I’m taking my talents to Hollywood.

Love and employment have all but forsaken me, so it’s time for a new beginning.

On August 11, my laptop and I will board a jetliner with a duffel bag full of clothes and probably cry. I am quite a loner, but my friends and family have always been only a Septa ride away. By the time I reach my layover in Phoenix, I expect anxiety and optimism to be warring for control of my brain.

Monday, August 13, I have an interview at a placement agency at 2pm, and I’ve just last night submitted my resume at both ESPN and BET.

*fingers crossed*

One upon a time

I was a fool

In love

With a fool

Aquarius meets Gemini. THIS guy was my closest friend and confidant since we met in 2001. We talked every day. About everything under the sun.

He broke my heart in August 2007 when he revealed that he was having a child. We were never in a relationship – had never so much as kissed – so I had no right to be angry. But, my heart dropped to the floor of my stomach like it was dropped off the edge of a high-rise and shattered into a dozen shards. I felt physical pain. I thought I was permanently damaged.

Vesta Williams played in my head. “Congratulations; I thought it would have been me.”

I made my peace with him and we became friends again.

It was a difficult time for him, because the relationship had already ended. I was there for him, like I had been for the past six years. But it hurt like hell.

I told him I loved him because I did. I didn’t expect him to question my motives, though.

On August 25, 2007, he asked me why did I love him. And I said I didn’t know. Then, after the conversation ended, I wrote him a list.

We made a brief attempt at a relationship in the summer of 2009 that didn’t end well. But, again, I couldn’t be mad at his reasons, and I made my peace with him, and things went back to normal.

In November 2009, I made friends with an old acquaintance I’d made in 2005. Thank you, Twitter. I thought the world of him and tried to hook him up with my sister. I couldn’t be that girl pursuing this younger guy, especially since I suspected he had dated at least one of my friends. Also, he was very… he was too damn goody two-shoes for me. I had a potty mouth and smoked cigarettes, both of which I knew to be big no-no’s in his book. Not that he knew either of these things. My sister was the good girl. The church girl. Church, Work, School, Repeat.

He had other plans, though. Told me he always liked me and scrapped the idea of dating my sister. He was a million miles away from me (opposite coasts), so I didn’t take it seriously. He was going though something physically – surgery, recovery, rehab – and we kind of bonded with all of his free time and my very flexible schedule. All-nighters on the phone. Skype. BBM.

On January 7, 2010, he responded to my playful, friendly, “lololol, I love you” with a question, “Do you love me, or are you IN love with me?” We had never even discussed dating, just fell into this pattern of constant communication and expressed adoration. But, in the split second after he asked, it hit me like a bolt of lightning. “Both.” After a long, deafening pause (do you know how it feels to say “I’m in love with you,” and get no response for 90 seconds?) he revealed his feelings for me. “Over all this time, [mushy mushy mushy], I want to see where this vibe takes us.” I’ve written about THAT guy before. Guy #2.

In April 2010, he broke my heart even worse than THIS guy did, when he revealed he was going to marry his son’s mom for very noble reasons. I couldn’t be mad – we had never been on a date or even kissed because of our distance. But this time, instead of my heart shattering, it was ripped from my chest and a gaping, aching hole was left in its stead.

Again, I made my peace and wrote a letter, which I may or may not have published in this blog, and, after he read it, we became friends.

After I got over my pain, I realized they together taught me a lesson. They proved to me that my capacity to love will never be broken. I can fall again. Because I did fall again. I am grateful for learning that my love, though all-consuming, will never be broken. I do not hold our situations against anyone else. I am not bitter, as evidenced by the fact that I fell again after heartbreak.

But THIS guy… He fell back from our friendship when I got involved with THAT guy. He always told me he would take his bow when I fell in love and he kept his word. He watched from a distance while our very public and very secret romance bloomed.

He is a strange, unpredictable creature. He displays his vulnerability, but will deny it to the very end. He makes small gestures that are evidence of his feelings – he has voluntarily rescued me more than once, always calls me or surprises me on my birthday, that kiss on the forehead when I run into him on the street, and when he sees me talking “too close” with another man, he creates subtle displays of jealousy. But, to ask him, he has “no emotions.”

Confront him, and he will express his feelings. “I love you. I love your smile. I love your sense of humor. I love your physical beauty. I love your inner beauty. I love who you are as a person. I love who you are as a woman. I love how strong you are. I love how delicate you are. I care about you a lot. I worry about you. I am protective of you. I want the best for you. I wish you had a better support system. I think your time for greatness is coming because you deserve it.”

Then he says, “As I get older, my circle grows smaller. You have been a key part of that circle for over 10 years now. I can’t risk losing your friendship if our relationship doesn’t work out.”

Then, as I change the subject as only a Gemini can, he follows it up with “I don’t have any emotions. Nothing makes me happy, nothing makes me sad, nothing makes me angry, and that worries me.”

It is bullshit because he can be very passionate, but it bothers me that he thinks this way.

Then, we have this exact conversation 45 minutes later… Him, nonchalant as fuck, “I’ma get married when I’m 40 or 45.” Me, jealous as fuck, “What the fuck is that? You’re getting married in 10 years??? WHO?!?!?!” Him, amused as fuck, “What?” Me, entertained and alarmed as fuck, “WHO?!? WHO are you going to marry?” Him, pensive, then nonchalant, “You.”

He irks my soul.

He needs time to find himself. All I pray is that he finds the right one. Which I’m sure won’t be me because I am over the game.

This, however, is not about hating him. Which I tell him often, and he always responds with “It’s a thin line between love and hate.” And I tell him that one day he is going to push me too far over that line and there will be no coming back. And he replies, “never,” EVERY SINGLE TIME.

But, this is not about that. This… is about… wanting the feeling he used to give me. The feeling he evokes now is not the same. My infatuation peaked around the time of this list. He doesn’t give me butterflies anymore, and half of these things either no longer excite me, or no longer occur. Some of them, I just don’t even know what the hell they meant anymore.

I was innocent back then. He was obsessed with me in the innocently curious way a young child chases butterflies. I was obsessed with the feeling in the chase.

I want it back. The feeling. Not that relationship with him.

I don’t hold my future love to this standard because I know it will be different, and hopefully, greater, but I would kill to be that girl again.

Nevertheless, for nostalgia’s sake… and unedited, against my better judgement and narcissistic need to make myself look less… in love.

August 25, 2007

You asked why I love you as though you weren’t aware that I did. How could you not know?

I love that you make me want to be perfect even though I know I don’t have to be afraid to be imperfect in your presence.

I love that you are hard on me sometimes.

I love your concern.

I love that you show your passion every once in a while.

I love that you see me at my worst – drunk, emotional, scared, hurt, angry, and/or without makeup, lol – and don’t run from it.

I love that in a room (or outdoor club, lol) full of people who want my attention, yours is the only attention I want – and that I can get that attention.

I love that I don’t have to be anybody but me in front of you.

I love that I want to fk you til one of us passes out. 😀

I love that I can picture still being completely charmed by you when I’m 100.

I love your smile.

I love your eyes.

I love that you think you’re fly. 😉

I love your laugh.

I love that you notice when I cut my hair.

I love that you noticed that my ears turn red when I blush. I sooooo love that!

I love that you like when I smile.

I love that you give me butterflies.

I love that I can’t stop smiling when you look at me.

I love that I feel like you’re looking into me instead of at me.

I love that you think you know me. Lol

I love that you know me so freaking well!

I love that you can be profound, intelligent and completely obnoxious all in one breath.

I love that I am so ridiculously attracted to you.

I love that you turn me on.

I love that you know you do and you do it on purpose.

I love that you wear shorts.

I love that you cracked me UP telling your boy that I bit you last night.

I love that you get a kick out of my little ego strokes. 🙂

I love that you told kitten not to scratch me.

I love that you always smell so good.

I love that all the stresses of my life completely disappear whenever you are hugging me.

I love that I am not afraid to tell you all this mushy ish. Lol

I love the sound of your heartbeat.

I love that you make me feel completely safe and completely vulnerable at the same time.

I love that you bought me a drink on your birthday. lol

I love that you keep an eye on me.

I love that you like to debate.

I love that you are a competent debater. 🙂

I love that you have never made me feel incompetent… even w/your Slow Unit jokes. lol

I love the way you say my name.

I love the look on your face last night. I still can’t believe you said that, but the look on your face was enough to prove you right.

I love that you would probably wear my ass out.

I love that you make me oh so weak sometimes.

I love when you call me baby girl.

I love that you get all up in my face even though I’ve warned you about that ish. lol

I love that you encourage me.

I love that I actually notice the days I don’t see you or talk to you.

I love that you say I like thick and dark even though we both know what I like… lol

I love that you say I have groupies and that there is always someone in my ear. lol

I love that you know my feelings and I don’t feel threatened by that.

I love that you can read me like a book.

I love that you know things other people wouldn’t understand even if I spelled it out for them.

I love that you are always right. lol. Usually.

I love that you make me want to make you happy.

I love that you always have something to say when someone is in my personal space.

I love that you invade my thoughts, dreams and daydreams on a rather regular basis.

I love that you call my bluff. lol

I love when you play with my hair.

I love when you grabbed my hair.

I love when you move my hair to see if my ears are red.

I love that you did my brackets for me when I was doing the NCAA pool last year.

I love that you’re protective.

I love that just knowing you restores my faith when I need it.

I love that you think you’re funny. :p

I love that you think I’m funny. lol

I love that you said you were happy when I said you were popping in my mind.

I love that you know when I’m smiling as I type. lol

I love that you think I got game.

I love that you want to know why I love you.

I love that you want me to tell you what you do to me when you already know. lol

I love that you say you don’t know what I see in you.

I love that you flatter me incessantly.

I love that you remembered my birthday before I mentioned it. 🙂

I love that you tell me you are happy for me when I share good news with you.

I love that you said “tuff girl draws” lmao

I love that you care.

I love that you give me good advice.

I love that you said something… and it was so not-profound it actually made me remark. lol

I love that you make me want to bite you for some odd reason. SORRY!!!

I love that you make yourself out to be so big and bad even though you’re not.

I love that I have to restrain myself from touching your lips.

I love the feel of your hands on my skin.

I love how you manage to make me feel nervous and confident at the same time.

I love that you make me feel things I’ve never felt.

I love that you make me say thing I never thought I would say (the x-rated ish as well as the sappy ish).

I love the sound of your voice.

I love that you make my heart race.

I love that I was able to fluster you once. lol

I love that I chose this list over going out tonight.

I love that you remember details of when you first met me.

I love that a little voice in the back of my head screams for me to keep my distance from you but I’m still drawn like a magnet.

I love that there are a thousand songs that remind me of you which means I think of you often.

I love when you are authoritative (I think that’s the right word).

I love that you had an eye on me when Johanna was sitting on your lap at Reef. lol

I love that you gave me the most awesome hug ever at Fat Tuesday. lol

I love how you look in your work clothes. 🙂

I love that you are confident but not repulsive.

I love the eCard you sent me for my bday!

I love that I want you to know all of this so bad that I’m fighting sleep and restlessness to sit here and add to the list. lol

I love that I have a million more reasons why I love your azz.

Groupies, gold diggers, famewhores, etc…

It’s always been my policy not to judge people. I’m not gon’ say I DON’T judge people, but my rule is not to judge them. At least not from afar. I mean, some things are spelled out and if you ain’t shit, me saying you ain’t shit is not judging; It is calling a spade an ain’t shit spade.

And it works out well considering I’m generally detached (allegedly) and indifferent (admittedly). I don’t go around minding people’s business, and if their business comes to me, I still have the mental capacity to stand back and say, “there must have been a good reason.” Suffice it to say, people who haven’t another friend in the world tend to gravitate my way. That brings a set of problems all its own, but generally, they aren’t bad people.

But, I digress. Sort of. I know from experience what it’s like to be judged, so…


First, it’s usually some wannabe who’s mad they’re not in [insert celeb here]’s circle that is bestowing the label.

Second, who are you to judge who [insert celeb here] chooses to spend his or her time and/or money with?

Third, do you know the alleged groupie to know that her goal is deliberately to “get with a celebrity?”

Like, it’s one thing to see half-nekkid hoes camped out in the lobby of the hotel where the ballers are residing for the night. In that instance, label away. Preferably not aloud. Also, get out of dodge before you’re guilty by association if you’re a woman, or labeled a broke-ass hater if you’re a dude.

Aside from that, have a seat.

What do you really know when you see two people together?

Sometimes they are old friends. Celebs are people, too, and they have “people.” People who grew up in the same area, or went to the same school, or their parents were friends, or they dated in their hometown, or for whatever reason, their lives intersected. Were they supposed to fall off and dump their friends when they got famous or rich?

That’s stupid. And to make it personal, I’ve been there.

In school, it was the athletes. They were my people. My friends were athletes and their friends became my friends. We hit it off cuz we were equally uninterested in being scholars, and I was the one they trusted with… everything. Money, property, scandals. Everything. When they went out, I was invited. When they stayed in, I was invited. There was always a rumor floating around about who I was fucking, and I was a virgin!

But, when I was carrying on a secret teenage love affair with someone relatively famous and undeniably wealthy, everyone thought we were just friends. People’s judgement ain’t shit and they should remember that.

Out here in the real grown-up world that strangely resembles high school… I’ve had plenty of people, both friends and strangers, question why I’m seen with this rich guy or that local celeb. *shrug* We’re friends. Sometimes it’s business, sometimes we need a heart-to-heart, sometimes it’s old friends making peace, sometimes we wanna get shit-faced in trusted company. Call me what you want, but if you do, I will remind you that there is no sex involved. That makes me a groupie, how?

If you wanna see a groupie, let me introduce you to this self-proclaimed “Boss Bitch” I know who pretends it’s all business, but is really just pressed to be associated with certain people. Spends her days name dropping, her evenings leveraging her friends to see who they can introduce her to, and her nights screwing everyone who has a Wikipedia page.

Then there’s people who just LIKE a certain celeb but not cuz he’s rich or famous. I’ve always said that because fame puts you in the public eye, famous you is always gonna have more people checking for you than you would if  your notoriety didn’t extend past your block. When you’re on, you’re on. People see you, and people get used to you, and people who would otherwise never have seen your face or known your name begin to like you. Granted, many are wooed by the lights and lured by the lifestyle, but sometimes people simply fall for what they perceive the person to be.

Case in point, I love me some Nnamdi Asomugha. I’ve never met that man, and I wouldn’t know anything about him if he weren’t famous. But, based on the few profiles/bios and interviews I’ve seen, you can’t tell me there’s anything bad about that man. His smile is everything and he looks like he smells good, plus he seems smart, and appears to be a good person. A perfect candidate to be my future something or other. That doesn’t mean I’m going out of my way to meet him, or throwing my panties at him if I see him, but I get all dreamy-eyed when he’s on my TV.

Speaking of athletes, I have a girlfriend who, in college… well, they were her twist. I’m not gon call her a groupie just cuz she likes em tall and muscular, and is therefore always crushing on a basketball player or one of the taller football players. If I were to call her a groupie, it would be because she admittedly gauged her interest by their level of popularity and systematically took em down. lol. See, there are some people who do these things deliberately, and others who just appear to be up to something.

I don’t judge, though. We became friends cuz I was always around and she was always around – clearly for different reasons, and, well, when I tell you I don’t mind other people’s business, I don’t. I try to learn why, but I don’t say she’s a horrible person for doing what she did. She had fun, they had fun, I don’t need the details.

On the other hand, I had a former friend who was the golden child and everyone thought she could do no wrong, but she was literally sleeping in her boyfriend’s teammate’s bed. So, you know, there’s always more than meets the eye.

Speaking of more than meets the eye, why are you mad at me cuz he’s seen with me? Whether I was a waitress, a stripper, or Halle fucking Berry, why would dating a rich person or a famous person make me a gold-digging fame whore? Maybe we were set up on a blind date. Maybe he walked into my store or whatever other place of business and saw something he liked. Am I to ignore him just because he’s in somebody’s limelight? Eff that. Everything’s fair in the name of love.

On the other hand, what if I started out with intentions of being a gold-digging fame whore and once I got to know my target, I fell in love with him? Love will change every damn thing. Unless I confide my story in you and it is indeed all bad, you have no grounds to make that judgment.

Even the Kim K’s and Amber Roses of the world have a back story that should be considered before you label them whatever you choose to call them. How did they get so close to whoever they were linked to in the first place? How does a common background, or something in common, period, establish her ill-intent?

If he brought her into his fancy little world, and when they were done, she wound up with someone else in that circle, it doesn’t mean that was her “plan.” That’s just the way the cookie crumbles. You meet people, you date people, you make it work, or you move on. Depending on how long y’all were together, or how deeply you were pulled into “that” world, you probably don’t just move to a farm in Nebraska when you break up.

You not gon’ hate me just cuz I date people whose names you recognize.  That doesn’t mean I was trying to stay in the limelight. If they’re dating, then break up, and the not-famous half of the pair did make a conscious decision to stay at that level, in their defense, having been exposed to life with an international superstar, why the hell would they wanna go back to dating Ray-Ray from up the block who can’t keep a job, anyway? I’m not mad.

Jealous, insecure, wanna-bes (both male and female) LOVE to bash someone’s character. Preferably someone well-known, and who doesn’t know them so there’s little chance of repercussion beyond a few seconds of infamy for having “beef.”

I hate people.

Sometimes, I can have a lovely time with people when there is no exchange of words, thoughts, knowledge and I’m ok with that.

It’s the talking that messes everything up.

There’s this guy (A) I’ve known for years. He’s been cool. We run into each other every year or so, communicate for a little bit and fall off. That’s the pattern, and I’m ok with it. His reputation has always unsettled me. Not in a “I need to stay away from you” sense, but in a “there’s a reason they call you that, so don’t try to put shit past me, bruh” way.

Early Monday morning, he texts me, which is not unusual. He works from like 5am – 2pm, so it’s cool to have some entertainment during my commute.

The conversation turns to one of our mutual acquaintances (B). I went to high school with B. A now works with B. A says, “I envy B and his wife. They’re so perfect for each other.”

I agreed that they are absolutely lovely together, then said something typical about not envying people because there’s always more than meets the eye.

He turned the conversation to love. Commitment.

Specifics escape me, but he asked if I want, or if I believe in “love and commitment.”

Do IIIIII believe in love and commitment? Dude. Who doesn’t want love and commitment. Speaking only for myself, to love and be loved is the end game. What is better than being able to open up to someone mentally, emotionally, physically, and know they won’t hurt you? To find peace, comfort and solace in their arms at the end of the day? (And follow that up with marathon sex, but I didn’t say this to him cuz we aren’t THAT tight.) At this point I’m overcome with daydreams of love. And probably somewhere in my subconscious associating these feelings with him and his stats have suddenly improved. That’s just the way it goes.

His response. “Wow. I never took you for the ‘love and commitment’ type. I thought you were a free spirit. That’s good to know.”


That was just…


You’re ignorance has dried me up like the Sahara desert. Conversation over.

Free spirit means I do/think what makes ME happy, rather than what society says I have to do and believe.

And LOVE makes me happy.

The thing that bothers me, is not that he didn’t know what free-spirit means. It’s that he used the statement to gauge my… idk, level of difficulty? He threw that out there hoping I would say I believed in free love and that I was into getting my rocks off regardless of emotional attachment.

Men sure know how to talk their way out of my good graces.

Not that this is a loss… I’m ok not speaking to this jerk.

Three days later, he texted me and said “I had another dream about you.”

Instinct told me where this was going, but oh? You never told me what the first one was about.

“Both times I was eating your pussy. And it tasted like cinnamon.”

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME??? When did it become okay to use lewd as a flirt tactic?

I’m NOT that chick, and well, now, you’ve absolutely guaranteed you’ll never find out.

I hate people.

Today’s Facebook status:

I’ve never believed that a relationship should be work. If you two “fit,” it should come naturally, be comfortable, and not feel like a struggle. As such, I’ve spent the majority of my adult life alone, and being reprimanded by my peers for not giving people “a chance,” which is bull cuz I give everyone a chance. It’s just that I bail at the first sign of difficulty, and I’m ok with that. It kept me drama free for 32 years. Why should I hang around when I’m the only one giving my all? You’re not a child, and I’m not your mother, obligated to care for you through all your tantrums, selfishness and disrespect. I haven’t vowed before God to love you for better and for worse, so why should I remain a victim of a bad that outweighs the good? I’m so cool. Happily single would be a stretch, cuz we all yearn for love and our other half, I think, but I’d rather be ok and walking alone than miserable at the hands of another.

The inspiration? The last 4 months, 3 weeks and 4 days of my life.

Things happen, and on October 27th, 2011, at the ripe old age of 32, I found myself with a permanent houseguest. 

At first, it was cute. Sometimes we went out, sometimes we ordered take-out, sometimes we had delivery. Lots of cuddling and kissing and all that bullshit. Church together and everything. He talked about how surprised he was that he’d fallen in love with me so fast, and how he loved waking up to me every morning, and I heard him repeatedly thank God for bringing me into his life.

Then the time to pay the bills came and the storytelling started. Occasionally, there was a decent sum of money, usually a couple hundred dollars, but never his full share. It was always just enough to get me off his case for a week, then when I brought it up again, there was some tragic progression to his most recent story, some fantastic promise, etc. 

Normally, I would have never spoken to him again after my first request for rent money or whatever was denied. I have a supremely and notoriously low tolerance for another adult rocking my boat.

Don’t ask me why I chose to try something new at this junction. I don’t know why I didn’t tell him to leave at the first sign of trouble because I don’t know. He spun the story and I guess I wanted to give him a chance. I wanted to believe him.

Instead, what happened is we fought and fought for four months. The more I scream, the more he does to placate me – my house has never been so clean – but he never admits fault or stupidity or asks forgiveness.

At the worst, when I am thisclose to physical violence, or am crying tears of anger, that’s when he starts confessing. It’s like only when I’ve reached my limit does he understand that he owes it to me to be honest. Things haven’t been good for him, and he thought he could cover it up until he could fix it. Plain as that.

The thing is, he was raised pretty well off. His mom solved every problem with a phone call. She was well-connected, and although estranged, his wealthy father provided for him financially. His parents failed to teach him how to be a man… How to be responsible… How to protect the people he loves. He is very giving, but he does not know how to get.

His ego is outrageous which could be a cultural thing. He sees that his job is to solve the problem, and not incrementally. He thinks if he can calm me down long enough for him to fix the physical problem, then the thing is resolved, which is not how it works with me. I need to know how we got here. WHY do we even have this problem. what your priorities are, why you chose to lie to me, how you can be comfortable and have any self-respect while using me like this, etc.

His default is not to fix the problem, but to find a solution. Think, coming home with money he lowkey conned from a friend (maybe sold them something for more than its worth) rather than getting a job. Which leads to him lying to soothe my fears and anger while he tries to find a solution. 

It turns out he was laid off. Because of the setup of his job, he isn’t eligible for unemployment and is having a hard time finding a job. Also, he thought he could rely on friends and family members to bail him out, but no one is in a position to do so, except his father, who refuses to do so, using this as an opportunity to teach him a lesson that should have been taught MANY years ago.

So, my limit is, and has been reached. He’s trying, but it’s not enough. The rubber band has snapped and it should never have been stretched so far. Don’t bother trying to put it back together now… Glue might work for a moment, but this particular band will never stretch as far again.

The problem now is that I don’t have the heart to put him out when he has no one and nothing to fall back on.

All that being said, I’m back to the me who doesn’t believe in working at a relationship in the sense of sacrificing to “keep” another.

Don’t get me wrong.. I’m easy-going and all about compromise, but that whole sucking it up and plodding along like a good worker bee while he does whatever the hell he wants and stressing while he relaxes… nah. I’m good. 

Thankfully, my momma didn’t raise me to believe there was something wrong with me if I wasn’t married or any such bullshit. I’m no feminist, but fuck that. I wish I would waste my life catering to some jerk who isn’t in it for me half as much as i’m in it for him. sheeeeit.


My diet is a big, fat fail. We’ll see exactly how big tomorrow morning. I refused to track any of my recklessness this week. Adding to the dilemma is that I’ve been spending two days a week helping out at a fish & chips joint in Jersey. All fried everything.

I did, however, make provisions to begin anew tomorrow. Went grocery shopping and only bought relatively healthy things like egg beaters, onions & peppers, skim milk, a couple types of green tea, 5lbs of broccoli, some salad fixins including turkey bacon bits, a huge bag of tilapia fillets, and a ginormous bag of sunflower seeds. As I type, I’m chowing down on a cup of rice krispies w/cinnamon (McCormick won w/that whole “sprinkle on some antioxidants” ad campaign), sugar and skim milk. Probably what I’ll miss the most in the next two weeks.

*sigh* IthinkIcanIthinkIcanIthinkIcanIthinkIcanIthinkIcanIthinkIcan

I was so gung ho about it all on Sunday. All New Everything.

Halfway through the week, umm… Yeah, I may have taken on a little too much, so let’s revise these resolutions:

  1. Take a self-portrait photo every day… *pout* How about once a week? I’ll do it when I do my weekly weigh-in on Mondays.
  2. Mother Nature decided I should re-think my couch to 5k plan and made it cold out. High temperatures in the 20s this week. Let’s re-visit this when the temps get in the high 40s to low 50s again. To be fair, I won’t even go out to the bar in this weather, so it’s not like I’m just being a flake.
  3. The OD Dieting… WeightWatchers, yes, I’m sticking to my points plan. The two weeks of no carbs for the South Beach plan… *flushes toilet*. Self: “calm your ass down, Lakara. Let’s just focus on one thing at a time.”
To be clear, I have not gone off the deep end with the sweets or anything. The majority of this week’s meals have been mostly healthy. Baked chicken, lots of veggies including cabbage and salads, etc, but… the questionable choices…
  • Monday: I had a bite of brown sugar ham on wheat bread. Nothing wrong with that, but it’s not in line with the South Beach plan.
  • Tuesday: Same thing – brown sugar ham on a slice of wheat but I added honey mustard (Ken’s Steak House honey mustard, to be precise), plus I had a slice of cornbread with my collard greens for lunch and another with my salad for dinner. When I couldn’t sleep overnight, and got hungry around 4am, the box of Rice Krispies called my name, so I ate a bowl (with a single teaspoon of sugar) for the first time since 1994. And they were crazy delicious.
  • Wednesday: Brown sugar ham w/honey mustard on wheat, rice krispies w/sugar, and cornbread snuck their way into my mouth during the course of the day, and, I had to grab dinner on the go, which wound up being a Whopper (no cheese), and a side salad with a tiny squirt of the accompanying sugar-laced ranch dressing.
  • Today: Oatmeal with raisins and brown sugar for breakfast, and as I’m starving right now, I see rice krispies in my immediate future. Lunch will be baked chicken and string beans.
OK, that’s enough of that. Let’s check my progress on Monday.

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  • Najeema: I've got the same plans (and posterboard on my kitchen table) for a vision board. I'll share mine if you share yours, lol. Hoping you attract everythi
  • NVRGVUP: Love is where it's at!