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Day 3 – We Need a Plan

January 16, 2012

Sorry Soul. Got tired. Was watching America’s Next Top Model season 76 or whatever, then me and my BBM (Blackberry Messenger) group got to chatting and discussin’ – the topic:

‘Why Men Don’t Respect Women Who Agree To Be Their Eff Buddies…’

And as you can predict, it got heated! This BBM Group formed by some random, is called: BLACK FOLKS WITH BRAINS …which is not entirely true when you read some of the comments people make…but shan’t go into that right now.   So after over-debating with one of the more arrogant male members of the group $£Play3R On3$£ (No I don’t know what the hell either ) …anyway after frowning at my BB so hard I fell asleep… and now it’s another day…

So where was I? Okay yeah, my friends…So I told you about ‘The Girls’ and as for ‘The Boys’,

Chris’ girlfriend deleted all our numbers out of his phone! Nuff Said. And…David…

…well David, is in career limbo whilst he builds his drug empire. Which was all fun and games when we were teens (don’t judge me). Me and The Girls used to sit in David’s bedroom and help him count money and bag weed like we were his drug bitches. But that was back in the ’90s, college, raving, spliffs and sex was our agenda,  we had no vision, we had no plans, but then one day we grew up…yet David wont. What’s EVEN  more agitating is that David’s way brainy and clued up and hates what  he does but is trapped and confused, but not cos he knows…SIGH.

So It’s hard to speak to David like how I used to back in the day, cos I nag, and he like every man on earth hates being nagged, so we argue,  so to avoid the arguments I fake speak to David in a pretend happy 10 octaves higher than my own voice, voice, like:   ‘hiiiii is everything okaaaaaaaaaay, reaaaaaaaaaalllyyyyyy, wooowww!!’  When what I really want to say in my normal womanly sexy husky voice, is: ‘Would you stop selling effing drugs, and do something with your life, you embarrassing statistic increasing detriment to the race!’

David  also bought me a pair of Moschino jeans because my mum was: ‘NOT GOING TO SPEND £100.00 ON A PAIR OF DAMN JEANS WHEN MARKS AND SPENCERS SELLS THE SAME THING FOR £15!!’  Soul,  M&S jeans were very definitely not the same, but you couldn’t really explain to my all African Mother how important Moschino and Versace  and basically name-brands in general were back in ‘94.

So instead of putting on the fake smiley scary lady voice, I don’t phone David either, who really is my best male friend ever. Who gives me the best advice ever when it comes to men, even though I constantly don’t listen. Cos how could he know what men really wanted from a woman, when he’s not a woman? This why I need you Soul and not a Gratitude Journal, cos I have no one to talk to and as I’ve not so briefly explained I’ve got absolutely NOTHING, to be grateful for. My life SUCKS.

I think I could do with counselling or something, but ‘we’ don’t do that type of thing…even though Aunty Oprah has long given the okay for black women to seek help, which I do think, in light of things…some of us really should, not cos we’re all crazy nut-nuts,  but we sure do have a lot to deal with. YES SOUL it is more than any other women of the whole world! THAT IS AN OFFICIAL EBONY FACT.

But after I turn off Aunty Oprah (Thank Diva Channel for the re-runs because I’m still not ready to say ’25 Years’ *Paul Simon voice*)

…and start Googling for a counsellor…I pause and think hmmm…so really? Do I REALLY need to pay someone to tell me that I have low self esteem…

And that’s usually when I start to shut down, and look for something else to watch, or pretend to watch whilst my mind races. Cos really there’s no time. WHY? Because by the time I’m 37 and a half Soul, my Gratitude Journal needs to be filled to bursting with a happier me being grateful for my HUSBAND, my BIG house, my FAMILY Jeep, my CHILD and inside my belly TWINS due in November so they have calm Scorpio souls like their mother and father and Ihave a JOB that pays more than I need.

I need help Soul!

Good-night.

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From → The Soul Pages

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