This is a public service announcement.
Brought to you by the makers of Christina, and Christina's heart. Supplying the world with pure joy since 1981.
When I get ready to go out there are a few things that happen.
Step One is usually digging through my closet, desperately trying to find an outfit that makes me look: smart, skinny yet big-bootied, sexy but not slutty, stylish but not trendy, approachable but not accessible. It's too much.
THen comes the hair. 180 degree heat to straighten it. Resulting in horrible burns when the iron slips. Dry split ends. Bathroom smellin like burnt hair.
Perfume..make-up...
drinks. drinks drinks drinks. Because everything looks better in my mirror after at least 3 grey goose and cranberrys.
i go out. I see everyone else who went through the same exact steps. Looking fabulous. Putting their best foot forward.
It's easy to be amazing for one night. It's easy to be that girl who's happy. Who flirts just enough, smiles just enough. Laughs. Tells jokes. Dances.
I don't want to sound fucked up, but its easy to be fake.
But that's just game. Every decent woman who's over 25 knows game.
And game recognize game. That's why, at this point,its motherfucking pointless.
The only thing in this world that separates me (or you) from everyone else in that club is my heart. What you hold in your heart, is what you are.
Not that metallic eyeshadw from MAC.
Not those dope ass boots from some cute little boutique.
That makes you feel like the shit for 2 hours.
It's what you hold in your heart that keeps you company on that ride back home from the club.
I am emotional. I do the DUMBEST shit in the world. I do everything I know I shouldn't.
I know how I should react. I know what i should, or should not say.
I know how to make it seem like shit doesnt effect me.
But I'm tired of that. i'm tired of the basic facade of it all.
My heart is full. It's thick. Like my laugh. Or my thighs.
And I can not apologize for any of it.
I can only hope that the person who loves me eventually will also love that.
Too much time is spent thinking and pondering and second guessing ourselves.
Endless conversations about "what did he mean by this?" "what should I wear here" "why didn't he call back."
It's a waste of time.
I am not a Stepford wife. I will trip. I will cry. I will be hilariously funny...and then melancholic. It's because that's all in me.
And its all real.
I will never be untrue. I will never be unfaithful. I will never be fake. But that also means, I will never be perfect.
I know that in my heart, it will pay off one day.
I also know that in the meantime I will be hurt a thousand more times until I find that.
So to those of you who are reading this. No, I don't think I've ever been in love.
Because I must admit that I don't think true love ever ends.
Nothing will ever happen to make me wake up and look at Olivia and tell her that, although she's been an amazing daughter, and I think she's a wonderful person, I just can't handle her drama sometimes and I need to focus on myself.
And nothing will ever make me look at the man I love and say to him that same dumb shit.
So yes I'm a wonderful woman. And yes I find love.
But it will be difficult and I will not be perfect. And you will want to choke the shit out of me sometimes.
But I urge you. To look into my eyes and into my heart. And realize the only reason I do the shit I do, is because I feel it.
If I didnt care, I wouldn't care...and I would take a sip of my wine, roll my eyes, and walk away.
So please I urge you. When you see me out. Don't try and holler. If you already know you just want to fuck and keep it moving...then don't even bother.
I'm not 21 and I've been down this road many times before.
So I say, publicly, I'm not pressed.
All or nothing. In or out. I dont play.
ANd if that means I'm alone forever, so be it.
Brought to you by the makers of Christina, and Christina's heart. Supplying the world with pure joy since 1981.
When I get ready to go out there are a few things that happen.
Step One is usually digging through my closet, desperately trying to find an outfit that makes me look: smart, skinny yet big-bootied, sexy but not slutty, stylish but not trendy, approachable but not accessible. It's too much.
THen comes the hair. 180 degree heat to straighten it. Resulting in horrible burns when the iron slips. Dry split ends. Bathroom smellin like burnt hair.
Perfume..make-up...
drinks. drinks drinks drinks. Because everything looks better in my mirror after at least 3 grey goose and cranberrys.
i go out. I see everyone else who went through the same exact steps. Looking fabulous. Putting their best foot forward.
It's easy to be amazing for one night. It's easy to be that girl who's happy. Who flirts just enough, smiles just enough. Laughs. Tells jokes. Dances.
I don't want to sound fucked up, but its easy to be fake.
But that's just game. Every decent woman who's over 25 knows game.
And game recognize game. That's why, at this point,its motherfucking pointless.
The only thing in this world that separates me (or you) from everyone else in that club is my heart. What you hold in your heart, is what you are.
Not that metallic eyeshadw from MAC.
Not those dope ass boots from some cute little boutique.
That makes you feel like the shit for 2 hours.
It's what you hold in your heart that keeps you company on that ride back home from the club.
I am emotional. I do the DUMBEST shit in the world. I do everything I know I shouldn't.
I know how I should react. I know what i should, or should not say.
I know how to make it seem like shit doesnt effect me.
But I'm tired of that. i'm tired of the basic facade of it all.
My heart is full. It's thick. Like my laugh. Or my thighs.
And I can not apologize for any of it.
I can only hope that the person who loves me eventually will also love that.
Too much time is spent thinking and pondering and second guessing ourselves.
Endless conversations about "what did he mean by this?" "what should I wear here" "why didn't he call back."
It's a waste of time.
I am not a Stepford wife. I will trip. I will cry. I will be hilariously funny...and then melancholic. It's because that's all in me.
And its all real.
I will never be untrue. I will never be unfaithful. I will never be fake. But that also means, I will never be perfect.
I know that in my heart, it will pay off one day.
I also know that in the meantime I will be hurt a thousand more times until I find that.
So to those of you who are reading this. No, I don't think I've ever been in love.
Because I must admit that I don't think true love ever ends.
Nothing will ever happen to make me wake up and look at Olivia and tell her that, although she's been an amazing daughter, and I think she's a wonderful person, I just can't handle her drama sometimes and I need to focus on myself.
And nothing will ever make me look at the man I love and say to him that same dumb shit.
So yes I'm a wonderful woman. And yes I find love.
But it will be difficult and I will not be perfect. And you will want to choke the shit out of me sometimes.
But I urge you. To look into my eyes and into my heart. And realize the only reason I do the shit I do, is because I feel it.
If I didnt care, I wouldn't care...and I would take a sip of my wine, roll my eyes, and walk away.
So please I urge you. When you see me out. Don't try and holler. If you already know you just want to fuck and keep it moving...then don't even bother.
I'm not 21 and I've been down this road many times before.
So I say, publicly, I'm not pressed.
All or nothing. In or out. I dont play.
ANd if that means I'm alone forever, so be it.
Comments
Post a Comment