Archive for June, 2007

“wax on/ wax off!” – it ain’t just for macchio

So as my esthetician rips the hair off any particular area i’ve chosen to angle or bald that week she does the usual “so how you doin’ with your current ex situation?”

–what does it mean that hours later, i still have a hard time singling out which fucking one?


June 23, 2007 at 5:44 am Leave a comment

Angelina’s Next Big Adoption!


so I had no clue blackface was making a comeback in the twenty-first century or that Angelina’s been hoping to evoke the ghost of Bert Williams. Jolie is playing Mariane Pearl in the upcoming “A Mighty Heart.” The film is based on a memoir by Pearl about the execution of her journalist husband at the hands of terrorists. Pearl is of Afro-Cuban and Dutch descent. She’s born, raised, lives in Pareeeeee, France. In France,, she’s perhaps considered French, European, or mixed. Over here in these parts, bitch is black.

So that’s why yes I take issue with Angie’s lil-white ass portraying Pearl in the movie. This is a film that’s been long in the making. Initially Brad Pitt and his then wife Jennifer Aniston were going to produce the film, and Aniston was going to play Pearl! But then we all know what happened and Aniston gave up her rights to the production company and Pitt classily gave the part to Angie.

All I can say for Pearl’s lack of conflict with white women playing her is that she is not American and does not grasp the unfortunate lenses us Yanks wear regarding race and ethnicity. But Aniston, Pitt, and Jolie come from this side of the ocean and damn sure know what’s white and what ain’t.

Over here, when I walk into a room, I’m not someone who’s Afro-Irish-French-Greek, my ass is the black person in the room. And I’m ok with that, in fact, proud. I’m American and that’s how I was informed. Nobody gives a shit what fraction of what I am because we still have the one-drop rule going on underneath the radar.

But more important than my own personal kerfuffle, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle before I believe that Halle Berry (white mother, identifies as black because..well..duh), Vanessa Williams, Rosario Dawson (who publicly identifies as fractionary), or any other mixed-race American actresses weren’t available for this role. The story goes that Angie wanted the role, anyway: “Slap some cork on me and call me Bessie!”

So my question now is, “Who’s white ass can I pretend to be?”

June 15, 2007 at 7:41 pm 1 comment

Pass me that cork, Brad…

So I guess I missed the memo on the return of blackface?


June 15, 2007 at 3:38 am 1 comment

Before (hopefully)

this is me at my most vulnerable. here it/i is/am.

i dont wear tight clothes; in fact i turned what used to be slovenly attempts to cover up my body around the skinny girls i went to school with into a funky, bohemian chic look i’m known and praised for.

still, i am both fashion-conscious and self-conscious: i pick trendy items that first and foremost cover up:
“mmm, this shirt is only 25″ down, that won’t cover up my hips enough.”
“o no, that only comes to my waist and its summer, i can’t have my ass on display.”
“this is too clingy, i don’t want my rolls to visibly jiggle when i walk.”
“this color is pretty but too light, dark colors will make me look smaller.”
“above the knee, skirt, phshaw! my knees are too fat!”

i am 5 foot 3 1/4 inches. i weigh 151 pounds. i am 10 pounds over my height/weight range of 107 to 141. my BMI is 27, 2 points over the limit.

when i was diagnosed with MS last year i told myself i was no longer going to hate this body of mine. ever since i was 11 i was uncomfortable in my own flesh, hating it, morphing it, taking pills, running too hard, regurgitating all just to get out of this body. and then i’m told my body is destroying itself. my brain has difficulties communicating to my body. there are scars on my brain. all that foolish angst perhaps pushed my own body to begin to eat away at itself. so i resolved to no longer fight this body i’m in. i can’t exist as if i live in a cage.

but sometimes (sh)it happens. i still dress hippie-ish, but i occasionally live on the wild side and wear a shorter dress or skinny jeans (with loose tops!).

i’ve always worked out off and on. my eating habits weren’t always the best but over the past two years i eat pretty healthily. i could definitely lay off the booze units, but my best attempt so far has been to stick to the vino.

this past winter and spring i worked out more, ate even better and lost some weight i’d oddly enough put on over the summer. people noticed, people praised, i obliged. i met boys and got naked with them (no slut)*. i began to like myself in the shower; and take longer periods to get dressed.

so that’s why when a boy told me he turns off the lights to “get used to” me physically because i’m fat, i have had somewhat of a relapse.

ive never met his friends but he tells them i am fat or big. or they tell him that and he obliges, i don’t know and he won’t go there anymore. and maybe that’s fine – it’s okay to find your partner lacking or gorging in certain features. but it’s something else altogether to turn off the lights so one can fuck.

i’m not like most of the women he dates. ok, i get that. but if he’s not attracted to my type, then he has no business humoring me as if he was. we all have our likes and dislikes and we stick to ’em.

i think the boy deserves a teeny tiny bit of leeway: for perhaps he saw me as big because that is how i present myself by covering up. still, i told the boy it’d be okay if he found me to be a fat girl. but it’s not ok to treat me like the fat girl.

funnily enough, i’ve been on a diet while all this went down. and now, (i know, it’s sad; don’t let him get to you, yada yada) i’m on one hardcore.

i did the right thing, i ended it with the boy. dignity’s a cold companion but at least i wouldn’t feel like shit all the time with him.

still, my diet plan instructs to take “before” pics so i can note any changes, if at all, in my body over the weeks. so here is my before, here is me, here is the fat girl who can’t be touched with the lights on.

FYI: the boy mentioned once that my blog title referred to my panty size. Gasp! – Heavens No: it refers to the phrase quoted right below the title and refers to manning up and grabbing life by the horns, so to speak. that said, i do feel my panties are for big girls meaning that they no longer have the dates of the week on them.

*i’m trying to introduce “no slut” in the “no-homo” vein, so just go with me here…..

June 12, 2007 at 12:09 am 6 comments

Prince Charming?

So there’s this boy and i’m this girl. and we’ve been dating for about 8 weeks now. half of those weeks have been spent in two different states on the phone everyday. the other half in my apartment on the couch or in my bed. we like each other. i think i’m happy.

BUT – ha ha, of course – he’s your typical buppie: Ivy-League B-School Wall Street-bound, wealthy background, weathy lofty goals, churchgoer, the people he plans to have in his life all fit neatly into the Dewey decimal system.

Now despite that I am just as well-read, getting an Ivy-League PhD, love NYC and all it has to offer, look fabulous 24/7 in the highest most painful of heels, and can hold my own in almost any circle I sneak my way into, to this kind of boy I am a communist (democrat) hippie (non-business or law) who wears maternity clothes (tunics w/ skinny jeans, sailor pants with tees), listens to crap (bjork, broken social scene, old school rap), and gets her groceries from earth-people stores (trader joes).

But the above is exactly why we mesh so well and something we both enjoy. though recently the inevitable occurred and the inevitable was said: I am not who he pictures to be his future-wife.

It wasn’t mean, it wasn’t hurtful. It was in the context of discussing where we stood with the other and the “future” and I’d expressed insecurities of his taking me seriously because of his tongue-in-cheek hippie comments; would this man show me off to his buppie friends? would he just have fun with me now, but later on say “hey, babe, you know this won’t work forever, we’re just having fun.”?

He layered the wife comment with the fact that (among other inspirations obviously) because we both turned out to be more than jump-offs to the other he’s been re-evaluating a lot of what his expectations and goals are. Maybe that’s leading me on, maybe he doesn’t want me to go, who knows? Like most men he doesn’t give too much thought to the future but know what they do or don’t want. And right now, he wants me.

What all of the above’s got me thinking about has nothing to do with him or us at all. Do I sound completely idiotic and naive when I say I haven’t given much thought to who it is I picture marrying? Honestly if I ever picture myself in domestic bliss, all I can see is me rambling and some quiet guy in the background reading the paper and nodding along at the proper cues.

So maybe it’s the nicotine or alcohol withdrawal but I’m in a deep state of wonder. Are we supposed to have some cookie-cutter image all set up for who we should be with before we set foot on fertile dating ground? Or do we follow the cues and carve away at the molds given to us from each experience?

June 6, 2007 at 3:12 am 1 comment

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