I am a sexy, vibrant 38.y.o. tigress caught in a 9 y.o. girl's psyche. I go from a thundering "I am woman, hear me roar," to a whining & whimpering "Mom, what should I do?" Pathetic? You bet it is! Nauseating? Just like taking 11 jello shots & then chasin' it with 2 chilli dogs & a lukewarm can of Natural Light (outwardly shuddering). Why do I allow her to have so much control over my decisions & dilemmas? Now I know how Akon felt when he kept croonin':
"They won't let me out..they won't let me out..I'm locked up!"
It was one of those lazy, laid back, kids-are-in-school kind of days. My mom & I were casually chillin' & conversatin' about my current choice of..shall we say..chocolate. She thought that my sweetmeat of the week was a military master named Jeff. Welllllllllllll...no. At this point, the best course of action would've been to zip it (my mouth), lock it, & put it into my pocket, but not me. I sometimes talk so much, it's as if my mouth is runnin' on a treadmill.
I cheerfully informed her that there was someone else that was occupying the corners of my mind. Once she guessed who it was, things took a seismatic shift in the crust of our interconnection. She ranted & raged about how I was making a dastardly decision. My mamacita pressed and pleaded about how my new boo boo & I would probably end up having our own Shakesperian tragedy rivaling that of Bobby & Whitney.
Honestly Mom. Does just about every convo between us have to turn into our own personal daytime drama? Sigh. With each word that is being exchanged, it is becoming clearer & clearer that she doesn't know as much about me as she thinks she does. This is the type of stallion my matriarch would like to see me lasso in:
Mmm. As tempting and tasty as this tender morsel might seem, I think I'll pass. This might normally be the type that would grab my attention:
My current companion is actually a tall glass of gentleman with a side twist of thugliciousness. My momma just can't seem to wrap her mind around this mind-boggling concept. How could her precious progeny possibly be linked up with this imposing image of muscle mass & endless rivers of indigo ink sprayed & tatted all over his canvas? Yes, yes I know. My madre only wants me to have top shelf like the Hill Harpers & the Cornel West's of the world. BREAKING NEWS FLASH: IT MORE THAN LIKELY WILL NEVER HAPPEN.
More than anything I wish that she understood that my choices involving men are not a personal body slam to her intellect or integrity. It's simply about a matter of..choice and preference. I often pray that my decision does not put a wedge in between the door of our special alliance. Yet I realize that I am no longer a child who needs to actively seek her mommy's applause & approval. If I could adaquately explain this to her in song & verse here's what I would say:
I'm sorry Momma
I never meant to hurt you
I never meant to make you cry
But tonite I'm cleanin' out my closet
Eminem "Cleanin' Out My Closet" lyrics
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