my people. You and Kali and my family.”

And after I wiped the tears from my eyes, grateful that I married such a prince, I started to wonder, “Who are my people?” Now, I can’t speak for anybody but myself, and I damn sure can’t speak for white people, but it seems that black people will have a sense of “people” about them. My people start at home, husband and child, and extends outward to include my family, and Sophie and her family who are my family, and Richard and his family, and David and Tobias and their family, etc., then my community and neighbors, and black people and the nation at large. I truly feel that way. And yes, I include black people as a whole.

It’s why I will go see a black made film with an all black cast in the theatres instead of waiting to rent it. Iwant to support them. I want to be a small drop in the massive bucket that may help more films of that kind get made. Jamie Foxx brought up an interesting point at this year’s Golden Globes. Before presenting an award he addressed his fellow colleagues and the world and pointed out that for all the awards and recognition DreamGirls received it still only showed on a small number of screens across the country.

It’s why my Mexican neighbors travel further to shop at a Mexican grocer. One, they’re more likely to have the ethnic ingredients they require, but the owners are from the same town in Mexico that they are from and they want to support “their own.”

I don’t know if that was part of Oprah’s reasoning or not. Though I do know that she, Denzel, a few other black celebrities that could afford it had their geneology (sp?) done and traced back their ancestors to the exact tribes in Africa from which they came.  So, hell, maybe she is helping “her people” more than we know.

But does it matter? I don’t think so. What I think matters is this:

Instead of criticising the whos and whys and how much of their actions, how ’bout we take a look at our own sense of stewardship?

F*ck Da Police

Lately, there has been a rise in accusations against the police here in Atlanta. It’s starting to get a bit out of control if you ask me. Anytime a black person is arrested, shot, pulled over, questioned, etc., there are investigations because the families of the suspects/perps, and special interest groups start screaming discrimination and excessive force.  This was on our local news last night…

Two teenage boys are dead tonight following a high speed chase with police. The driver and the front passenger, both 17, were killed instantly as the stolen car they were in crashed into a tree in a residential neighborhood. The police officers attempted to pull over the car because it didn’t have its headlights on. Instead of pulling over, the teenagers sped off in excess of 80 miles per hour. Four other teenage passengers are in the hospital with injuries. Tonight, the mother of the deceased driver wants answers. Cut to crying Mom clutching framed photo of her dead son who was really “a good kid.”

“I don’t see why they couldn’t just let him go. It wasn’t like a felony. Just a stolen joy ride.”

Excuse me?  So, cops are just supposed to let people go now when they fail to stop?  People with nothing to hide pull over. People who flee, well those are the exact people cops need to chase. How are they to know who’s in the car and why they’re running?  There could be someone in that car against their will. The person driving could be wanted for things a lot more serious than joy riding.

Then people complain that they shouldn’t chase them through residential neighborhoods. Ok, so perhaps people would prefer that the cops figure out a way to manuever the suspects into a closed driving course where they could just drive around in circles until someone runs out of gas or gets tired?

Newsflash: just like not all black people driving nice cars are carjackers and drug dealers, not all cops arresting black people are racists and trigger happy.

And to all of these grieving parents of young black men killed during shoot outs and car chases with police, “Give me a break, will ya?!” I know you’re sad and distraught. If something happened to Kali under any circumstance I would be distraught and probably inconsolable.  However, let’s not act like when these things happen no one saw it coming.  You don’t just have this really great kid on Monday who never got in trouble a day in his life, and on Tuesday he’s shooting at cops. That doesn’t happen. Everyone knows the people in their family, in their circle of friends, at their job, that if you found out they were killed in a shoot out with police you wouldn’t be surprised at all.

“He was a good kid in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Getting shot because someone decided to hold up the Quik Trip while you ran in for cigarettes is being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Getting hit by a car as it jumped the curb during a police chase as you exited the Starbucks is being in the wrong place at the wrong time (and is a perfect waste of a caramel macchiato, I might add), but driving a stolen car and fleeing from police until you crash into a tree is not wrong place, wrong time. It’s called getting caught.

Yes, he was black and young, and it sucks. But, how about we (black people, white people, all people) concentrate on raising our kids so that they don’t steal cars then we don’t have to worry about whether the cops should or shouldn’t let them go?

Oh, and while I’m a ranting mood. Last night I read that Foxy Brown (the rapper who hasn’t had a hit in ten years, if that) was arrested for spitting on someone (again.) What kind of nasty bitch spits on someone? I mean, besides R. Kelly and preschoolers. Who does that?  And who are these women that she’s spitting on? Surely not other black women. Because let me tell you what, I don’t care if you’re Foxy Brown, James Brown, or Charlie Brown, if you spit on me I’ma beat your ass and then guess what? We’re both going to jail. I’m not tryna hear that shit.

Sex and the City, MILFs, and Natalee Holloway

We Interrupt Your Regularly Scheduled Blog… For a Rant

Sex and the City – Don’t get me wrong. I loved that show. I own the seasons on DVD.  What bothers me are people who take their love of the show to a whole new level; Sex and the City parties and wearing t-shirts that read, “I’m A Carrie.” Every time I see that I wish I were wearing a t-shirt that said, “No, you’re a fucktard.”

I guess what really annoys me about that is the fact that the women who are geeking over it are trying to have this completely unrealistic lifestyle within the confines of their own “real worlds.”

Let’s take a look at the occupations of these women on the show; a lawyer, newspaper columnist, publicist, and art dealer…in New York City.  Yes, they can afford a pair of Manolos or two.  You, my friend work at Denny’s… in Oklahoma.  Stop walking around dressed like you’re Sarah Jessica Parker.  She’s on T.V. and the red carpet. She can wear whatever she wants.  You work at Taco Bell… in Iowa.  You cannot pull off a peasant blouse, army pants, and four inch heels.  You look foolish. Stop doing it.

I want to personally slap every woman who started drinking Cosmos like it was their job after the women on that show started to.  I was guilty of this once. My best friend, Sophie came to visit me in North Carolina about seven years ago. I had just gotten one of the DVD sets.  Donny would go to work every night, we’d put Kali to bed, and pop in the DVDs.  Watching SATC, drinking Cosmos, and smoking cigarettes ’cause we thought we were cool. I don’t think I’ve had a Cosmo since.

Those women on the show drank in trendy NYC bars, restaurants, and nightclubs.  You are at some shit-kicking club in Rhode Island where you see the same sad people each weekend, sipping on watered down wannabe Cosmos thinking you’re cool. You’re not. It’s called individuality. Get some.

MILF – If I get another email telling me I’m a MILF.  For those that don’t know a MILF is a Mom I’d Like to Fuck.  Brought to us by the comedic geniuses who wrote American Pie.  At least that’s the first time I heard it.

When did Moms become un-fuckable?  Everyone’s Mom has been fucked. That’s how we all got here.  It’s how I became a Mom. Someone fucked me.  Was the old rule once you become a Mom, no more dick for you?  And if one man comments about the whole vagina stretching thing, I will beat you about the head with a brick.  It stretches to accommodate pushing out your big head baby and then it goes back to regular size. You know, the size that accommodates your below average penis.

Stop calling me a MILF!  I’d rather hear, “You’re a woman I’d like to fuck.” Don’t bring my child into this. It’s gross.

Finally, I can’t even label this one. And I know I’m going to get shit for it, but so what? It’s my book.

Last night I put on 48 Hours Mystery to help me fall asleep.  It was about the Natalie Holloway disappearance in Aruba.  When her mother and friends were questioned about her excessive drinking and possible drug use that night, they wanted to dance around it.  Her mother even said, “Yes, she was drinking, but I don’t think she should have been killed for it.”

That pisses me off to no end.  No one is saying she should have been killed for it, but emphasis needs to be put on the point that she was drinking heavily, and subsequently got into a vehicle with three boys she did not know.  It’s like if we admit that she did something stupid, we’re condoning her murder, and that’s not it at all. Even her friends said that she would not have normally gone with three strangers had she not been drinking! So, what’s wrong with pointing out that maybe, just maybe, young girls shouldn’t drink excessively? And that if you do, your judgment may become impaired, and you may make stupid decisions that could cost you your life.

I see nothing wrong with pointing this out to Kali.  It’s the truth. My parents tried to point that out to me, and sometimes I listened and sometimes I didn’t. It is by the grace of God that I didn’t end up raped and murdered somewhere in NYC.

Which brings me to the girl who was tortured, murdered, and dumped in Brooklyn a few weeks ago: when I first heard the story they were recounting her actions from that night.  When they got to the point where she left her friends to walk several blocks to another bar to drink alone, I immediately thought, “What the hell did she do that for?”

Did she have the right to walk the streets of NY alone and inebriated, to go to another bar to drink alone? Absolutely.  But, it doesn’t make it the right (or smart) thing to do. Maybe it’s because I was raised in a family of cops in NYC that I expect bad things to happen.  Hell, bad things happen in the middle of the day in a crowd, so 4am behind a bar in NYC… come on.

Again, I’m not blaming the victim, but maybe family, friends, and the media shouldn’t be so afraid to point out the mistakes these young girls made that contributed to their deaths. We should be able to talk about it so that maybe, just maybe, it will help the young girls that are still here.  Like my daughter, and yours.