Why I Will Never Be A Fancy Lady

1. My eyebrows are unkempt. Fortunately, they don’t meet in the middle or naturally run ragged all over the northern hemisphere of my face. But my eyebrow maintenance routine consists of me smoothing them with my fingers so that all the hairs are laying in the same direction. 2. Finger nails – I don’t get it. I cut them so that I don’t accidentally slice a bitch, but other than that, I don’t get it. I’ve had two manicures in my whole entire life and the experience was mediocre and left me acutely aware of my giant manhands. I …

Fear.

No, not that movie with Mark Wahlberg playing the incredibly hot psycho opposite Reese Witherspoon and Gil Grissom. Shit, remember that roller coaster scene? OH MY GOD it set my little adolescent hormones all a flutter when I first watched it. Yeah, this is not about that. One day, I’m going to die. Maybe it’ll be a car accident, or a stray bullet, or a aneurysm, or maybe I’ll just get old and fade away. That’s fine, I guess. I’ve never been one to fear much of anything, not even death. It’s never even made me intensely uncomfortable in the …

Rented: A Letter To Her

This is a rented post from Ashley, who asked to use my blog to do some much needed venting. This is stupid. Never have I ever had my blood boil so much by one, stupid, fucking person. If I could write this on my own blog, I would, but you stalked my blog. Visiting 4 to 5 times a day, I guess looking for any reference to me and him. I think fighting over guys is one of the stupidest things a woman could do, but for you to have the fucking audacity to come to me and ask …

Let sleeping dogs lie*

I wasn’t raised by my mother. She turned legal guardianship of me over to my grandparents when I was two years old, and they had been raising me long before that. For all of my childhood and most of my adolescence she lived thousands of miles from me and I called her by her first name. She never called to speak to me, she rarely visited, and gifts were few and far in between. She wrote me a letter once, when I was eleven, after my grandmother had told her I’d been getting in trouble at school. I read …

Nowhere Fast.

I’m the most indecisive person I know. I used to consider it a blaring sign of immaturity but as time goes on and as I grow older I realize that it’s probably just who I am as a person and has little to do with maturity. I hate it and I’m continuously frustrating myself (and others). It affects relationships, jobs, parenting and just life in general. I talked a little bit about it here (see #2). María = walking contradiction. I think my best friend is really the only person that totally gets it. She supports me in all …

Hoping this doesn’t turn into “Young v. Board of Education”

Last night, as Bella played in her own little imaginary world with her sister at the foot of my bed, I overheard her singing God is great, God is good, let us thank him for our food. “Where did you learn that?” I asked her. “At school,” she replied nonchalantly, “we do it every day before we go to lunch.” A couple of questions later and I’m informed – with only one week of this school year left – that her teachers have lead her class in that prayer every single day since the very beginning. I was floored …

Single and ready to mingle.

Not really. I mean yes, I’m single now, but not so ready to mingle. I just have always thought that saying was amusing. When else do you get to use the word ‘mingle’ or any of its variations? Never, that’s when. So I use it when I can. I love this boy, absolutely. He has my heart. As much of it as I am able to relinquish at least. He is sweet and funny and cute and passionate and loyal and giving and amazing and this and that. So much so that this relationship is so uneventful and easy …

Raising Daughters: “Girly Things”

Yesterday, as soon as Bella got off the bus and started trudging across the road, I knew from the look on her face that something was wrong. Not seriously wrong but “oh hell, begin the whining in three, two, one…” wrong. “Mommy,” she pleaded as if she’d already asked her question, “can you puh-lease get me a new backpack? Everyone makes fun of it.” “Who’s everyone?” “Jasmin*.” “Just her?” “Yes.” “What does she say?” “That it’s for boys.” “And now you need a new one? Because of that?” – she nods emphatically- “No, you can’t get another bookbag, not …

A Letter To Men

There is almost nothing more important to us than our music. If you walk into our home, get into our car, shuffle through our iPod, please refrain from turning your nose up at what you hear. Nasty comments about Justin Timberlake will have a similar effect to you pinching the fat of our upper arms and commenting on the flabbiness. Plus, we don’t judge you for your Akon collection (openly). We’re always listening, even if you don’t believe we are. We hear what you say in our sleep, from across the house, when we’re sitting in the car and you’re two …

Things I’ve been considering.*

With Sandra Bullock adopting Louis, the age old “white people shouldn’t be able to adopt black children” debate has popped back up. Why it’s even a debate, I don’t know. It’s such bullshit. It’s complained about, and used as an example of the underlying racism in our society that black children in the foster care system are the bottom of the barrel when it comes to adopting. But let a white person adopt one of those bottom of the barrel-bottom black kids and people are all in a tizzy over how that black child isn’t going to learn how …