Just Pretty?

Break out the coffee, this is your morning reading for the
day...lol...it'll be a long one...

Growing up a chunky chickadee, I was always uncertain about my beauty.
This was an age before Mo'nique telling us that skinny bitches are evil
or Toccara telling us that she would be the first plus-size supermodel.
This was an age where my relatives would feed me friend chicken, mac n
cheese, collard greens, and yams for LUNCH and then scold me by saying I
was always "big as a house" and that I would be so much prettier if I
lost weight.

I made sure I was smart, if not pretty. I was in all honors/AP courses
in school and in the top 10% of my class.

I didn't think I was pretty until I was 16 years old. I had been
involved in a grassroots movement for racial equality. Yes, these relics
of the Black Panther Party still exist and I was a dutiful member. I
learned about black history for the first time in a long time. There
were documentaries, news artcles, movies, a whole world of blackness
that went beyond my aunt's kitchen, the hot comb, learning Swahili in
elementary school, and Martin Luther King.

I chopped off all of my permed hair, sported a mean 'fro, and started
dressing differently. It was a confidence I had not yet known before.
The beauty I found was based on what I truly began to see in the mirror.
I was faced with some hefty opposition. My boyfriend of 3 years said
that he couldn't date a woman with natural hair. My mom said that
everyone would laugh at me. I should save myself the embarrassment.

But for the first time, I really could care less. I stopped eating meat.
I played sports. I felt great.

>>>> FFWD>>>

I started competing in balls/beauty competitions. The person I used to
be is inconsequential, but my confidence wanes from time to time because
of those past memories.

Needless to say, I have a brain. I have a "broad sense of humor" as LH
puts it. I have an opinion about everything. If it's something I haven't
heard about, I will research it and form an opinion on it.

RecentGuy after 2 weeks of "talking" almost all day with our thumbs
(sidekick), when asked what he thought of me, said, "You're so pretty."

I was floored.

"That's it?"

"You have a nice body, too"

I was in the basement.

And eloquently told him that if that's all he had to say he had missed
the point, wasted my time, and I no longer was interested in him. He was
floored. He called me "frigid."

He was indignant.

And now he's history.