Flaws and all

I AM VAIN.

I’ve always thought I was a sexy mami. I spend hours primping in front of the mirror. Meticulously styling each strand of hair and perfectly applying just the right amount of liner to compliment my brown eyes. I pride myself on my smooth skin. No blemishes or bumps for me. My face was as clear as the air. Any minuscule imperfection would be hurriedly covered until further notice of its disappearance. I love my face. I love the way it looks.

I often find myself passing time by just watching myself make faces in the mirror. 3 smiles, a pouty look…a sultry look and a cute one. I’ve mastered them all.

It’s because I’m vain.

I didn’t realize it though. I’ve always been a compliment whore. Hoping someone notices the things I notice about myself and praise me for it. I’d always respond with a timid “thanks”. Probably giving off the impression that I never thought I was attractive. But it’s quite the opposite.

I know I’m the shiznit!

I should be ashamed. I am really. But I don’t think I’ll change.



I AM DEPENDENT.

I never thought of myself this way. I’ve always seen myself as an independent chick. Not asking for help from anyone. Always striving to meet my own needs. I was the one always figuring out ways to help others…not the other way around. I guess for those reasons, I saw myself as independent. But I’m not. What I was describing is just financial independence…and really, I’m not that. I’m dependent on my job so there you go.

The more I thought about independence, the more I realized how needy I am emotionally. I am totally dependent on relationships. If I were Tom Hanks on Cast Away, I probably would have killed myself before month’s end. I love my “me” time and have no problem chillin all by myself. In fact, I often think of myself as a loner. But truth is, after a few days of that…I’m ready for some human interaction. I get tired of laughing at my own jokes. And the only thing I learn from myself, is more stuff about me. I need people. I’m dependent on it. Partly because I’m vain and I’d be sad if no one saw how cute I was. (j/k. Well not really. lol) But mostly it’s because I am dependent. I have the most fun with others, I learn more with others, conversations are always better with others (as opposed to talking to myself), I crave hugs and kisses from others. Life is just better with others. I’m dependent. What can I say.



I AM IN LOVE.

I didn’t think I’d fall in love with Usher but somehow he crept into my heart and stole every inch piece by piece. What started off for me as something to do with my spare time with someone I wasn’t really interested in, has turned into a 2 year relationship that I never want end. I love him. And it scares me. Being in love can make you vulnerable to someone else. I’m a leo. I want to be the only one in control of me. Yet…I find myself completely at his emotional mercy. Knowing that my relationship happiness is in his hands to either nurture or destroy is too much for me to handle sometimes. And as much as I try to be independent and guard my heart while keeping in mind that it all could (and has) end(ed) in a split second, I still know deep in my heart that he got me. I hate that. Yet…I can’t stop loving him. I can’t hide the way I feel. I AM …in love.


I AM BIG.

I should have known this. But I didn’t. I guess because I’m so vain, I may not see myself in the same light as others. I’m a size 12…well…14 sometimes if the tops aren’t stretchy. And I’ve been “this size” for quite sometime now. I’ve dropped as low as a 10 and as high as a 16 before…but usually, I’m a 12/14. Never though, did I consider myself a big girl.
Why you ask?

I dunno. Just didn’t. I look normal to me. The only reason I know now that I must be a big girl is because everytime I look at my friends request on Myspace, some variety of the “Big Beautiful Black Women” group always ask for me to be apart of their group.

*going to a mirror* I’m not that big am I?

Well everyone can’t be wrong. So I guess I should accept it.

*edit* Okay I’ve finally figured out why I never knew that I was big. I’ve found out from other sources that I have…

A SKINNY MIRROR.

Yup. Who’d a thunk it? I’ve had a few women over my house and they are all drawn to my mirror. Every last one of them have commented on how much they love my mirror because it makes them look skinny.

“For real?” I’d say. I had no idea. So apparently, I’ve been looking at a smaller version of myself. No wonder I’m always shocked when I see my pictures. lol *shrug*



I AM A CLEO.

No not in the “Call me now for a psychic reading!” sense. See, I was born at the end of July which means that my astrological sign is LEO. But I was late. If I was born when I was supposed to be born, I’d be a CANCER…hence CLEO (cancer/leo) .
I’m not sure how that works seeing how the characteristics of the LEO and the CANCER are on different sides of the spectrum. Maybe that’s why I’m so random. I really am both signs…although most people can only see one or the other in me. My entire life I’ve been more “Cancer-ish” but with every passing day, that Leo roar is starting to emerge. I think the only common bond these signs have is that they are both fairly benevolent. I just find it crazy that I can readily relate to both signs. Just felt like sharing.



I AM ADDICTED TO JAS.ON C.ASTRO.

Okay… how incredibly LAME must I be to actually watch American Idol still. I mean the show is only good at the beginning when the folks come make a complete fool out of themselves. Yet…since the first cycle, I’ve found myself tuning in as everyone either praise or bash Simon in his baby gap tee’s about how right or rude his comments are…and of course I try to figure out why Paula claps like a sped. No offense to the Speds. But her clap is amazingly akward. I can't figure out for the life of me why she looks so crazy clapping. Anyways.. I digress.

Why am I watching this crap, you ask? Because I have a crush on J.ason Castr.o.

JC. Wow. Where have you been all these years? I swear he makes my palms sweaty every Tuesday night. Does he not realize what he does to me? Those beautiful sparkly eyes...those dreads…that “Cody from Step By Step” dumb look he does when he speaks. Ooooh. He got me. Nevermind he’s 8 or so years younger than I am. He’s legal. I’ve never been with a Colombian man before (at least I think he’s Colombian) but he makes me wanna try it. He could definitely give me the business. lol Okay, lemme stop. *whew* But yeah...this sensual singing star is the reason I’ve been glued to my sofa watching AI. I think he’s a weird guy and his laid back style can be annoying sometimes, but I can sooo overlook that. He is a beautiful man…err boy. And I’m a sucker for a guitar player. I think I might even be a groupie for him. What a shame. lol I hope that he isn’t sent packing tonight. *crossing fingers*



I AM JEALOUS.

I get a call last night from Usher.
“Guess what?” He said all amused.
“What?” I questioned. He sounded as if he was bursting to tell someone some juicy gossip.

“ I just got a call from my ex-wife today. She’s pregnant.”

I couldn’t think of anything else to say but, “Whoa.”

I had so many emotions running through my body. Ya’ll know what happened between TG and I, and I’ve always been nervous about that same thing happening between me and Usher. Well for me, this happily put to rest the whole “what if he goes back to his ex” worry. Not to say that I’ll never worry about it again, but the probability that he'll leave me for her now that she's going to have another man’s child is a lot less. I know how he feels about that.

“How do you feel about that?” I asked anyways.

“Sheeeeit, you know me. I was done already anyways. This just sealed the deal. I don’t know why she telling me. I’m not gonna help her take care of another man’s child. And get this, they ain’t even together no mo’.” He sounded pleased.

I know his ex hurt him. She left him. And instead of forgiving her and moving on, he’s all about watching her get “what she deserves”. It bothers me because to me, if you’re still that angry, it may be because you still have strong feelings. He’s assured me that no matter what, his days with the ex were over when he left Kentucky 3 years ago. I believe him, but there’s always that doubt in the back of my mind.

This news, however, made me happy. I know it shouldn’t have, but it did. I was happy to know that she was pregnant with someone elses child. But then I became kind of jealous. This crackhead is going to have 2 children and I have yet to have any? How is that fair? I want children. I want a husband too. She just threw hers away. I began to think of all the things this lady has had in her life and decided she didn’t want and it made me upset to think that these are the very things I’ve waited my entire adult life for.

I became instantly ashamed that I was jealous of a crackhead. A woman who is about to have a child with a man she’s no longer with. A woman who is in such a bad predicament that her best idea was to call her ex-husband whom she left and ask for his help, knowing how he is and what he’d probably say…but it was her last hope. I’m so ashamed that with everything I do have, I was jealous of the two things she has that I don’t. Sometimes, I am a mess. A crazy, ungrateful mess.



I AM NOT PERFECT.

My entire life has been one big lie. I don’t really know how it all began. I was a good child. Precocious and cute. I was good at almost everything. Singing, dancing, and sports…piano, school, and speeches. I was the prototype for children everywhere. Obedient to my parents. Good with other children. Teachers loved me. I was perfect. So I thought.

My mom did nothing to discourage my perfect perception. In fact, she nurtured it. Eventually, she became the reason I felt the need to be perfect. She would always tell me how happy she was to have such a good child. She'd boast to her friends and family about me. She'd set up the expectations and I'd always deliver. I'm sure it made people sick to their stomach to see how "perfect" I was. Secretly, I know they were hoping I'd fall, or fail, or lose, or be tacky, or miss, or something. I was unnaturally...perfect.

As I got older, it became harder and harder to keep the standard that was previously set. I had to try harder to be the person everyone expected me to be. My reputation often preceded me. “Oooh that’s Lynette’s chile, she’s so *insert any good thing here*”. And to make my parents proud and to keep that perception of me going, I’d try my hardest to be the best at whatever it was I needed to be the best at.

But like every human, I started making mistakes. Getting involved with boys and letting my grades slip. My mom was so disappointed. I got whipped for bringing home a C in high school. She told me that she wished Kelly was her daughter instead of me. Kelly was one of my best friends. Smart. Very smart. Straight A’s. She just graduated from Harvard Law last year by the way. Anywho, I was hurt that she would say something like that to me. After years of trying to be this perfect child for her, I make one mistake and now she doesn't want me? It stung. That day should have been the day I stopped trying, but ironically, it made me want to try even harder. The disappointment in my mother’s eyes hurt me so much that I vowed to never disappoint her again.

I haven’t.

Not to her face at least. It was easier to live the lie of perfection than to admit to her that I’m not. I couldn’t bear to let her, or anyone see the side of me that was flawed. The part of me that was mean and moody. That was unsure and questioning. That was tired and disappointed. The part who had pre-marital sex, and skipped classes. The part that cursed, and went clubbing. The part that had been cheated on and who lost a dance off. That person was a vampire. Only accustomed to the dark. She was brushed into a closet with the rest of the skeletons. In her place was a lying but polished wall. Graceful, sharp, and mechanical. I knew to smile when people were around. I was polite, respectful, and engaging to all. Always fun. Always happy. Always on point. Never letting anyone see me less than perfect. I hid it all. I became so good that sometimes I hid it from myself.

But I kept making more mistakes. Years went by before one of my boyfriends finally told me, “Sway, you’re not perfect. You’re not doing anyone any good by pretending to be.”


Of course he was right, but I couldn't just instantly undo something that has had such a hold over me for my entire life. How do I tell my loving parents that I am not the person they've known since birth? How do I let people see all of me after years of lying, and hiding, and sweeping those bad parts away?

Day by day I guess.

Yeah those thoughts overtake my mind, willing me to make people believe that I’m perfect. The need to please my mom...people and their high expectations of me... it's hard to stop sometimes.

But I know I just have to re-train myself and realize that it's okay for others to see my flaws. Admitting to my mom and myself that I do have them. She has put me on a pedestal for so long that others believe it. Heck I believed it and lived my life trying to stay there. But slowly, I’ve begun to come down off it, step by step.

I am not perfect.
And it’s okay that others know.

This is who I am.
A big, vain, dependent, jealous, imperfect, cleo. Who happens to be addicted to a white boy with dreads and who's in love with a man who doesn’t know if he’s coming or going.
Take it or leave it.
This is me. Flaws and all.