February 2003 Archives

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"So now what?" I sat up when I asked it so I could look him in his eyes.

"You have any candles?"

I smirked. "Why?"

"Because the big light is too bright and the television isn't exactly mood light. Can you light a candle and some incense?"

I shrugged and left the room to gather the requested items. When I returned he had turned back the comforter and taken off his shirt. He was wearing a wifebeater underneath. The television was off and he'd managed to turn on my Jill Scott cd.

"Okay playboy, just what type of mood are you trying to set?"

"Little late to be askin' that dontchu think? I mean, you already got the candles and incense. "

He lit the last of the blunts and passed me the lighter. I lit the candles and the incense and sat next to him on the bed. He passed me the blunt and started rubbing my feet. I squirmed and giggled because I'm ticklish and that made him want to do it even more. He finally stopped when it was his turn to hit the blunt again and he resumed rubbing my feet when he passed it.

"Monique."

"Hm?" I blew my smoke in his face.

"You scared?"

"Of what?"

He thought about it for a minute. The blunt sent him into a hacking fit and it took him a few moments to recover. He snuffed it out in the ashtray and stared at me.

"Are you scared of us hooking up and fucking around."

It was my turn to get silent. I didn't know how to take that. I always have to analyze things that are being said to me. Whether that is the woman in me or the cynic I can't be sure, but I never accept things at face value.

"What do you mean fucking around?"

"It can mean whatever you want it to mean. You know me. You know how I am. I'm not the relationship type. We can kick it and be cool. You know I'll break you off and show you a good time. But you can't be getting all emotional. I can't take that."

"At least you're honest."

"Gotta be. Can't be a playa this long and be caught up in the game."

"Whatever negro. Anyway, why should I be scared of fucking around?"

"I'm just wondering if you are. If it was any other female, we'd probably have fucked by now. But you been holdin' out."

"Oh, I've been holding out huh?"

"I'm just saying. You always at the spot. We could have been done something."

"Okay, one place you can count on never getting any ass from me is at the spot."

"At least you didn't say I won't ever get the ass."

He winked at me then. All I could do was grin. He wrestled me down to the bed and pinned my hands.

"So you ready now?" He started kissing my neck.

"Am I ready for what?"

"To give me my prize."

"Your prize?"

"Yeah. I mean, I finally broke you down."

"Dang. Just when you might have talked yourself up on the pussy, you just talked your ass right back out of it."

He laughed at that. "I'll get it eventually. It doesn't have to be tonight."

"How are you so sure we should do it? I mean, we're supposed to be friends. If one of us catches an attitude, then that is going to fuck everything up."

"Why would there be room for anyone to catch an attitude? We are establishing the rules up front. You do what you do and I do what I do. Friends with benefits. Sometimes we kick it and smoke a blunt, sometimes we kick it and I scratch that itch for you. Go with the flow. You know what I'm saying?"

He punctuated this by biting my nipple through my shirt. I laughed.

"Pusha, you're a trip."

"You like it though."

"Yeah, I do, but I don't know if it's enough for us to just start getting down together. I like you as my friend. Sex tends to confuse things. I just don't want to risk ruining a really good friendship over a roll in the hay."

"You scared."

"What am I scared of?"

"You are scared you are going to get sprung on the d-i-c-k." He laughed when he said it and I punched him in the arm.

"Yeah right. I haven't met the dick yet that had me on sprung."

"Yeah rght. That nigga you be runnin' back and forth to Cali to see."

I looked at him in surprise.

"You didn't think I knew? Baby girl, ain't that much visiting your granny in the world. I knew it had to be some nigga out there you was running back and forth to see."

"Well, whatever. You have females too."

"That's what I'm saying. You do your thing and I'll do mine and we will practice the don't ask don't tell policy."

I thought about it. Friends with benefits, homey-lover-friends, fuck buddies - no matter what you called it, it spelled trouble. I looked at Pusha. He was rubbing my breasts and staring back at me which was making the whole thinking process a little difficult. And anyway, if it feels good you are supposed to go for it right?

"Let me sleep on it."

"Gladly," he said and started to unzip his pants.

"Don't be an asshole," I laughed.

"Don't be scared," he said and planted a kiss on my lips.

"Okay, I won't be scared."

"Good, you have no reason to be."

He lay on the bed beside me and pulled me closer to him. He continued to rub my breasts and I continued to be put under a spell that only the promise of new sex can put on you.

"Still," I began.

"Hmm?" He mumbled it into my neck and continued planting kisses there.

"it's too built up for us to do it tonight. I still think we should wait."

"Wait for what?"

"For it to happen naturally I guess."

"It's happening naturally right now."

"No, you're building it up because your dick is hard and your horny."

"Don't get much more natural than that."

I laughed. "Come on, just lie beside me and cuddle."

He gave me a look but did as I asked. We lay spooned all night, talking about any and everything. When we finally fell asleep it was peaceful and comfortable. Through the night I would wake up and grin because he was lying next to me. I had sweet dreams that I don't remember.

He woke me up the next morning with his tongue.

He took his time in there. I sat on the edge of my bed and listened to him pee, wash his hands, open my medicine cabinet (with the water still running mind you) and peek in my tub. When he finally emerged, he came into my room without hesitation.

"For such a big house, your room is kinda small."

I shrugged my shoulders.

"It's big enough for me."

He walked over to my closet and slid the door open. He took one look inside then looked at me, shaking his head.

"You think you have enough shit in there?"

"Do you think you're being nosy enough?"

"I'm just checking your spot out. You weren't going to give me the tour?"

"I really wasn't expecting you to come in and pee."

He laughed at that and continued looking around my room.

"Got the PS2 hooked up, the digital cable. Monique, what you be doin' in here?"

"Sleeping?"

"That's it?"

I gave him a look. He laughed it off and walked down the hallway peeking his head in the other rooms. I followed behind him like I was the tourist. He inspected everything down to the fabric in the sofa and loveseat. When he reached the kitchen, he ran immediately to the refrigerator.

"Ooh, side by side! Whatchu got in here to grub on?"

"You can't possibly be hungry, right?"

"Nah, but after I blow this blunt with you, we might have the munchies."

I laughed at him.

"That was slick."

"I ain't tryin' to be slick. "

"Oh no?"

"Nope. Just trying to get you right for the night."

He winked at me and hit me on the nose with a cigar that he pulled from his shirt pocket. Before I could say another word he was heading back towards my bedroom.

"Uh," I called out to him. I heard him sit on my bed. I walked down the hall and stood in the doorway. "What are you doing?"

"Getting ready to roll the blunt."

"Get off my bed."

"Okay." He slid off the foot of my bed and onto the floor in front of my television. "Can you pass me the remote?"

'How can you be this nervy?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean coming in here, getting all comfortable, rolling a blunt, all uninvited."

He snatched the remote, which I had picked up, out of my hand and turned my television on.

"Can you pass me a bag?"

I handed him my trashcan. He found a channel he wanted to watch and put the remote down. He began making the preparations, grabbing the cover to GTA: Vice City and balancing it on his lap so he could break up the buds. I stood over him, glowering.

"What, you got your mad face on? Quit being so mean and sit down."

"Whatever Pusha."

I sat on the floor next to him. He made idle chatter as he rolled three blunts and I flicked on the PS2 and started playing GTA:Vice City. In between hits of the blunt and him coaching me through missions (he had to do the helicopter mission for me) I relaxed and got a little more comfortable with his presence in my bedroom. He slapped my thigh with his hand rather loudly and grinned at me.

"You chillin' now?"

"Yeah, I guess. I still can't believe how nervy you are."

"Nervy?"

"Yeah. Just invite yourself into my bedroom with your chronic blunts and machismo like you belong here."

He laughed. "You didn't want me to leave."

"What makes you say that?"

"If you really did, you would have asked me to leave by now."

I didn't say anything in response. I continued to play GTA:Vice City as if nothing else was going on. Pusha got up, took off his shoes and made himself comfortable on my bed.

"You're sitting on my bright yellow comforter."

"My clothes are clean. Come up here and sit with me."

"Whatever you are after you surely aren't getting."

"Who said I was after something? We're just kicking it right? Come up here and hit the blunt."

I turned the PS2 off and joined him on the bed. He handed me the blunt and as I hit it he began massaging my neck and shoulders.

"Damn, you're tense. You need something to help you relax."

I waved the blunt in his face. "This will do me just fine."

"Monique, why you playin' so hard to get?"

"I'm not playing anything."

"Yes you are. Just relax. I'm not trying anything, I'm not doing anything, I'm just sitting here enjoying your company. You need to sit here and enjoy mine."

The massage was starting to relax me. I leaned back against him a little bit and began flicking channels on the television. We found a movie that had just started and looked a little interesting so we started watching it. All the while his hands were rubbing and kneading my shoulders and neck. I lay on my stomach with the pillow propped up under my chin and enjoyed the massage and the movie.

Two hours later the movie was over and we lay snuggled together on my bed, his arm around my waist.

"The movie is over," I said and rolled over onto my back so I could look at him. "Are you leaving?"

"Do you want me to leave?"

I hesitated. If I let him stay would it lead to things we weren't ready for yet? I was confused and I tried to sort it all out in my head but nothing was making sense. It was all happening too fast. He lay on his back and pulled me over to him. I rested my head on his chest and listened to his heart beat. It was beating as fast as mine. I squeezed him a little bit and he squeezed me right back. I leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

"I'll take that as a no," he said and leaned over to turn off the light.

Slim and Colette were cuddled up on the couch kissing like white people on soap operas. His hand was on the back of her head and she was using hers to cradle his face. Her legs were wrapped around his waist and I was sure that any minute now they were going to start pulling off clothes. I looked over at Pusha who was trying not to stare but just couldn't help it. It was Tiny who broke it up by yelling across the room.

"Ay, Slim, man. Get a room."

This elicited snickers from Slim who had finally decided to let Colette breathe on her own.She was still sitting with her legs wrapped around his waist (in a skirt no less). She wasn't even being discreet about it or trying to cover her cocked open legs.

"Don't hate cause you ain't getting none," Slim said with a grin on his face.

"Ain't nobody hatin', but ain't nobody interested in watching no flicks either," Tiny retorted.

Pusha nudged me during this exchange. "Come ride with me real quick. I have to make a run."

It beat sitting there watching Colette and Slim. Slim had returned to giving her a tonsillectomy with his tongue. She looked like she was definitely ready for a long night. I gathered up my things and followed him out to the Monte Carlo.

"Where are we going?"

"Are you hungry?"

I nodded.

"What do you have a taste for? Don't say nothin crazy like sushi."

I laughed. "How about M & M? Soul Food."

He agreed and we went. I had the fried pork chops (thick ones that were so good I could only eat one) with greens (they aight. i'm partial to my mama's), macaroni and cheese (actually pretty good) and sweet potatoes (couldn't eat that much, lots of butter in their recipe). He had the smothered pork chops (eww, dark brown gravy) with mashed potatoes, greens and macaroni and cheese.

Over dinner we talked about sports, politics, Vegas and music. We cheesed and grinned and got warm and fuzzy from the cognac. We told secrets and laughed at jokes only we would understand. When we were stuffed and had doggie bags that weighed five pounds each, he told me it was late and he should take me home.

"My jacket is in Tiny's car."

"I'll get it and hold it for you."

"He was supposed to give me a sack."

"I'll give you some of what I have."

I ran out of objections. I gave him the directions to my house and we rode in silence the entire way. You could hear the wheels turning in both heads. When we got there, he pulled up in front and turned off the ignition. I sat looking at him and he nudged me.

"Get out."

"Dang boy, just putting me out of your car." We laughed and climbed out and he followed me to my front door. The porchlight was on but the inside lights were off. I unlocked the door, turned the light on in the foyer and turned to Pusha.

"Well, all right. Thanks for dinner and for bringing me home. I'm sure Tiny is passed out anyway so I would have had to cuss him out to get home."

"It's cool. You take it easy."

I stuck out my hand to give him our usual pound and he ignored it. He walked toward me and pulled me nto a hug. I think my body stiffened against him for a moment because I felt him stiffen too. So I relaxed. I let my hands go around his shoulders. His arms wrapped tightly around me and he held me for a long time. I could hear his breathing in my ear and feel his heart beating against my chest. I let him hold me a bit longer and then I let go. We pulled apart and I turned to go in my front door.

"Night, Monique."

"Night, Pusha," I said and closed the door.

I walked down the hallway, into my bedroom and sat on the bed. I could smell his cologne in my clothes. I got up and started to get undressed. My shirt was pulled halfway over my head when I heard the doorbell ring. Belt unbuckled, pants undone, I ran back to the front door to answer it. Through the window I saw Pusha. I opened the door.

"Hey," he said. "Can I use your bathroom?"

I've been hanging out. Some nights I've stayed out 7 in the morning. It's all good. I'm having a blast.

I feel like an asshole because I forgot Tee's birthday. Dearest Tee, I lub yew so much and would never intentionally forget such an enormous event as your birfday. Please forgive a nukka cause I ain't mean it. <3 <3 <3 <3

I rode the rollercoaster again today. Those bastards changed it so that you only get one ride for $8.00. It used to be two. Basically I spent 20 cents a second to be on that ride. More than a long distance phone call. Ugh.

My do got whipped today. Yvette hooks me up every single time. My scalp had been incredibly itchy recently and she gave me a treatment that made me feel like I had a brand new scalp. No more itching. I'm still feeling weird not scratching.

I have to do laundry tomorrow. It's going to be a quiet day. I need to rest up and prepare for the coming week.

What's up with your weekend?

I used to avoid mirrors. For various reasons I was insecure with myself and my body and did not feel comfortable looking at my own reflection for any amount of time. I never really paid attention to the fact that I avoided really looking at myself. I did not become fully cognizant of it until I noticed the amount of time I have been spending in the mirror as of late.

What started as me taking random snapshots of my reflection like some mirror project wannabe has evolved into me really studying me. I notice things that I never paid attention to before, like the moles on top of and just below my left breast, the small beauty marks on my right arm and the smooth, caramel color of my skin.

I used to hide in crowds, always seeking solace in other people, places and things. The more distractions I had around me, the more comfortable I felt. I wanted a sense of peace and I searched to find it, never realizing that the one place I could truly have peace and feel comfortable was in my own skin.

I want to start a cycle of change.

I will start with the girl in the mirror.

breakfast is your friend
I have learned that breakfast is one of the most important parts of my day. I used to skip out every morning without it and survive on coffee until around 11am when we ordered food at the office. I was feeling sluggish all the time in spite of the large amounts of caffeine I was intaking. I also tended to eat more later in the day to compensate for the missed meal.

I've been getting up every single morning and eating a healthy breakfast. Sometimes I eat a bowl of Cheerios and other times I might cook oatmeal. I've started to relish that part of the day when I have those 30 minutes to myself. I sit and eat slowly, thinking about what I'm going to do for the day. I try to center myself to tackle whatever comes my way. I find that I am more balanced during the day when I've eaten breakfast before leaving home.

Eating breakfast keeps you thin.

Researchers from the National Weight Control Registry, a database of more than 3,000 people who have lost at least 60 pounds and kept it off for an average of 6 years, found that eating breakfast every day was a weight control strategy for 78% of the people in the registry. People who kept off weight long-term also reported eating a low-fat diet and exercising for an hour or more each day.
- Mr Breakfast - "Why Eat Breakfast"

The other side effect that I am enjoying is eating less. I am not as hungry during the day. I've opted out of the ordering lunch process at work and have begun taking my own food from home in order to eat healthier. I find that I am bringing home about 50% of what I carry in my lunch bag. I usually take one fruit, a yogurt, a tub of baby carrots (I freaking love carrots but I need to dedicate an entry to them all of their own), sugar-free applesauce, sugar-free Jello (the applesauce and Jello are for those sweet tooth cravings) and a granola bar. Once I eat all of those carrots, my stomach is sitting so full that I don't get a craving for anything else.

We generally eat dinner around 5 o'clock and if I crave a snack later I go for it with something healthy and sugar-free. My habit of snacking on sugary sweets is gone. I don't even crave them anymore. Those first few weeks of knowing I had high sugar were pure torture. I would walk past the bakery aisle in the grocery store and want to go insane. I don't even notice it anymore. It's like a part of the store that I don't need or care about. The only vice I have is the coffee.

lord please don't make me give up coffee!
I got my coffee maker for Christmas 2001. It has an automatic setting to start grinding my beans and brewing my coffee at 6am every morning. I love waking up to the sound and smell of coffee getting started. I love coffee. I went to Starbucks and bought some of their sugar-free vanilla syrup and mocha powder to add to my coffee each day. It tastes wonderful and it has no calories. This from a girl who would order a Venti Quad Nonfat Vanilla Latte every single morning on her way to work. I think the biggest part of my weight loss has been due to the fact that sugar is almost non-existant in my diet. I've managed to cut down some on my caffeine consumption. I generally drink one cup at home and then take one cup for the road. Both are 16oz cups. You do the math. I was drinking an entire pot before.

I'm learning to take better care of myself and my diabetes. It wasn't as hard of a transition as I thought. I'm still allowed some amount of sugar, just not as much as before. I usually save it for the weekend when I know I'll be going out. The next step? Getting a regular exercise plan.

so i started going to the gym
And let me tell you, that first day I know I looked pathetic out there on that bike. I was sweating in buckets and having a hard time keeping it going for the entire time I set it for, but I did it. When I got off the bike I felt that "runner's high" everyone talks about and my heart was racing. It felt good. I've enlisted the help of a personal trainer. Standing on that scale and finding out I lost 15 pounds in one month was a huge boost, but I still have a long way to go. I've set small, attainable goals for myself and my outlook is realistic. I won't ever have the body I had when I was 18 or 19 years old, but I will be in shape. I'm not in a rush.

All in time baby, all in time.

i've started reading again
I just finished reading "The Coldest Winter Ever" by Sister Souljah. I finished it in one day; it was an exciting page-turner. The main character, Winter, reminds me of a few around the way girls I know.

I agree with much of Sean Elder's opinion of the book.

The first part plays like a protracted rap video: Everything is fly and phat, Winter's father spares his wife and daughters no luxury, and nothing is generic. Versace, Courvoisier, Chanel, Mo봠-- there are enough brand names to make Bret Easton Ellis proud. (Even her twin sisters are named Mercedes and Lexus.) But then the whip comes down in the form of young and hungry competitors and RICO-empowered federal agents. Winter's father goes to jail, and her survival becomes the story. Then Sister Souljah herself turns up.

Winter's reaction the first time she hears Souljah speak is typical: "How is this bitch supposed to help the community when she don't know how to rock her shit? I checked her arm, no Rolex, not even a Timex, nothing. No weight on her neck, nothing. Her hairdo was phat but that don't mean nothing when you don't know how to accessorize." Before long, though, she's seeking refuge in the activist's house, where she comments with typical disdain on her host's art ("African titties everywhere and wooden mask carvings") and appearance ("She was a typical uptown girl: big ass, wide hips and, nope, not a flat belly"). But she remains deaf to the Sister's message of uplift. What Souljah does have going for her is men, and the injustice of it all is too much for Winter. Here some back-to-Africa, celibate, fat (not phat) sister act is getting all the action while Winter needs to steal to get by.

Winter is the book's most compelling character. I got tired of the constant self-references by Sister Souljah , no disrespect All in all it was a good book and I'm going to read it again before the weekend is over. Slower this time. I'm at home sick and have nothing else to do. Send soup?

increasing my reading list
While slacking off over at Salon, I came across this article about Bret Easton Ellis. It was an inspirational read on two different levels and now I have plans to make a few new book purchases before the week is over. I love a book review that encourages me to want to read more of an author's work and write better. I love a book that gets my creative juices flowing. Sometimes that muse is walking around in your clothing.

materialistic and label conscious
I notice that in all of the Bret Easton Ellis books-turned-into-movies I've seen, his characters are incredibly obsessed with labels and material possessions. In Coldest Winter, Winter is obsessed with labels and"things". I was having a conversation with my hairdresser last night about, among other things, material possessions and name-brand items. I have always imagined that I am not label conscious, but after reading this book I realized how much I really am. It's not so much that I have to have everything name-brand; it's just the big names are making everything that is cute!

I have never made a secret of my favorite hobby. I shop till I drop and then I get up and do it all over again. I was told two weeks ago by David that I was "high-maintenance" and "obsessed with being cute." Is there anything wrong with wanting to look my best and have the best? Why do we hate on people that do?

I feel like no one can take care of me better than I can take care of me, so I'm going to do the damn thing and fuck anyone who doesn't like it. My hustle is legal, my ends are taxed and I don't rob or steal from anyone to get what I want. Don't hate because you aren't able to keep yourself up in the manner in which you would like to; congratulate me because I am able. I spoil myself because I deserve it.

the new body consciousness
That said, I have to admit that I had to put a hold on the actual clothes buying. I spent a great deal of money in Lane Bryant last month and this month on cute outfits and I'm finding that some things I bought just a month ago are fitting a little too loose for my taste.

We've gotten really serious about the healthy eating/living thing in this household and since the beginning of the year I've lost 15 pounds. In my opinion, the loss is most noticeable around my mid-section. It's obviously noticeable somewhere because I have people asking me if I am losing weight on a daily basis and that is uber-cool all on its own. Negative body image is a mother fucker, but once you affirm to love yourself as you are and actually put that into work everyone else falls in love with you too.

but i still find stuff to shop for
Just because I'm losing weight doesn't mean I can't buy purses, shoes and make up. And that is just what I have been doing. Oh and cute things. Like these cute little notecards from the shoe store that have pictures of shoes on them and are called "mad about shoes". I've been writing letters on them and sending them to people. If you would like to receive a letter from me on my cute little notecards, email me with your address. Once I run out of the cute little shoe notecards, I'll use the other cute little notecards I have. How many times did I say cute little notecards in that sentence?

I think I should be banned from the MAC counter. In two weeks I've spent $200 on lipstick, make up brushes, eyeshadow, lipliner, blush and lipglass (how can you not love lipglass?). And perfume? Forget about it. I love to smell sweet. We went to the Alley in L.A. two weeks ago and I bought four bottles (two for me and two for ms stella) for $140. Not too shabby I say. Your girl will shop for a bargain. That's why I don't feel bad that some of that Lane Bryant stuff doesn't fit anymore. When you spend $350 and walk out with 12 new outfits, 2 bracelets, 5 pairs of earrings, a necklace, 2 leather belts and 15 pairs of pretty panties can you really complain? I didn't think so either.