What Tomorrow Brings

So here it is, New Year's Eve 2011.  It is the last day of the year and I have finally decided what my goals are for 2012.  Last year I had so many awesome and outright blessings that I was able to document each in bulk on Facebook for an entire week.  This year was a little more quiet.  So instead of breaking 2011's events down, let's look forward.  Here are my goals:

Be a Better Friend
When I tell you my friends look after me and take care of me, I am not exaggerating.  They have been so good to me; yet, I feel I have been lackluster in showing reciprocity.  I just finished a 30 minute conversation with my Mom about me and my friendship.  It is sad you have to get tips from your mother on being nice to people.  I mean it's not like I'm in kindergarten, but some things need to be said.  I need to learn to depend on me more and use them less for necessities and allow them to just be friends for friends' sake.

Visit Friends in Other Cities
I make a point of visiting Antoine in every state/city he decides to move to, no matter where.  I say state/city because I only visited him when he lived in Orlando not Tampa (I do not like Tampon, I mean Tampa).  So Orlando covered his Florida move.  Yet I still have not made it to Las Vegas, where he currently resides.  Which is crazy, because I could not wait until he moved there so I would have a cool place to visit.  Tickets to Vegas can be a bit pricey and I keep putting it off.  Knowing Antoine, he may be anywhere in the next couple of months.  So the sooner the better.  Then there are 3 other good friends of mine that I need to visit who also moved out of state.  I promised each I would, but this year, I am going to make it happen with at least one.

Pay Off My Car and All Credit Cards
I have discussed this before and so here we are again.  In my post IR(arely)S(ave) I discuss how I want to have at least one of my cards paid off by the end of the year.  It seemed possible and it was until the hood of my car flew up, while I was driving mind you!  My 'baby' is currently in the car hospital being repaired (hopefully to good as new standards).  That put a bit of a dent in my plans.  But fear not, I will have that Ann Taylor card paid off by February.  I have $551.96 left, which I can knock out in two payments, just not now.  After that, there is the $2000 balance on my Visa.  It is actually less than $2000, but when it's that close, there really isn't a difference.  My goal is to clear that up in 4-6 payments.  My car needs to be paid off soon and very soon.  I feel I can appreciate my car more, if I did not have to pay for her every month.  By June, I should be free of all three.  Then I will focus on my medical bills.  If you remember I had a surgery in September; that was not cheap.  All in all, this all seems manageable and doable, so it will be done.

Get Back to Europe
This is not life or death, but it feels like it.  So it has made the list.  I am just going to claim it...nuff said.

Start Actively Dating Again
Yep, I said it.  And I am not the only one who feels this way.  I just have the courage to say it/write it out loud.  When I think back on 2011, it seemed as if I had a lonely existence, but actually, when I do the math, I can say I went on at least 16 dates this year.  Not bad considering 2 were from eHarmony (yeah I gave that a whirl for all of 2 months), 1 was Nigerian (before you 'shutter to think', I liked him the best), 1 Serbian (I liked him to), 1 was 6 years younger (purrr) and 1 had a girlfriend, now fiancee, with whom he lived.  You remember him from We Can't Be Friends, he was 'trying' to break up, but never did.  Well now his Facebook relationship status reads engaged, with the link to the other person!  Yikes!  I am not counting Panty-Man, because we never actually went out on a date- broke mutha... If you factor in my 5 month hiatus where I couldn't do any strenuous activities, doctor's orders, I did alright.

With that said, I want to take it up a notch in 2012.  I am truly ready to settle down.  I feel like this is my year.  I say that every year, but I really feel it this year.  Although, I have not secured a steady, long-term mate, I have noticed, my caliber of men has shifted.  They are all 'on point' as I like to say.  We did not have a love or sex connection (read), but I still liked the fact that I have increasingly attracted 'better' men (in my opinion) as I have matured.  The most recent men are more of a reflection of my tastes.  I just need to find the one whose personality links best with mine (not an easy task).  Of all of my goals for 2012, this is the hardest because I have the least control over this one.  But I feel if I put in the Universe that I want to establish a positive and healthy relationship, blessed by God, where the man and I are mutually suited for each other, it will happen.  Doubt and worry are for non-believers...

Give God More of My Time
I need to get back on an active church schedule.  I have really been trippin' this year!  Not only do I want to start back going to service on a regular, I need to be more active in the church again, joining a Bible study group and choosing a ministry to participate in, God has been so good, I cannot even begin to tell you, but I'm sure you have your own stories so you know.  I can at least try to give back with my time not just my tithes (yes, although I have not been active in the church, they take their 10% off top from each paycheck).

So there, I have exposed my personal goals in the hope of conquering each in 12 months time.  I am a firm believer that the way you bring in a new year is indicative to how you will spend that year.  But regardless of if I kick it, kiss someone, party or get 'tipped' on champaign tonight, here's to new beginnings, good friendships, happy and healthy family, good times and love across the board!  However I usher in 2012, I have 366 days (it's a leap year) to get it right.

Blue Christmas

Today is December 27th.  In observance of Christmas, my company gave us yesterday off.  So today, being the first day back after the holiday, the #1 question wasn't the typical, 'how was your weekend?'.  Rather, 'how was your Christmas?'  Although I wasn't dreading this question, I was dreading the awkward responses I anticipated receiving when I said my holiday was, 'meh' with a shrug.  As a follow-up I said it was alright, with a face that told it all.  I spoke the truth, because there is no use lying.  I was in a blue funk pretty much all weekend long.

There were a couple of things that triggered this indigo mood, but I don't even feel like going there right now.  What I do want to focus on is how holidays, especially Christmas, can be duds.  I don't know if it was the fact that Christmas landed on a Sunday this year, or what, but I was not in the mood.  I did not get too many gifts this year, which really makes people weird.  It's like they feel sorry for you, even though I'm a grown woman who did not give it much thought.  Nor did I give gifts this year myself.

I am happy to report that after taking a 3 hour nap yesterday afternoon, I found that I felt increasingly better by the minute.  I don't know if it was rest I needed, or special attention, but by 7pm, I was back to dancing around my house to the music in my mind.  Maybe watching my favorite shows, marathon-style, on my dvr did the trick.  I particularly enjoyed the 60 Minutes feature on the 20 Eastern Orthodox Monastaries of Mount Athos in Macedonia, Greece.  These monks prayed 'without ceasing' as instructed in 1 Thessalonians 5:17.  All day long, no matter what they were doing, their lips were moving as they prayed almost continuously something to the effect of, 'Lord Jesus, have mercy on me.'  Although this group is extremely private and they do not allow women on the island at all, I really appreciated them and found them inspiring.

While I was going through my funk, I called a good girlfriend up to tell her how I was feeling.  She told me simply not to fight the feeling, just kind of let it wash over you.  She knew I was grateful, because I started the conversation saying that I knew I was being a brat.  I quickly rattled off a number of things that I was grateful for, but I admitted that I still was pissy.  What the monks and my girlfriend showed me was not just to be grateful and appreciative for what God has given you, but also, take life for what it is at that particular moment.  More importantly, push through to the other side.  For me this meant mentally listing things I am grateful for whenever I wanted to cry.  Or, taking the advice from another girlfriend, pretend what you thanked God for today is what you were given tomorrow.  This will really help you change your attitude to gratitude.  If you think of only having what you have thanked God for, you will run out of time trying to fit it all in one day.  The monks had no t.v., very little communication with the outside world, two meals a day (10 minutes each), and other rules we outsiders would consider restrictions.  However, they seemed healthy and happy and at peace.

I had the blues, but now I don't.  It is not the easiest emotion to have around Christmas, I'll admit, but I am only human.  The key is, I pushed through.

Eat Me!

When I was a little girl, I spent weekends with my sister's mother,my father's first wife, who I referred to as my step-mother.  Yeah, we were a blended family indeed.  Anyway, Rosa was a good cook.  She is single-handedly the sole person responsible for my love of blue cheese dressing and pickled beets and my ultimate respect for 'government cheese'.  One of the many fond memories I have of Rosa *God rest her soul*, was how she would sit and watch me eat.  As a little girl, I was sometimes annoyed that she would ask me over and over, 'Is it good?' or 'Do you like it?'  As a woman and still a relatively self-proclaimed novice cook, I now understand.  It means a lot and it's such a good feeling if someone genuinely enjoys your food.

Anyone who knows me, knows I love to eat.  What people may not know is that I enjoy cooking.  But cooking does not always come naturally to me as it does for others.  Which makes me shy when it comes to sharing my food.  I make certain people test it out, but for the most part, I base the success of my food on my personal tastes, which in my opinion I have an impeccable palate (but doesn't everyone think that??).  So I rarely invite people over to try my food, and I hardly ever offer to cook.  However, lately, I have been expanding my food tasting 'circle'.  Plus, I have been trying certain new recipes and perfecting others.  By perfecting I mean, I try to cook it more than once.  I used to have a bad habit of just cooking something once and not trying it again, only making a mental note of what I needed to do the next time to make it right.  The good news is, folks like my food.  I have 'tried' my guacamole on at least 4 people, all of whom loved it.  One of which comes from a traditional Mexican family.  Now that may sound racist, but it meant a lot to me that she enjoyed it and asked how I made my guac, because her mom still makes homemade tamales!  So the girl knows her Mexican food.  A couple of weeks ago, one of my BFs came over for pot roast and sauteed brussel sprouts and he thoroughly enjoyed it.  And just this week my Aunt came by for some chili (which I jammed on).  I asked her for her honest opinion and she called to say that not only did she like it, but whenever I make it, she wants me to set aside some for her.  Add the fried green tomatoes I made for my grandma last week and the artichoke parmesan casserole a few weeks prior and I am on a roll!

It may not sound like a big deal, but I enjoy food too much to rely on other people (even restaurants) to feed me.  I made a pact with myself in October to cook a meal every week.  I also promised myself that I would share my food.  So far, I have stuck to this.  The thing about food is it is so personal.  I have had people invite me over for dinner, with the confidence of a good cook, and I was highly disappointed.  Which lessened the chances of me going back for seconds.  To a food lover like myself, by sharing their food, they kind of shared themselves.  A real food lover does not forget a bad meal.  So as I thaw out my lamb chops in the fridge for tomorrow's dinner, I am scouring my favorite recipe site for meals I want to try and master.  Bon appetit!

Hot Sex On A Platter

CONFESSION:  I am hot!!  I am not referring to the, as my mother refers to it, 'ghetto project heat' in my apartment.  I am speaking of the heat that radiates within.  The sizzles that makes your body ache in the midnight hours.  The sometimes throbbing pulse that makes it hard to concentrate.  That thump that makes regular dudes start to look like Idris.

I will spare you the details of how long and with whom and so on and so forth.  But I will say, it has been a minute.  Every time I think I have hit my brick wall, another month will pass and I think to myself, 'whoa, this is crazy!'  I have a good girlfriend studying ministry who lights up when I talk about it.  To her, this is the way it is supposed to be until you are married.  Hmmm, something to think about.  Another friend scoffs when I tell her I have no prospects.  She thinks I have potential suitors to cool the fire, I just have to separate my feelings from the act.  That is much easier said than done.  A male friend of mine shared her sentiments, stating, and I quote, 'You need to take care of that.  You're too young.'  He feels I need to have someone knock the dust off of these pipes for my sanity's sake.

I agree with all sides of the argument.  Yes, I feel if I do not cool off soon, I will implode.  But, no, why waste my time (and sweat) on someone not worthy?  This means my 'throwbacks' are out.  If the person is 'new' that presents an even greater problem, because you take on the risk that it won't be good period.  No emotion added to bad attempt, we are talking an all around disaster.  Since I cannot be guaranteed it will be a Jimmy 'JJ' Walker dy-no-mite-esque experience, I think I will pass.  While my internal thermostat continues to go up, I will increase my cold showers, pick up my knitting again (don't be surprised if you see me on the boulevard with a full knitted suit!), try some new arts and crafts and just keep praying that someone worthy of these rolling hills will show up soon.      

Mean Girls

As I look back on this year, I cannot help but to think that 2011 seemed to revolve around the Black woman and her 'plight'.  Her plight of singleness, single motherhood, too much education and so on and so forth.  Although this may be salacious and titillating to outsiders (i.e. single Black men with no intention of settling down any time soon, the married or coupled black women who always have advice on what you have to do, because that's how they met Darnell/Michael/Greg or whomever or mainstream media and Harvard professors) this is not nearly as heartbreaking to me as the angry Black woman.  

This week, I had a few unsavory encounters with angry Black women (we'll refer to them as ABWs).  Each encounter was on the bus, which may be the real issue, but that's too easy and general to be true.  I started the week running for my bus.  I called out to the woman already on the bus stop to hold it for me.  She did, even though it wasn't her bus.  I thanked her and I got on.  I always greet the bus driver with a 'hey how you doing', 'good morning', etc.  If I've had to chase the bus down and they stopped, I make sure to start with a grateful 'thank you'.  This day was no different.  The bus driver however, shook her head, 'no' and started complaining about how, you have to be on the bus stop and they cannot wait for passengers anymore, because they are behind their schedules and yadda, yadda, ya.  I simply said, 'well thank you anyway'.  

I headed back to an open seat, where this woman had her purse.  I, as always, in an effort to be polite and kind, asked, 'may I have that seat?'.  The 'lady' responds in a nasty tone, 'I don't care.'  Okay, then what's with the nastiness?  If I had grabbed your purse and threw that shit on the floor, you'd be mad (and I'd probably have some injuries to report, ya'll know I don't fight).  I squeezed between her and another passenger and she continued her frivolous conversation with a standing passenger.  They apparently live in the same building and used to work for the same company, and this was their first conversation.  It was shallow and the 'lady' was acting all extra, in that, 'I'm above it all', type of attitude.  She had a bad lace front, that she put a barrette in, I guess for authenticity.  And although she moved her bag, she could not do anything with those hips-a-plenty...okay, now I'm just being mean-spirited...I digress.  So the two of them were annoyed with everything, the girl standing up was younger and seemed to have a glimmer of idolization in her eye for this 'diva'.  At one point the 'lady' mentioned how she goes to Manhattan on business and would love to live there.  The younger woman asked (and I quote), 'now where's Manhattan?'...I can't...I just had to throw that in so you know what we're working with here.  She eagerly asked a lot of questions and started mimicking the same snooty attitude while being asked to move out of the way by passengers coming and going.  The 'lady' at one point said, 'I hate people.'  To which I thought, 'no boo, you hate yourself.'  And I can't say I blame her.  Instead of letting their contagious nastiness affect me, I closed my eyes and did my morning prayer.  I prayed thoughtfully for both of them.

Another morning, a woman who is on the bus a lot, scolded a mother for not having gloves and a hat on her baby.  When I got on the bus, she had just started, 'Where's the baby's hat and scarf?'  The mother replied, 'We're getting off the bus and walking right into the building.'  That didn't satisfy the woman, 'But it's cold, you shouldn't have her out without a hat and scarf.'  The mother, who happened to be White, responded tersely, 'I'm her mother and she's fine, thank you.'  The woman went on, mumbling about 'young mothers' (even though the mother was at least 35) and then asked her bus buddy in the wheelchair, if she had her DCFS badge, that she should call the mother in!  Really!?  Would this older Black woman be so bold if it really was a young mother?  One of these 'urban' Black girls who are quick to talk slick and dare you to say something, less they have one of their girls meet you at your bus stop.  I bet she would not have said anything.  And to try and get this woman reported to child protective services?  Come on!  It was not even that cold.  Plus, we all know *racial stereotype alert* that our White brothas and sistas have a different tolerance for the cold than we do.  You have seen them out with a wool hat, shorts, gloves and flip flops on, while we have 5 layers of clothes.

Finally, yesterday a bus driver who was 3rd in a line of buses at the bus stop, refused to open the door until she moved up to 2nd in line.  When I got on the bus, she dryly and coldly stared straight ahead.  I cheerily said, 'hello', to which she did not even flinch, saying nothing.  Point taken.  What struck me in all of these incidents, is how truly angry my sistas can be.  I reflected on it intently and came up with this:  there seems to be not a lot of in-between when it comes to our Black 'sisterhood'.  Either Black women are kind, warm, good and sweet or they are just ignorant-ass bitches.  Yep, I said it...ignorant-ass bitches.  There is not a lot of, 'hey I don't know you, but I'm courteous and polite regardless because we are both adults and human.'  And furthermore, there is very little, 'gee I'm grateful that you are courteous to me, although you don't know me.'  

While everyone is talking about our dating lives, what is really hurting us, is our attitudes.  The problem is, if I was a bitch, because those women were bitches, it would have just spiraled out of control.  Now, although I'm not a sociologist, I understand that there are many factors as to why sistas are upset, irritated and mean.  I get it.  Because I used to be that way myself.  I understand that there are a lot of factors that bring you to the point where you are just angry and frustrated.  I grew up in a family of ABWs.  It was a family of strong, good, loving women, but they'd be quick to cuss you out if need be too.  As everyone has grown older and changed some things in their lives, this attitude has softened for the better.  But you have to want to change and you have to have the strength and courage to remove yourself from certain circumstances.  Our 'plight' as Black women and the spotlight that is placed on it, which is not helpful or is only concerned in a condescending way, would make anyone irritable.  But let's not find solace in that anger.  Let us not turn on each other.  It is true, hurt people, hurt people.  So when I think of the 'lady' on the bus, stating she hates people, I knew in her statement, that there was no real and genuine love for herself.  The fussy bus driver and the one who had totally checked out, both were well over 50 and probably just tired, not just because of that day's work, but of work overall.  The bossy and nosy lady lecturing about motherhood, left the bus asking for a late slip to give to her boss.  It does not take a rocket scientist to know she is powerless at work.  That is why she is bold elsewhere.  She looks about 60 and I'm sure she understands that in this job market, you have to hold on to what you have.  Not many employers are looking for job seekers over 50.  

Some of you might be saying, it may be time to try another commuting method.  But I think the bigger issue is how we as Black women view ourselves.  How we view others as they can be a mirror of ourselves. The anger and eager annoyance you show someone else, is evidence of the lack of love you have for yourself.  And that is unacceptable and sad.  If women's view of themselves was humble, yet proud, and that became their normal method of operation, they could more readily pass and receive a positive light.  Paying forward the goodness they themselves have received and repelling any negativity.  Think of how much closer our sisterhood could/would become.  Just a thought...

I Be Lady

If you call woman African woman, no go 'gree, she go say I be lady o.-Fela Kuti "Lady"


My father played Fela around the house when I was growing up and as an adult, I really enjoy and love the music.  The song "Lady" is one of my favorites.  As with all Fela songs, the groove is infectious and steady.  Although Fela was a revolutionary and social commentator in many ways, the lyrics always come second to the music for me.  The steady Afro beat is tribal and urban, new and old all at the same time.  However, when I first heard this song, I liked how he described the woman as brash and crass and unapologetic about being a 'lady' despite her actions showing otherwise.

This brings me to last night.  Long story short, I met a guy yesterday at the ATM on Michigan Ave.  He was tall, dark and handsome.  Not to mention polite and charismatic.  He initially asked me what part of Africa I was from.  I told him Chicago was my home town; he was Nigerian.  He invited me to a house warming party for his friend, taking place that same night.  I agreed to go.  My friend Nicole would be going with me as backup in case something went down.  After speaking to him and confirming I would go, he text me the address and Nicole and I got ready at our separate houses.  I was hell bent on wearing this sweater dress, but could not get it to work.  I settled on black riding pants, my favorite 'go to' top (knit cap sleeve shirt, that is a complete sheer button up in the back) and my red booties.  When I picked Nicole up, I saw she opted for some cute jeans and a nice delicate top with embezzled ballet flats.

We get to the building and in the elevator some girls call out to hold it.  Here we go...  The first girl to catch it just stood and blocked the door without any apologies.  The maintenance man who happened to be helping some new tenants and was on the elevator as well had to encourage them to speed up so we would not all be waiting.  When this group got on, I new immediately that they were going to the same place.  Nicole text me in the elevator (showing me the message on her screen) that she felt absolutely underdressed.  I didn't, those bad weaves alone (that ALL of them had) knocked their outfits down at least  5 notches.

We get off the elevator and start walking.  One of them behind us says, hold on.  And the only guy in the group goes, 'are we waiting?'.  I could feel them drilling a hole in the back of my head.  So of course, despite my sore ankle, I sashayed passed and proceeded to the party with Nicole.  We get in and the host introduced himself and his roommate.  He offered to take our jackets, but I wanted to scope the place out a bit first and Nicole was not having it at all, so she requested to keep hers.  There was food, drinks and a relatively lively group.  Everyone was dressed to impress.  The men seemed nice enough, but the women, oh the women.  The party was African dominated.  I normally would have enjoyed the atmosphere, but in a too tight, box apartment (I'm sure he's paying waaay too much) where nearly every woman and I mean EVERY woman has her eyes on you, it was too much.  I felt like a lioness who just stepped off of a safari tour.  I don't think the lone white sista had this much awkward staring.  Was it my braid-out funky afro?

Furthermore, I had apparently forgotten how my new friend looked, because after eyeballing a couple of random men and pointing out at least 4 that I thought were him.  I soon discovered from the host, that he had not arrived yet.  It was now 11pm.  Past my bedtime and way over my bullshit limit, I was getting impatient.  My new friend was not answering his text messages and Nicole was feeling extremely uncomfortable.  To boot, every woman, including the little 5 year old that kept bouncing around, with the exception of 2 people had weaves!  All of them bad.  All of them!  They obviously took the party very seriously, I mean women were wearing what I call booty dresses and sequined numbers, including a sequined booty dress and a sequined bustier!   Side bar:  are sequins in this season?  I haven't heard word of it.  But I digress.  Party dresses with sky-high stilettos were all around, but not a single blender or Target gift card in sight.  Not the traditional house warming we were expecting.

I asked Nicole if she was ready to go, I had another 30 minutes in me to wait, but would not subject her to it if she did not want to be there.  It was now about 11:20pm.  We had been there for an agonizing 25 minutes or so.  Nicole looked up to me (she is shorter than I, and has on flats remember and I have on booties) and said something to the effect of, 'we don't have to, but I would like to'.  Enough said, let's roll!  We went to the closet where I had hung up my jacket and beat it!  The host, on our way out said, 'you're leaving?'  Now I am still a lady, so I kept it very positive:  'yeah (insert apologetic 'yeah' face), we had a good time.  Thank you.  You have a very nice place.'  As we walked out, we heard the apartment lock click and looked at each other like, 'what the fuck was that?  As we got on the elevator this brotha was getting off, he too was at the party.  He asks, 'ya'll leaving?  Where are you headed to next?'  I responded, 'anywhere, but here.'  He says, 'whoa, whoa, what happened?  I'm riding down with ya'll.'  We could not quite describe it, Nicole and I just kept looking at each other, trying to find the words.  I finally said, 'they kept looking at us like, "oh, my God, her hair is so nappy"'.  With a look of disgust and confusion, he replied, 'oh, that's weak, that's weak' referring to the girls.  We thought he would be kind enough to walk us to our car, but instead he kissed his 2 fingers into a peace sign (yes, you read that right) and bid us a good night.  I guess he had to hurry up and get back to those 'weak' sistas.

Nicole needed a drink; she had refused to partake at the party.  My new friend had finally responded to my text.  He was on his way.  I was to ask for DJ Fine Boy in his absence.  I text back that we decided to call it a night.  But my Cricket phone, did not send the text, so I had to resend (hopefully he didn't get 5 duplicated messages, my phone has been known to do that).  Nicole and I headed over to our favorite spot, the South Loop Bar Louie's.  She had her normal Pink Lady cocktail, while I drank water.  We split buffalo wings and a basket of fries until we were just plain ole worn out and tired of being out and witnessing the ghetto mess that was at Bar Louie's.  We lamented on how bizarre that whole party was.  Why did all of them have bad weaves?  Was what I kept asking.  Nicole thought the night should go down in our social history book as one to remember.

On the ride home, we mercilessly mocked the whole situation in terrible African accents.  We imagined they were all talking about us like dogs.  This made us giggle and laugh the whole ride.  Yeah, he'll never call me again...

Oh How I Love Essence!

I grew up with Essence magazine in the house.  My mom held a subscription for years and even when I was too young to understand it's purpose or uninterested to read the articles, I loved looking at the pictures.  The women in Essence were beautiful.  Most importantly, they looked like me and the people I knew.  When I became a pre-teen YSB (do ya'll remember that one??) and later a teenager, Vibe magazine were what spoke to me.  During junior and senior year in high school, I preferred Cosmo.  As a young adult in my early 20s it was all about Honey magazine.  But now, at 31, my favorite magazines are Marie Claire and Essence.

Those are the only magazines I read religiously.  I take their suggestions, tips and advice to heart.  I love the articles and I like the fashion.  Both publications speak to me at this exact age.  So you can only imagine my giddiness when this past Saturday, while attending a natural hair meet-up (Treasure Our Tresses) a brotha with a camera walked up to me and asked if he could take my picture.  He informed me the photo would be featured in Essence.com's photo gallery.  I nearly lost it.  First, let me say, my hair was fabu!  So much love to my stylist Trina at NV Hair Studio.  Second, everyone's hair was fabu.  The natural sistas came out looking good.  So the fact, out of the crowd of beautiful women, I was part of a chosen few really gassed me up.  So I gladly took a few pictures (I am one of the most un-photogenic people you will meet).

I figured the picture would be featured in their Street Style gallery, so I started checking on Monday.  Finally today, there it was:  Hair Street Style: Windy City Naturals.  I clicked and clicked and clicked until I landed on photo #10.  There I was; I was so geeked at work!  I even showed my boss!  What a dream!  Here is a website that I visit everyday like clockwork; and I am now part of it's archives.  Words cannot begin to describe.  I love Essence and I love my hair.  Who would have ever thought the two would be connected somehow.

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