The art of falling off.......

Anyone that follows me on Facebook is aware of the fuckery in my stats. Some for humors sake, but all in all centered in honesty. On a cold fall day in late October like the cheap psuedo writer I am I walked into Starbucks with my laptop, and enough change for one birthday cake pop, and a venti blond roast. While walking in I noticed a ridiculously huge billboard promoting a performance by Ashanti in a casino up north. My initial response? To jump on my laptop and post about how her upcoming Ho-Chunk Casino performance was the ultimate fall off. Damn.....my girl has officially fell all the fuckin way off. Even shook my head and giggled a little bit. About six weeks later I found myself asking to punch out early so I could find an outfit to see Ms. Ashanti in all her glory. Needless to say I had to eat my fucking words and suppress my childish hater-filled giggles. Even if she had fallen off she convinced a self-proclaimed non-fan such as myself to pay my hard-earned money to see what she had in-store. Hell I really only wanted to hear her sing, "The Way That I Love You". Yep I paid fifty bucks to hear one song LOL. Not bad for a chick who had fallen off. Which made me ask....really what does it mean to fall off? Who makes that decision? Do we really know another's struggle?  

    Well first what does it mean to "fall off"? Falling off is the term used for someone who was at the top of their "game" (dope, entertainment, sports, etc). Top dog. The best. The most popular. And fast forward is a footnote. Now when their name is brought up it usually is followed by, "What happened to them?" I classify plenty as a fall off: Allen Iverson, and 50 cent to name a few, but what they hell do I really know?

   One day while being messy with my ex's new girlfriend we somehow found ourselves in a HER end initiated Facebook inbox argument. I was being asshole me. Antagonizing the hell out of the girl merely because I could. She contacted me asking me about the "relationship" between me and my ex knowing that he was man handling her snatch while he and I were still together. She deserved what pain and lies she received and I found a certain amount of humor and vindication in her hurt and anger, so I replied with responses that only added fuel to the fire. I was winning messy bitch points at their finest until she responded with a message that read: Who the fuck are you...you ain't got shyt. You're just a waitress. In hindsight I could've  told her that I have never made less than $35,000 a year as a waitress, that I have never had a bill late unless it's because I'm just irresponsible and it's pretty easy for me to make 175 in tips, not work a full eight hour shift and still find time for her "boo" to face dive on my clitoris. Instead I moved onto other insults.

   Days later...that convo still bothered me a bit. Not because of the sheer messiness of it all, but because I felt as if I had fallen off. Had I? Nope. I'm still doing what I want to do, how I want to do it, and taking care of home with it. But it bothered me that a woman who didn't know anything about me outside of what my lying ex had told her and what she learned while lurking on my social media sites had made a twisted assumption about me. Suddenly it became bigger than her. Who else felt like I was nothing because of my job? Shiddd I make good money!!! I wanted to somehow prove that...till reality hit. What was making me feel a need to show someone who meant nothing to me the balance in my checking account? Did it really matter what anyone thought? If I had fallen off in no way would she be of assistance to pick me up. I had to reprogram my mind. She had no real understanding of me or my life. An outsider looking in and seeing very little of the picture. No different than the judging I was doing of others. Which probably meant I too had no fucking clue what I was talking bout.

  On a freezing cold December 7th night I ran all over the city completing the ultimate concert outfit, and creating the perfect face of makeup. I got ready for the concert while listening to my best of Ashanti mix. My cousin and I got in the car and drove a painstaking, scenery lacking two and a half hours and bounced up and down with teenage excitement the entire time. When she hit that stage I jumped up and screamed like everyone else. I closed my eyes and drifted back to past hurt when she sang, "Rain On Me", damn near cried when she belted out, "The Way That I love you". And somehow magically knew her new unreleased tracks. When the lights went up and everyone left the theater I was reluctant to go. Not bad for what I classified as a fall off. As I did the math...she managed to pack that theater making no less than $20,000 that night. My $175.00 a day doesn't compare, but just like myself she damn sure hasn't fell off. If that's what it means. I can take that. Hell sign me up for one right now. Or I can erase it from my vocabulary altogether.

Butt.......

 Yep.....my butt is.....BIG

The single girl Chronicles

DISCLAIMER: As of this Friday I am now a single woman. For all logical reasons please don't feel bad for me. These past three years went from bad to worse and being the hopeless romantic I am I believed that love will conquer all. Love does not conquer all. Common sense does. Is it somewhat painful? Yes. But it was necessary. Did I cry? Yes, but I believe that phase is quickly over. Now I'm on to the most important part. Focusing on me. The woman I lost. The woman I hope to gain. I made my fair share of mistakes. The biggest being not walking away at the first sign of chaos, lies, and deceit. I won't go into the sordid details. I will just motivate, uplift, and love what remains. ME. So I introduce my new segment: The single girl chronicles. The journey from my low point as I strive to get as high as I possibly can.


And to celebrate this new found singledom I want to dedicate a song to my ex. A song that is really helping me through this right now. My Chocolate girl Wonder followers probably remember me posting this a few weeks ago, but this live performance of the song is much better. Enjoy!






Tell me why I'm living? some days my work seems so in vain.
I talk to you, you dont here nothing I say
What's up with this game?
Why am I so forgiving?
Why am I always checking for these fools?
If he ain't hearing none of home girls rules
Why do I play?

I'd rather play alone
Oh, I can't play a fool anymore, no
No, I don't need a game anymore, you could play the fool
I'ma play my hero, you go be a zero
Ohhh, I'd rather play alone, Oh, I can't play a fool anymore
Noo, no I don't need a game anymore, you could play the fool
I'ma play my hero, you goin be a zero
I'm playing the goodbye game,

Hit the highway, call you a cab, gimme back my keys
Goodbye to baggage you ain't bagging me,
I'm gonna smile when I wave, goodbye baby
I'm gonna take the low road,
Ain't got no pride I ain't putting up fight
Get out the boxing ring it's T.K.O tonight.
walk that way,

I'd rather play alone, Oh I can't play a fool anymore
No I don't need a game anymore, you could play the fool
I'ma play my hero, you go be a zero Ohh, i'd rather play alone,
Oh, I can't play a fool anymore, No, no I don't need a game anymore
You can play the fool, i'ma play my hero, you go be a zero
I'm playing the goodbye game,

We play the game until we lose it
I'd rather leave you before I do. I'd rather say I left a cheater and be a quitter, I'm still a winner

Ohhh, Ohh sing oh oh oh oh oh Ohh Ohh if it hurt so bad say oh
Oh, Sing one more time with me,
Oh, oh, oh, I just can't say the way I feel right now
Say oh, oh
One more time, oh
i'ma play alone
Oh,I can't play the fool anymore
No, I don't need a game anymore, you could play the fool
I'ma play my hero, you gonna be a zero
I'd rather play alone, I can't play a fool anymore
I don't need a game anymore, you could play the fool
I'ma play my hero, you go be a zero
I'm playing the goodbye game




yes...We play the game until we lose it
I'd rather leave you before I do. I'd rather say I left a cheater and be a quitter, I'm still a winner

Are you there God it's me Valecia

Dear God,

     I'm not exactly sure what I need to do to get this body, but I am more than willing to do it. Can you please help create and mold this for me please. This woman's name is Anowa Aadjah. She is referred to as the Nigerian Powerhouse. Now there is no need to make me Nigerian. I just want the body. Or one quite similar. Apparently she weighs over 200 pounds (such as myself), but we all know my body looks nothing like that.  I am sure that my 5'4" stature will make this no easy feat but I am willing to work on it. Since you created me you already know that I have a little over eight months until my 30th birthday. I need to be at least 50% there by then. Asking a trainer to do this for me would be stupid. But I'm not. I'm asking you. I mean really. You are God. You can do anything. Thanks in Advance. Here's another pic to get a full understanding of what I'm looking for.

  Thanks....I love you!                                                  

Confessions of a bitter Bitch: Should fatties get a room??? My response to the Marie Claire article

Disclaimer: I am not all that fashion forward. I purchase magazines that represent women like me. Like me meaning: African-American, young, working-class, and plus-sized. In my humble opinion Marie Claire doesn't represent the woman I am....therefore I don't purchase it. I do however feel a need to respond to what I consider is an attack on my person and persons like myself. I am aware everyone has an opinion, but that seems pretty effed up and hurtful. So I have no choice, but to respond. 

First and foremost if you have no clue what I'm talking about please read this first. 

Marie Claire's Mike and Molly Article

First I'm not sure who irritates me more in this situation. CBS for making this show, Mike and Molly which isn't a look into the romance of an overweight couple, but merely a vaguely veiled excuse to make fun of plus-sized people. Or Ms. Maura Kelly who simply described the overweight population as lazy asses who have put forth absolutely no effort to change their lifestyles. Or should I be mad at Marie Claire for printing this BS for the world to see? Eff it. I'm mad at all three. So let me break it down into sections. 

CBS

It would be one thing if you chose to make this a romantic drama or something worth watching, but a couple that meets at an Overeaters Anonymous meeting??? ummm seriously?? Filled with fat jokes??? are you serious?? Maybe ideas like this is the reason why I stopped watching CBS in like......the late eighties. This is a complete fail on your part. 97.1 Million people in the United States Of America are overweight. I'm sure out of that large number of people you are poking fun at one is at the very least the son, daughter, mother or father of someone on that set. Hell we know there is at least two overweight characters on set already. The two who chose to take the leading roles *rolls eyes* and I can't possibly begin to imagine what they were thinking. Well CBS I'm disappointed with you, but then again I don't really expect that much from you anyway. I'm not quite sure why I even acknowledged you. This either won't make it to the lineup or will be off the air quicker than you can say Walker Texas Ranger.

Ms. Maura Kelly

I'm confused as to why I even found this on your blog. From the side excerpt explaining it this blog was made solely for you to catalog your search for love. It also read that you are in your thirties and have never been in love. Hmmm I wonder why??? What does berating people have to do with you finding someone?? My fat ass has never had to catalog my lack of love life and datelessness. Wanna know why??? Because that has never been the case for me. I've always been wanted. Even if it was the wrong damn guy. I never searched for love. It came to me because I am a good, uplifting, positive kind hearted person. I care about the feelings of others and respect people's differences. Whether I weighed 185 or 265. There is some young beautiful plus size teenager who read those words and you could have very well crippled her self-esteem. I think what really rubbed you the wrong way was seeing two fat people kissing and in love. While you watched the episode while picking at a salad with no dressing, doing tricep dips on a chair and squats during commercials......ALONE. I understand health is important, but open your eyes. Everyone is supposed to be different. No one has to meet your requirements. And if I must say so myself I may be fat, but I look a hell of a lot better than you. According to all the comments left for you on your blog I'm sure the hurtful things said to you stung, but not as much as what you wrote. Maybe before you turn forty you'll get it right until then....I'll just pray for you. 

Marie Claire

If you are looking for new and exciting ways to ruin your readership keep Maura Kelly around, but if you want to tap into the wide market of overweight women and our hard earned dollars you need a new approach. Shame on you for giving such a bigoted woman an outlet to spew her BS. 

*steps down off her soapbox* So readers tell me what you think of her. Do you agree with her? I do understand everyone has an opinion I am just really turned off by her use of words. 

.....love-whipping???? LOL

Between this.....

and this........

Little black girls and their hair are having the best week ever!!

I love it !!!

Throwback Thursday

In high school I was the token fat girl. Cute, funny and somewhat.....mean. But I had a fashion sense like none other. I rocked the grunge look. The B-girl look. The Diva look. I looked damn good everyday. The flyest fat girl J.I.Case High had seen. But ya know what?? I didn't have a lick of self-confidence. I had some girls in my clique that were lighter than me and quite questionable in attractiveness. Guys loved them. Fat, skinny, homely, smart, dumb as rocks, etc. I assumed it was because I was a dark girl. A black ass girl to be exact. It put a dent in my already low self-esteem. And then....foxy brown came out.

She was pretty, chocolate, sexy and just two years older than me. And every word that dripped off the "Ill Na Na" album were my freshman through sophomore. Something about that album made me walk taller, strut a little more and feel a little better about my dark chocolate self. The one that put the biggest sway in my step was.....




"Love thyself put no one above thee 'cuz ain't no body gon' love me like me"

Dear Tasia,

Dear Fantasia, 


      Every since you won Idol I have been on your team. I'll admit I didn't watch a damn ounce of it that season, but I watched the finale hoping the black girl with "the extra black features that danced in heels" would win. And lo and behold you did. I was sooo happy for you. You gave faith to all us not-so-cute quirky looking sisters all over the world. And that final winners' rendition of "When You Believe" left me crying the rest of the evening. You were more than the winner....you were kinda...I don't know...like me. Like the kinda girl I would call my friend . And that's why miss mama...we need to talk..SERIOUSLY!!!!


  From one pseudo friend to another pseudo friend, artist to fan, or sister girl to sister girl this bangin' other people's husbands' mess is NOT a good look. Hearing about this drama riled me up like bad weave bunched up at the nape. Don't be fooled mama men don't cheat because the woman they are with is not offering something they should. They cheat simply because they do and can. And if a woman such as yourself is willing to lower her standards and give up nana to a man why would he not take it?? Is the world on your case?? Hmm...maybe. Is it unfair? Hell no. Some people may argue and say this man is solely at fault because it was his marriage, but I say it's always the fault of "the other woman". If women weren't willing to be the extra person there wouldn't be anyone to cheat with and at the end of the day all his bogus ass could do is go home to his wife. Just like he is supposed to. There aren't certain kind of women that are worth cheating on and others that are not. If he loved her enough to marry her and he cheated on her please believe your ass is next. He will do it again.....not today, tomorrow, or even next year, but......eventually. 


This is a mistake, but not a catastrophe. This is nothing to end your life over. What takes more guts is walking away from the drama and living a life of higher standards. Better yet kill him lol. (just kidding). This is your moment to show the world what a real good woman would do. The world doesn't hate you. But there are plenty of women in the world (namely fans of you) who have been cheated on before and we are not feeling your pain. And don't ask us to. We still got love for you we're just not agreeance with your behaviors. We still love you Tasia. Remember......anything is possible when you believe.






     

Confessions of a bitter bitch.....Pt. 1 My Almost Demise

I've been hurt, cheated on, and lied to. Many times. Yet I continued to believe the power of love would prevail over all. I believed the promises of change, the belief that things would get better, the idea that every thing was something that could be fixed.

So I forged ahead in this murky water of a relationship. Until I couldn't even see where I was going anymore. And worse off.....I couldn't even see my hand in front of my own damn face. I was so stuck on forging ahead I couldn't see myself. I lost the most important person...me. And when I lost her..me, my main bitch...all hell broke loose. My ability to be logical and rational flew out the door. I began to blame everyone else for his infidelities...even myself. The other woman became the enemy even though she was just as clueless as I was. I wanted to go to war. I wanted destruction and blood on the pavement. I wanted heads to roll and people to feel as bad , hopeless, useless, destroyed, and torn down as I felt. I wanted someone to feel the emptiness I felt in my heart. That nulling pain that I filled with alcohol all day. I needed someone to feel that lump in my throat that caused me to eat one meal every other day. I needed someone else to lose sleep and cry. I needed someone else...anyone else to pay. To pay for my heartache. I became elusive, distant, cold and callous. I closed my eyes and envisioned my lover meeting his demise at my very own hands. I had planned at very least giving him the ass whooping of a lifetime. Hospitalization included of course. Breathing tubes and all. And while setting up in my head this crazy plan, sitting silently, methodically on my bed. Letting my thoughts brew and fester that would lead me to becoming the next new SNAPPED episode.... I STOPPED.

Only then had I realized what this situation had done to me My bitterness was seconds away from eating me alive. The tears began to fall and I couldn't catch my breath. I felt trapped. In a relationship that would never be right, in a relationship that was killing my very existence and spirit. I picked up the phone and called my best friend. "I'm not strong enough to leave", I cried. "I need help". And together in and hour and a half we devised my getaway plan. A plan that requires me leaving my home, my city, my state. Which all may seem drastic, but the plan also included, the most important elements: Regaining my life. Nurturing my soul. Rediscovering Valecia. Picking up the pieces. And making me whole again. So now I prepare myself for a new home and for the healing to begin. This will not be easy. But my God it is so necessary. Am I still hurt??? yes. Angry?? Damn right!  Bitter? Most definitely. Time to heal..... I'm so ready for the process to begin.  I no longer want to be...bitter.

Behind the mask......

DISCLAIMER: I'm not really sure where this is going to lead me, but it's what my heart says needs to be done. I feel like I am so easy to figure out. I'm what I like to call simple complex. There are so many levels to the woman I am, but I'm not hard to understand. Or so I thought. I'm obviously very wrong. My thoughts are always construed. The opinions of me range from psycho, crazy, demanding, anal retentive, bossy, bitter bitch to cool, funny, silly, relate able, honest, smart, a great friend, an even better confider,  authoritative, level-headed and supportive. These are ALL true. Too a certain extent. Personally I thought I fell somewhere in the middle. I feel so misunderstood. So...allow me to reintroduce myself. Chocolate Girl Wonder. The Dark Chocolate Princess. Valecia. On a work day just, V.  This is who I am. Behind the Synthetic Freetress, The Milkyway 1B, and the MAC. Even behind the words on this page. Let's discuss the woman behind the mask.







MYTH #1 : You're a bitch!
I am hyper sensitive. I wear my heart on my sleeve and my emotions in my pocket. A harsh word. A slight sharp look. A sour critique. And my day is virtually ruined. I try not to be that sensitive, but it's who I am. I am very good at hiding it. When I was little I was the brunt of a lot of jokes. I'll say between the ages of 4 and 7 I got picked on a lot. The funny thing was I was always picked on by 12 and 13 year olds. I quickly learned how to build up an exterior. First I learned how to fight. Warrior fight. To the point where I had fear of no one. Not a soul. Then I became quick-witted. I could shut down a person with my words without thinking. I began to make grown men cry with my words. Some of the things that came out of my mouth would even startle me. After that I was left alone. But I think the years of fighting, animosity, and resentfulness had just made me mean. But that all came from protecting myself. That's all I have is me. If I can't protect that I'm hopeless. I've seemed to have mastered the "I don't give a fuck" demeanor. The real story is I give a fuck too much!  If I had it my way the world would be my friend. We would all hold hands and drink Coke. I'm just not that lucky.I personally think it's a better look to be caught checking somebody than crying. I just don't want to be SEEN as weak. Even though I have just admitted enough to be seen as weak. *shrugs*

MYTH #2 You fake!!!
 If you mean fake as in hair and acrylics then hell yeah I am....and proud, but if you mean fake as in phony, not being honest about who I am then obviously you haven't read this blog for long. If I died knowing that I only had one redeeming quality it would be that I'm honest. I can't pretend to be someone else. I am who I am. I could attempt to make the story look better, but it is what the hell it is. I'm what people may sometimes call blunt. If you're looking for someone to tell you the truth I will. So why would I lie about myself for. Here's some honesty ready:
; I am typing this while drinking a bottle (yes bottle) of Moscato. I could very well be considered a functioning alcoholic.....
 I have never really seen me as pretty...ever! I saw myself as incredibly photogenic in the right light
 I just can't seem to lose any weight lately I think I'm gonna give the fuck up
; I dropped out as a college junior with a major in Journalism, I now serve pancakes for a living.
 I blog like I talk so proper grammar is not a priority.....
 anything else I need to expose about me??? Hmm??? Maybe this comes from people who look at my facebook pictures and then see my plump body and shiny ass face out and about who knows what the fuck it is, but I am far from fake....be like Nicki Minaj and Roger that shit!!

MYTH #3 You're a loner!!
 Ummm yes and no! I'd rather surround myself with people I love. If you are someone that I consider a friend, but not a close one start acting funny. I will not even think about questioning your actions I will just cut you from the list. I rather have no one on my list than some attitudinal sometimey ass people in my life. I was born alone and will more than likely die alone. Why not get some "me" time in between?

 I know I haven't even delved into half of it, but I tried. Maybe someday I will be understood....maybe.

Love and the unsatisfiable man aka you expect me to do what????

DISCLAIMER: This is going to get just a little personal. So if you know me personally try NOT to discuss this with me it's the feelings I am more than willing to share with the world that I just refuse to talk about one on one....weird?? I know. Deal with it. This is what I think and feel. There's a comment box for your opinion, but yet and still I'm Chocolate Girl Wonder and this is my proverbial soap box. I stand on it all alone. *smiles*

"Why don't you love me when I make me so damn easy to love"

                                                    -Beyonce Knowles-Carter

I've heard the stories about what it takes to keep a man. It requires being a good woman. I do a good job with that. I have my own job. Yes it's not a career, but it pays my bills. I am smart. I have my own place. I'm loving. Supportive. Pay my own bills. I can cook. I can clean. I have a relationship with my Creator. I have my own car. I'm fairly attractive. I have common sense. I'm not embarrassing in public. I try to be a great accent to my man's life. Not a nuisance. I know the role of the woman and I play it well. Oh.....and don't be fooled by the size 18 jeans. My sex game is vicious. Yeah you read that right ....VICIOUS!! Yet and still I find myself in the same love rat race as my friends who have not a clue. I get the idea that these men...... *gasp* want more. 


I have yet to figure out what the more is. I just came to the conclusion that a woman can be everything that she should be to her significant other and yet and still that simply isn't enough to keep him happy. Whether it be a roaming, hand, eye, and/or penis or just sheer restlessness when they get the girl that fits their mental list they don't know what to do with her, that is except make more requests. And women...we attempt to cater. Why??  We tend to bend over backwards to ensure a relationship rather than be single.  Or we oblige out of love. So we continue to try in vain, because the list NEVER seems to be fulfilled. But the real questions remain unasked. While you're jumping through hoops. Do these men really meet your requirements? I have found myself jumping through hoops for men who have proven themselves to be abusers, cheaters, manipulators, and all around losers. All for the name of love. All for the idea of finding the ONE. Never making any of them jump through hoops. Just expecting them to be the kind-hearted, smart, head-strong good man they seemed to be in the beginning while *sigh* alas getting no results. But I'm still scrambling eggs, while showering and somehow giving head all before I head out the door at seven in the morning. (Sorry for the unnecessary visual, but you get my point) All so I can still not be enough. 


Is this an excuse for men to not settle down, to not commit, to not marry, to not mature. Is this what we as females have to live with? Or is it simply what we deal with? When we expect more we will get more. Or better yet we should lengthen our list of requirements. Maybe we should be waking up to some scrambled eggs and head, and know that it's NOT a power thing, or a demand issue, or doing it out of fear of singledom, but out of true love and the desire to cater to each others needs. The equation is simple an Unsatisfied man = an unsatisfied woman. So we all know what a happy woman equals...... a very happy man. 

even with out clothes...never take it off.....

So....I'm a fat girl. Yep. Been one for the largest part of my life. It has given me a great deal of insight. A little bit of struggle, but most importantly it allowed me to put on my armor and fierceness EVERYDAY. Some call it confidence. I refer to it as.......BADASSBITCHNESS. Yep. How unlady like of me to create such a term! But it's the one I use. Most importantly it fits. Allow me to explain.

One cold winter night in early 2008 a bored young lady sat at home in her fave Hanes her way tank and grubby sweat pants. Out of sheer boredom I (yes it was me) got off the couch and did my makeup, threw on one of my many wigs that lay in my hall closet, and began to take cell pics for lack of a better social life. After a few pics I was left with this.....

My first thought upon looking at my phone was, "Damn that's a bad bitch". It took awhile, but eventually I came to the conclusion that that "bad bitch" was me. Once that slowly sunk in I began to treat myself as such. I stopped feeling as if a girl in a size six jean was better than me or that I was any less great of a catch because I shopped in a different section than some of the girls from work I went on shopping excursions with. I finally became a confident woman. I think the new found confidence allowed me to be more outspoken, more comfortable in any situation, sexier, more....Valecia. I think that confidence helped start my relationship with E.B. Honestly I felt unstoppable.

It didn't stay that way though. Not at all.

I don't blame my boyfriend for my personal feelings about myself, but sometimes women tend to connect their self-worth to their relationships. When things were good, I felt beautiful. When things were bad, I felt bad, ugly, and horrendously unworthy. The badassbitchness that had reeled him in was gone.

But I didn't know it yet.

In April of last year I decided to schedule a photo shoot. Not because I wanted to, but because my boyfriend thought it was a good idea. In between the 3 months before the shoot I worked out like crazy and focused hard on trying to make my photos the most positive experience possible. A few of my "urban plus size model" friends informed me that I was in good hands photographer wise. So all that was left to do was point and shoot. When I stepped out in the sun of the Chicago Lakeshore Drive location I froze up immediately. I could feel the sweat seeping through my dress. People were watching and probably wondering "Who the fuck is this fat girl?" I'm sure they wanted to know what made me so special. I'm sure they were judging everything about me. I realized then while worrying about my nails and clothes and hair I forgot to put on the most important piece. My BADASSBITCHNESS. I felt weak and extremely vulnerable. Others liked the pictures. Me?? Not so much simply because it made me think about the experience being slightly..crappy.

Confidence is not an easy thing. I struggle with it daily, but I get better with each morning I wake. Few have it in it's truest, purest, most unwavering form. Those people are generally considered egotistical and self-centered. One comes to mind immediately....


Honestly I envy these types. Just a little bit. BADASSBITCHNESS should never be taken off. Good days. Bad days. Dressed to the nines. In your sweats. Or butt ass naked. You should still have it on. Yes ladies. Your BADASSBITCHNESS and a smile and you can make it through anything. So with all that said,

"What are you wearing?"

Life as a Fat Girl Part 2

High school is difficult. Ten times more difficult when you're a chubby girl. A short, dark chubby girl with slightly askew hair. Guys weren't really into short, dark, chubby girls. Especially with askew hair. So I was single.  Of course there's no big thing about being a teenager and being single, but when the entire school is boo'ed up you feel like the unwanted link. And that's how  I felt. For the longest. Sometimes I still do. I assumed that the reason I was alone was because I was the fat girl. Boys don't like fat girls. Not even fat boys. So I relegated myself to being the best female friend possible. I even gave myself a motto "Valecia Ann Price, every guy's girl, but no man's woman". It made me laugh a little, but it was a little hurtful if I must be honest. I secretly thought I was undateable. I didn't even know that I could possibly be desirable to other desirable people until I packed my bags and extra long twin sheets and moved to Mississippi for college.

I suddenly became somebody. When I stepped out of the car and onto the heated ground of Senatobia, Mississippi I became...a woman. In the small towns speckled population of 6,682 people word picked up like wildfire about a little chocolate yankee girl who had come down to their humble little community college. So I was being looked for, and checked out, and suprisingly.......liked. I still kept my guard up. Mean as a pitbull, and as anti-social as they came I still secretly smiled cause guys were checking for me. Short, tall, skinny, husky, white, and black. They liked me...and this is where the real dilemna came about, because when you have attention for once in life.......



What the hell do you do with it?
PART THREE COMING SOON!

Random Verbal Spewage: What Fat is NOT.....

We all talk about fat, plumpness, obesity etc., but seriously what exactly is fat?
fat   /fæt/ Show Spelled adjective,fat·ter, fat·test, noun, verb,fat·ted, fat·ting. –adjective
–adjective

1. having too much flabby tissue; corpulent; obese: a fat person.

2. plump; well-fed: a good, fat chicken.

3. consisting of or containing fat; greasy; oily: fat gravy; fat meat.


Now that we got all that out of the way let's talk about what fat is NOT:
It's not an excuse to NOT give 100% of yourself. To not expect the very best treatment from people you meet. It's not a reason to NOT walk with your head held high. It's not a reason to not buy yourself a fierce outfit, powder your gorgeous face, gloss those sexy lips, do something fabulous with your hair and head out for a nite out, It's not a reason to stay in an unhappy or volatile relationship (cause trust me sweetheart you can and WILL do better), it's not a reason to be someone's second, third, or fourth option, it's not a reason to not be health minded fruits and veggies are NOT a rarity, but most of all.......

it's not a reason to NOT love yourself.

Life as a fat girl Part 1

Disclaimer: Life has never been easy for me. Not that I have a horrendous tear-filled Orphan Annie like story to tell, but it just wasn't an easy road to walk as a young girl. I like it that way. Anything that's easy to get is something not worth attaining in the first place. There is a stigma to being the "fat" girl. A taboo topic. People look at you like you're less than them. They talk about you, but not to you. But dammit right here right now, I'm gonna talk about it.

I always laugh and say that the last time I recall being a "normal" weight was August 19th, 1981. I was born at a healthy seven pounds and seven and a half ounces. Not too much. Not too little. My first memory of knowing I was fat was at age three. My grandmother babysat me most of the time and Friday was our day to go grocery shopping. If I was good I could get a meal of my choice from my favorite fast food restaurant, which was the beloved McDonald's. Needless to say, I was always good. One Friday I decided that because I was a big girl I could choose a big girl meal. I chose a Big Mac and fries. To my surprise my grandmother didn't tell me no. So after unloading all the groceries I was allowed to sit at the kitchen table and partake of my big girl meal. Not even three bites in my mother walked in from work. Tired, cold, and preoccupied with other things she began to rant and rave about her work day. Mid sentence she placed her eyes on me and let out a screech, "What the hell is in my baby's mouth?"  She took the sandwich out of my hand and turned to my grandmother. "Stop feeding my baby this stuff mama. That's why she's fat right now!" She then dropped my burger in the trash along with the fries. Being her hyper-emotional self she then ran into the bathroom to cry. At that moment at the age of three I learned two important lessons. I was FAT. And FAT was bad. It had to be bad. Otherwise it wouldn't make my mom cry. I wondered what could I do...to not be fat anymore.

My mother then began to discuss my fat-ness with her friends in front of me "Girl I just don't know what to do with her", she'd say. I'd keep playing in the yard with my friends pretending not to hear. She always had one friend who would blame my chubbiness on baby fat, tell her to leave me alone, and they'd pour another beer. I was okay with that excuse. Yeah it's baby fat, I would tell myself. And I'm going to outgrow it.


At five I remember my parents sent me to a nutritionist. As helpful as this was SUPPOSED to be it just wasn't. The nice white woman in the green dress (covered with a white lab coat I believe) asked me to make a list of my favorite foods. We then made a second list taking all my favorites that were healthy. One in particular was discussed. "You like pickles?" I nodded in agreement. "Well when you're hungry instead of having potato chips for a snack you should have some pickles instead". That created a pickle "addiction" that I still have to this day. Did I lose weight? Nuh uhn.


So I became the fat girl. No matter how I tried to fit in or no matter how many friends I had I was always very aware of my fatness. It changed my behaviorisms drastically. I became overly sarcastic and quick and sharp-witted because I had to be ready for the first fat insult. I became somewhat of a bullie to ensure that the insults never took place. I was always aware of my weight in the most horrible way. I survived the elementary and middle....but the hardest part was yet to come...high school.




PART TWO COMING SOON!

a change gon' come

My life has gotten stale. Yes stale. Like chips in a bag left opened. Or bread you leave on the counter too long. Not so much my life, but my look. I've grown increasingly lax with my high quality God given hotness. It's cooled down considerably. And I have to do something about it. IMMEDIATELY
I used to be very much a "I need to go to MAC a minimum of once a month or my life might end" kinda gal. That just kinda died with the recession. I also used to be a "I have 1500 wigs and you don't know which woman you might wake up to" kinda gal. Not anymore.....I actually bore the hell outta myself now. So I'm contemplating a new Valecia. Hell I'm almost 30 and I need my hotness to carry over in a way that dynamic, and everchanging....like Rhianna but no mohawks and wearable. I don't know what happened. Maybe it was being in a relationship and waking up to someone seeing me in my scarf and makeup free that made me think slouchiness was acceptable...well back on game plan...new looks will be coming soon.

"She even wear her hair down her back like mine"

Don't get it twisted I love my baby to bits and pieces. My E.B. (Estranged Boyfriend) as I affectionately call him loves me too (I guess), but there's one thing we don't agree on. My love of wigs and weaves and no matter how hard I try to go without them for the sake of a happy home I can't. I just can't. I love me and I think I'm by far one of the coolest chicks on the planet, but I'm not as pretty without long hair. Yeah. That's a fucked up thing to say, but it's true. It's my truth.

"You make sure your hair looks pretty. Always have presentable hair. It's one thing to be fat, another to be black, but NEVER be fat, black, and bald-headed."

Those words came from the mouth of my mom when I was five. I will remember them for the rest of my life. I'm already a chubster. Even when I lose weight I will be happy at 175-180, and at my height (5'4") that will Still make me a chubster so fat is basically my life. I'm a dark ass girl. I'm ok with that. Ain't a bleaching cream in the world gonna change it. Nor do I want to change it. I'm a dark chocolate princess. A plus-size barbie. I'm a diva. A Bad Bitch, but not so much when I look like this.

or

I have NOTHING in common with the above two girls. They look like me, but yet just an uglier version of myself.

Call it a warped sense of self-esteem if you want, but it's all apart of a look. And I know exactly what look works for me. I do what I must to make myself feel beautiful. Maybe he feels I am beautiful without it, but I have learned over the years you can't change things about you for someone else's happiness. Even though it's nice to have other's love you. I like the love I have for myself a hell of a lot more. I like to get ready for work, look in the mirror, and know that when I get on the bus all the perverted men will be looking at me, because I'm THAT damn well put together! And I don't feel that way when it comes to the hair that grows out of my head. Sorry!

This girl is me....synthetic half-wig happiness and all
So do what makes you happy...Wayne said, "She even wear her hair down her back like mine". But he didn't say shyt about how she got it! LOL