AN OPEN INVITATION...

" Tell me what you eat, and I will tell you who you are" Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin

Today I quit life...

Let me say that again…I QUIT LIFE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Quit, checked out, sleep, not taking any messages- describe it how you want, just know that I am gone.

I seriously just can't anymore.

I'm over everything! Every-thing!

Here’s the deal, this morning my mood was so bad I could kick a puppy! Yes, a nice fluffy effin’ teeny itty witty puppy!!!!!

People,  I woke up this morning and said ...No. 

Simply, no.

But guess what world? There are no do-overs. There are no “wait until I get it together” moments .  There are no cares in the world for little ol’ Nik.

So I have been forced to find my happiness in my own place, in my own way, deep-deep down in the abyss that no 38 year old should go. They write articles about this. Conduct research on this.  Yes,  even studies have been done on this very concept-The Hidden Happy Place.

Where is my happy place you ask?  It’s not at a party.  It’s not deep in meditation. It’s not relaxing on my couch.  It’s not in a quiet walk.  It’s not in music.  It’s not at the movies or even with friends.

It is in fact, my loves, hidden in a bag of potatoes-a 5-lb bag of potatoes. 

Potatoes.

Yeah,  I said it.

Let me say it again.  Po-tay-toes…..

Hi, you wonderful carb filled deliciousness . Hiyeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee….you succulent heaven-Oh what a joy you bring…..

I have had red, sweet, and white potatoes every day and every which way for a week and counting. Fried, roasted, baked, with butter, with cheese, mashed, truffle potatoes.  Hell, it's 9 am and I'm already plotting what my next batch of yumminess  will be tonight.

Oh and let me beat you to the punch line...yes, I'm trying to lose weight and no, I don't care! I can’t find it in me to care anymore.

This morning I put on my fat pants and guess what? They said "Welcome back, Bitch".

I wasn’t even mad. I settled in it like the repeat offender I am. 

Sadly, this lack of care has manifested its self in other ways folks….

For example, a few weeks ago I looked in my closet and I realized I own 5 pairs of slacks...ONLY 5 pairs of work slacks. Uh huh...you do the math. *taps fingers *

You are correct; I've been wearing the saaaame outfits week after week. Hello world, where is the girl that cared about being fashion forward daily? Huuuuuh? 

Seriously, can we say it again! Over it!

Over over over it!

And just like my fat jean wearing ass refused to run for the train this morning, I'm refusing to care about any of this anymore! I may just start a revolution.  Nothing is safe.  Like, you know those uncomfortable ass thongs I’ve been wearing so YOU can’t see my panty line? Yes, you know the one that makes me feel like I have something permanently wedged up my ass?  PLEASE! You will see my panty line and deal with it!!

Shaving my legs during the winter? Faaaaaggeeeetaboutit!

That weight watchers online subscription I signed up for? Pah! I will settle in this winter weight and snuggle in its warmth! 

Heels outside of funerals and weddings? Never!

Contacts instead of glasses? I think not.

No more I tell you.  No more. 

I mean, why can't naturally cute just be enough? Why can't waking up be… enough. Why can't showing up simply be enooooough!

Enough! Enough! Enough !! (Yes, I said that AND stomped my feet)

Dear World, I am here and damn it that's all I've got.  

So let this be, your invitation...an open one, if you will, to join the movement....

Listen, there's nothing out there for you? What glutton free misery?  Fine, you may be in your skinny jeans...all skinny, so maybe this message isn't for you.  Maybe you have found the answer to all that perplexes womankind-- a comfortable thong that feels like boy shorts.

Maybe. Just Maybe....

Ooooor maybe......you're sitting at your desk drinking your lemon water wondering when it's going to fake you out and "fill you up" since that lean cuisine has once again failed you approximately 3 hours ago; shifting from cheek to cheek wondering if anyone will notice if you went commando because the string on your thong has gotten thinner and thinner as the day goes long and if you wait any longer it most certainly might break skin....

YOU

YES...YOU! 

Won't you join me?  You know what they say...where there's one..... 

   

*bites into potato chip and stares at the screen* 

Let the church say, Amen...

(if you’re reading this and thinking “We haven’t heard from her in a year and she has the nerve to pop up and says she quits? The answer is yes…yes I did!  Hahaha …don’t’ complain…don’t wonder…just enjoy.  I’m back snitches!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! )

TO CUFF OR NOT TO CUFF? THAT IS THE QUESTION...

“A hibernation is a covert preparation for a more overt action” Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man

This morning as I snuggled myself deep inside my comforter trying to squeeze out a measly 10 more minutes of shut eye, I made the grave and pressing realization about my current situation, first and foremost, I really need a warmer comforter (I mean who was I kidding). Secondly, somehow I missed cuffing preseason, AGAIN.  I mean, how can you start a season without the crucial draft?? Siggggh....

Oh good people yes, it is now October and apparently cuffing season is back upon us.  How do I know? Well the weather is brisk, not freezing cold.  It's cold enough for cover but not yet heat.  A fall jacket but not yet a wool coat.  That my dears, is the start of cuffing season.  Now, what does that mean? Well, in a nutshell it means we have less than month to get it together and get us a little cuddle buddy to keep us warm and occupied through the winter months before we have to resort to online shopping for an electric blanket. It's that simple. 

The thirst for cuffing season this year is so intense that I’m starting to panic.  And yeah I called it thirst, perhaps because I already own an electric blanket and feel some kind of way about it ooooor that my spidey-senses detect that it’s going to be a long season of hibernation and this squirrel has yet to gather her nuts. (Pun intended)

Anywho, before we delve into this topic, let’s first define “cuffing” for those who aren't as cool and hip as I am.  Just kidding I’m not so hip, but I damn sure am cool! HAHAHA! 

According to Urban Dictionary (ya, I can’t believe I quoted this as a source either) Cuffing Season is definine as:

During the fall and winter months people who would normally rather be single or promiscuous find themselves along with the rest of the world desiring to be "Cuffed" or tied down by a serious relationship. The cold weather and prolonged indoor activity causes singles to become lonely and desperate to be cuffed.

Soooooo….let me get this straight…..you want to only be serious about a relationship when it’s cold out?  But when it’s summer, we’re done?  Ummm okay I guess.  That seems pretty sus to me but I’ll go with it because I’m the first to admit, this morning I would have loooved to have snuggled with more than my fake body pillow.(Fake as in, I line the pillows up next to me like a body, not really a body pillow, but you don’t need to know all that about me)  I mean the colder it gets the more I really just want to play drinking games in the house with my booski.  Ya, let’s keep it real y’all know I’m not the type of girl to play footsies in front of a fire.  I’m more of a “let’s play Uno and take shots type of girl.”  Yo, there’s someone for everyone!.

With that said, let’s talk about what makes a good cuffing partner:

Regular Sex: Listen, you’d think this goes without saying right? But maybe it doesn't. So let me break it down to you.  What’s the point of “cuffing” if you’re not going to get sex regularly?  If that’s the case you may as well be fully single and take the risk of tossing your hat in the ring cowboy/girl style. You’d be better off, truly.  You are not cuffing if you are not getting it regularly and negotiating for it daily, plain and simple.

Fun:  Hey man, you can’t come into my cave if you’re going to be boring.  Nothing’s worse than having a long hibernation session with the person who lulls you to sleep regularly.  The point of cuffing is that I can go inside and 1) not miss the outside and 2) have a good damn time in the house and not be what? LONELY!  If you’re boring me, I’d rather risk hypothermia outside- Eff hibernation.

Commitment Free:  I mean let’s go with the definition.  Let’s be honest, cuffing season is for a finite period.  That’s not to say it can’t spur into a movement, but ladies/fellas let’s not hold our breaths.  The person, who looks to be cuffed in the winter, is looking to be free in the summer.  With that said know what you’re getting into and let it be what it is. Now, this one is tough because we all like to tell ourselves that we can hit and quit it, we’re just friends, we don’t “want” a commitment but very few of us actually mean it.  And very few of us are really in tune with our true wants and needs.  Some can pull it off, but very few can’t.  Don’t deceive yourself here; you’ll only, well, hurt yourself.

Down For Whatever:  This goes hand and hand with fun.  Don’t be a Debbie Downer or a Bob Blowme during cuffing season.  Hear me when I say, nobody, no-body wants that!  If you sign up for cuffing season, you sign up for the whole package.  Tuck your frilly, prude, pink panties in the back of the drawer and pull out the big girl/boy drawls and get down with the cause.  When you lock in you should be down to do a road trip, play Uno, watch football, Twister, cook dinner, whatever! Remember, its hibernation season and anything goes. *

*writers note: anything BUT:  meeting parents, meeting kids, family functions, weddings, funerals, reunions, friend outings. Remember its “cuffing” season, not “Boo” season.  Don’t get it twisted!

Know The Movie “Warriors” Verbatim And Can Rattle Off Episodes Of “The Cosby Show” At The Drop Of The Dime: Okay sorry, this is my personal call out. I mean I told y’all I missed pre-season! My cuff partner might be reading this right now! Call me boo! Lol. 

But really, we really need to be compatible on certain things.  One way to determine if a person will make the “cut” so to speak is to think about spending long times holed up in the house with said person.  Could y’all get through several days without going all “Shining” on each other?

For example, once I was stuck at a Hurricane party (like a real hurricane) for 5 days with 3 other people, one day in we killed our entire liquor stash.  Two days in we played every game in the house.  By the third day, we’d played every game we could make up including pennies in the dark. By the fourth day, it was go on a Walgreens run or experience a real live Hunger Game situation, the Miramar edition.  LOL. The point is, if you like “Gone with the Wind”, and I like “Boomerang”? We’re screwed one day in and I’m not talking the good kind of screw hahahaha!

~ 

All jokes aside, I’m actually on the fence on this cuffing season.  Yes, as I embark on partaking in the age old (is it really?) tradition of finding a cuff partner I have some reservations.  I mean, I am a fan of cuddling and I fully recognize my need and want to hibernate during the colder months but I actually believe that it is and can be fun to be in a full time relationship if you pick the right relationship, novel ideal, huh? Oh naïve me! But seriously listen, if you’re in a relationship and when summer comes you feel the urge to sleep with everything moving then you probably are in the wrong relationship.  Wanting to be with someone shouldn't come in seasons and if it does, you should probably decide to be single and not just the fake single that the cuffing season ideology allows you to be.  It’s what you ultimately want, so grow up and either get in a real relationship or be single and play the field, either way don’t hide under the umbrella of cuffing season.  That part of cuffing season is really, really lame.  

NOW,  if you and she or she and he, mutually agree that you’re just hooking up for “cuffing season” by all means cuff on, BUT people let’s mutually agree to it.  Don’t decide you’re embarking on cuffing season and you cuff a girl who’s in her boo season.  That’s just a recipe for heartache, pain, confusion, and disaster.  K?

And for me, well, I’m the girl that’s in limbo, kind of wedged between her boo season and her cuffing season, typical Nik right? But hey, I’ll take a cuff mate while I’m looking for my boo, please don’t get it twisted!  So if you know someone out there who likes to play drunk man’s Uno (stacking of course), can quote me a scene and a gang from the Warriors, and knows who Mrs. Griswold is?  Send him my way.  He may not be my boo, but he shol’ can be my boo for right now! Okaaaaaaay! *Hi-Five*

Stay warm my friends!

EQUILEBRIATE: SHADY WORD OF THE DAY

Drinking is an emotional thing. It joggles you out of the standardism of everyday life, out of everything being the same. It yanks you out of your body and your mind and throws you against the wall. I have the feeling that drinking is a form of suicide where you're allowed to return to life and begin all over the next day. It's like killing yourself, and then you're reborn. I guess I've lived about ten or fifteen thousand lives now.” 

― Charles Bukowski

Equilebriate:  [ee-kwuh-lee-brēˌāt]  verb

1)      The act of becoming inebriated to balance out life

Yes, I made this up.  But it is a real term in my life, in my mind, and in my heart and I’ve chosen to share with you. Awww, look at me.  *friendsies*  So, if you chose to judge me, be my guest…I don’t caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaare *starts countdown to happy hour* I don’t need you I have other friends and by friends I mean bottles and by bottles I mean wine and by wine I mean…well lots of it! *flips hair* 

Now this isn’t for everybody, even I will admit that.  But while you have your “AA sponsor, I don’t need to drink, how she dare tell me it’s okay to use drinks to equalize life” nose in the air, let me dare to explain.  Sometimes life gives you one big fat ass lemon, and the only choice you have is to bypass that mofo and head straight to the first bar (ain’t nobody got time to make their own drinks!!!) and drink until that isht normalizes.  Yes, there's therapy (some of us need that as well).  Yes, you can read.  Yes, you can meditate.  Yes, you can make plans and plot out tomorrow. Yes, Yes, Yes to all of that.  But hear me out, sometimes your day is so ridiculous, so ludicrous, so absurd  that you already know tomorrow will be better.  You just need to numb today to, you know, speed it along. There's no such thing as do overs but there is a such thing as "forget it ever happened". THAT, my friends is called equilebriating. 

Equilebriating is for days when it’s all just too much that you’re stopped in your tracks. It’s for the moments when you can be heard saying “come the eff on!!!” Days when you’ve been been had! You’ve been took! You’ve been hoodwinked! Bamboozled! Led astray! Run amok!  (Sorry, couldn’t help it)

Those moments like:

When the train was pulling into the station but somehow malfunctioned with the platform in eyesight but you’re stuck for 20 minutes?

When you accidentally kick the plug on your computer right when you were going to hit save?

That moment when you were on your way out to a party and swung by the ATM to get cash but realized your account was overdrawn so you had to head back home?

That moment when you missed an email about a new job because your email account has 60,000 emails of junk?

That moment when you spend all day talking to a super cute guy , having a super awesome time only to realize he’s married?

That time you thought the handsome guy across the room was looking at you but instead was looking at your friend?

When even your “fat” jeans, don’t fit anymore?

When you go to tie your shoe and the seam of said jeans rip?

When you have only one piece of gum left and drop it as you’re putting it in your mouth?

When the only seat left on the bus to DC is next to somebody who looks like they haven’t bathed in a month a Sundays, and 4 hours is too long of a ride to stand up?

You wear a sanitary napkin all week because you think you may start your cycle, only to NOT wear it the day you actually do start?

You search all morning to find a decent outfit to wear only to realize you wore the same outfit last week and forgot, but someone at your job did not?

You see a seat on a train and with stealth like skills you balance your purse, your groceries and your iPhone in your hand only to make it near the seat and a man scrambles past you and takes it?

The moment you run across two intersections, dodge a bus, a pedicab, and a mad Chinese takeout bike rider to hail a cab for him to tell you he’s not going uptown?

That moment you see an ex’s chick, you know the one he chose over you, and she’s…..not….cute?

That moment you find out your crush has a crush and that crush isn't you?

The time those oh so nifty wings on your pads decided to join forces against you to form the pad Voltron with your underwear and while arm wrestling with them AND your panties you rip all parties involved….yes the panties too? I mean the PANTIES TOO?????

Listen it is in these moments, there is only one thing to do. 

ONE EFFIN THING LEFT TO DO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

EQUILEBRIATE!!!!!!!!!!!! DO YOU HEAR ME?? EQUI-FUCKING-LEBRIATE ….

AND TRY AGAIN TOMORROW….

Now someone inbox me a good happy hour special….

“In wine there is wisdom, in beer there is Freedom, in water there is bacteria.” 

― Benjamin Franklin

THIRTIES ARE THE NEW THIRTIES....

Age isn't how old you are but how old you feel.”  Gabriel Garcí­a Márqu

I am 37.

Thirty- Seven. 

THREE-SEVEN!

Just let that sink in a bit….

THAT’S 3 YEARS UNTIL FORTY! FORTY! FOUR-ZERO!!!!!!

So to say that I’m not taking this birthday well is an….ummm…understatement.  I’m soooo not adjusting well at all!  It’s so bad that it has taken me almost a month to write this birthday post.  Ya, it’s like that. 

It’s not that getting older bothers me.  Okay lies, the number does bother me.  I mean it just sounds old!  But it’s also how getting older feels.  And I don’t mean the aching knees and creaking bones.  I mean how it feeeeeel feels. Okay let me explain. It’s the “I’d rather stay at home and climb in the bed at 7pm” or the “I eat prunes for dessert and drink prune juice for breakfast” feeling.  It’s the “sign up for your 20 year high school anniversary” feeling.  The “you don’t look THAT old” feeling.  The “no ma’am, you can put your ID away, we’re certain you’re over 21” feeling.  The “please stop saying turn up, you sound like your mother” feeling.

Speaking of turn up, why can’t I let that isht go?  I’m soooo over the phrase “Turn Up” yet, I can’t stop from saying it! I think that was the first sign that I’m aging.  Okay I lie, I lie…the first sign was my gray hair and my tricky stomach issues aka the Notorious T.U.M.M.Y but the fact that I can’t let go of the phrase “Turn up” is a damn close third.  It reminds me of when my mom got a hold of “No Diggity” and for months, years even, she would end a sentence with “No diggity, no doubt” or how my father refuses to let go of “igging me” and even uses it incorrectly.  THAT’S ME!!!! I think I’ve turned into my parents and have forgotten when to let go of slang.  I mean at some point using the latest slang, blasting Lil’ Wayne, and going out to get faded has to get old and become cliché right??? Okay, noooo scratch that last one because a drink here and there (with a buzz included) is sometimes necessary.  *flips hair and sips Rum*

Ok well, let me stay on track.  The point is…well….I’m old y’all.  I turned 37, and I wish I could say I don’t feel a day over 25.  I’d be lying and I pride myself on being very truthful on here.  The truth is I feel every bit of 37-EVERY FUCKING BIT OF IT!

And to top it off, I have to now deal with real pressing old people isht.  No longer am I able to just ignore certain realities.  They are here and knocking on my 37 year old door.  The time has come to make some real decisions and to step into middleagedom (that’s a word damn it).  For example:

To have kids or not to have kids, that is the question:

Here is the dilemma.  I think I want kids but there’s a small part of me that thinks I was programmed to want kids.  Like no one has given us women a blueprint outside of having kids.  You’re born and raised to believe you get married, you have kids and THEN life begins.  So, of course I want kids I mean life needs to begin, right? Right?  I don’t know maybe? Maybe not?  Here’s what I do know, I definitely want to get married.  I’m totally great with kids, so if he comes with one, we’re good.  But do I want to have one….sigggghhh. I guess? I guess not?  All I know is this. I’m on the fence. And I don’t have enough time to be on it!!! If I want kids I needed to have started yesterday!  This biological clock I fear has run out of snooze buttons.  It’ barbeque or mildew time! Hoe up or Blow up (okay maybe that’s not approp here, but in Pimps up, Hoes Down” the two went hand in hand)

But then I’m like what would life look like for me if I don’t pull the trigger on the baby making machine?

What does life look like post biological clock explosion?  What does post-40 look like for those of us who opt not to have kids? Or consequently miss the kid mark?  Do we write our own story?  Are we looked upon like an anomaly?  Will we be the three headed monster folks like to make us be?  I mean if I had a dollar for every person that asks me when I’m having kids I could well…afford to freeze my eggs!

Insurance is no longer an option.   Don’t. You. Judge. Me.  Yes, you with your corporate job that matches your insurance.  You, the one who can’t fathom a life without insurance and 401K and are appalled that people don’t have either.  YOU!!!  Obama didn’t come up with Obamacare for no reason!  Insurance is expensive and as a freelancer it’s totally unaffordable.   But I can no longer ignore the need of insurance.   Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of free clinics in the state of New York and programs for the uninsured.  I’ve utilized some but it’s tricky when you’re not state mandated “poor”.  I’m sure that’s not the legal term for it, but that’s what we’ll call it here.  I’m what they like to deem “working poor”, Even though I wouldn’t own that title either.  But the logic is, you make a salary too much for the free stuff and too little to pay for it yourself. 

Needless to say, once I went to a free clinic.   Yeah I said it, I went to a FREE CLINIC! And it was a traumatizing  experience and that’s not just the bourgeoisie in me speaking, it really was! Girl Scouts honor.  Issue one, the clientele (no shade) coupled with the lack of cleanliness of the waiting room, I was certain if I didn’t have tuberculosis, I would when I left.  Secondly, I had a vicious cough that produced green phlegm. Yes, all of the signs pointed to a serious chest situation.  When I walked in the door, the doctor looked at me like in my direction and prescribed cough syrup with codeine and asked me if I wanted birth control pills.  She didn’t pull out nary stethoscope, not a chest x-ray, not one examination.  Hell she didn’t even try to find out if I was already pregnant.   Just something to suppress the cough and to stop babies. I knew then, it was only a matter of time before I would have to address this insurance situation. It’s only so many times you can go through one of those clinics and come out unscathed.

The art of losing weight.  Oh yes my friends, this is now an art, perhaps even a game.  Hell, perhaps it's even giving The Hunger Games a run for its money.  Yeah I went there with it because that’s what it’s become.  What happened to working out a few days, scaling back on pop and sweets and dropping 10?  I’ve been working out for months…..MONTHS…regularly, watching everything I eat. I’ve lost 5 pounds at best and I’m not even sure that’s not water.  What the eff is that about??? Please tell me I don’t have to work out this hard and deprive myself of everything that life is made of,  for the rest of my life???  I mean come the hell on!!!! My metabolism didn’t just slow down.  This shit died a tragic and painful death.  It disappear, never to be seen again.  It, my friends is not about this life. And when I mean this life, I mean MY life.  And it certainly wasn’t about this lose weight life, effin’ quitter.  Now, here I am at 37 desperately trying to shed 20 lbs and I’ve tried everything but a magic trick.  (Which I’m not opposed to if y’all know of someone).  So now I’ve convinced myself that it’s not about the weight, it’s all about working out and eating healthy and as long as I don’t gain, I win.  Yeah, yeah, yeah the lies we tell ourselves.

When I was little I used to joke my grandmother about her many diets.  I told her she was dieting her life away and when I grow up, I would NEVER diet like that.  Now I know why she laughed so hard.  Poor thing didn’t have the heart to tell me that life will be one big low fat cheese, low sodium, turkey bacon, skinless chicken, sugar-free diet.  Deal with it!

Well friends, now you know why I cry.  One day I went to sleep as a mid-thirty-something young spry girl with nothing but time and opportunity on her hands and the next day I woke up a late thirty middle aged lady with the shot clock speeding down to zero.  This can’t be life!!!! I promise as a kid it took a life time for my birthday around as I’ve gotten older it seems like time has sped up?! How the hell does that work??

Wooosaaaaahhhhh, listen I’m done venting for now.  I just had to get that off my chest so I can move on for the year.  But listen friends, if I show up with sextuplets next year don’t blame me…blame the clock.  *Nik shrug* What’s a girl to do, it’s game time right?

Mambo Nik Out!

“If you’re not getting older, you’re dead” Tom Petty

THIRTIES ARE THE NEW THIRTIES....

Age isn't how old you are but how old you feel.”  Gabriel Garcí­a Márqu

I am 37.

Thirty- Seven. 

THREE-SEVEN!

Just let that sink in a bit….

THAT’S 3 YEARS UNTIL FORTY! FORTY! FOUR-ZERO!!!!!!

So to say that I’m not taking this birthday well is an….ummm…understatement.  I’m soooo not adjusting well at all!  It’s so bad that it has taken me almost a month to write this birthday post.  Ya, it’s like that. 

It’s not that getting older bothers me.  Okay lies, the number does bother me.  I mean it just sounds old!  But it’s also how getting older feels.  And I don’t mean the aching knees and creaking bones.  I mean how it feeeeeel feels. Okay let me explain. It’s the “I’d rather stay at home and climb in the bed at 7pm” or the “I eat prunes for dessert and drink prune juice for breakfast” feeling.  It’s the “sign up for your 20 year high school anniversary” feeling.  The “you don’t look THAT old” feeling.  The “no ma’am, you can put your ID away, we’re certain you’re over 21” feeling.  The “please stop saying turn up, you sound like your mother” feeling.

Speaking of turn up, why can’t I let that isht go?  I’m soooo over the phrase “Turn Up” yet, I can’t stop from saying it! I think that was the first sign that I’m aging.  Okay I lie, I lie…the first sign was my gray hair and my tricky stomach issues aka the Notorious T.U.M.M.Y but the fact that I can’t let go of the phrase “Turn up” is a damn close third.  It reminds me of when my mom got a hold of “No Diggity” and for months, years even, she would end a sentence with “No diggity, no doubt” or how my father refuses to let go of “igging me” and even uses it incorrectly.  THAT’S ME!!!! I think I’ve turned into my parents and have forgotten when to let go of slang.  I mean at some point using the latest slang, blasting Lil’ Wayne, and going out to get faded has to get old and become cliché right??? Okay, noooo scratch that last one because a drink here and there (with a buzz included) is sometimes necessary.  *flips hair and sips Rum*

Ok well, let me stay on track.  The point is…well….I’m old y’all.  I turned 37, and I wish I could say I don’t feel a day over 25.  I’d be lying and I pride myself on being very truthful on here.  The truth is I feel every bit of 37-EVERY FUCKING BIT OF IT!

And to top it off, I have to now deal with real pressing old people isht.  No longer am I able to just ignore certain realities.  They are here and knocking on my 37 year old door.  The time has come to make some real decisions and to step into middleagedom (that’s a word damn it).  For example:

To have kids or not to have kids, that is the question:

Here is the dilemma.  I think I want kids but there’s a small part of me that thinks I was programmed to want kids.  Like no one has given us women a blueprint outside of having kids.  You’re born and raised to believe you get married, you have kids and THEN life begins.  So, of course I want kids I mean life needs to begin, right? Right?  I don’t know maybe? Maybe not?  Here’s what I do know, I definitely want to get married.  I’m totally great with kids, so if he comes with one, we’re good.  But do I want to have one….sigggghhh. I guess? I guess not?  All I know is this. I’m on the fence. And I don’t have enough time to be on it!!! If I want kids I needed to have started yesterday!  This biological clock I fear has run out of snooze buttons.  It’ barbeque or mildew time! Hoe up or Blow up (okay maybe that’s not approp here, but in Pimps up, Hoes Down” the two went hand in hand)

But then I’m like what would life look like for me if I don’t pull the trigger on the baby making machine?

What does life look like post biological clock explosion?  What does post-40 look like for those of us who opt not to have kids? Or consequently miss the kid mark?  Do we write our own story?  Are we looked upon like an anomaly?  Will we be the three headed monster folks like to make us be?  I mean if I had a dollar for every person that asks me when I’m having kids I could well…afford to freeze my eggs!

Insurance is no longer an option.   Don’t. You. Judge. Me.  Yes, you with your corporate job that matches your insurance.  You, the one who can’t fathom a life without insurance and 401K and are appalled that people don’t have either.  YOU!!!  Obama didn’t come up with Obamacare for no reason!  Insurance is expensive and as a freelancer it’s totally unaffordable.   But I can no longer ignore the need of insurance.   Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of free clinics in the state of New York and programs for the uninsured.  I’ve utilized some but it’s tricky when you’re not state mandated “poor”.  I’m sure that’s not the legal term for it, but that’s what we’ll call it here.  I’m what they like to deem “working poor”, Even though I wouldn’t own that title either.  But the logic is, you make a salary too much for the free stuff and too little to pay for it yourself. 

Needless to say, once I went to a free clinic.   Yeah I said it, I went to a FREE CLINIC! And it was a traumatizing  experience and that’s not just the bourgeoisie in me speaking, it really was! Girl Scouts honor.  Issue one, the clientele (no shade) coupled with the lack of cleanliness of the waiting room, I was certain if I didn’t have tuberculosis, I would when I left.  Secondly, I had a vicious cough that produced green phlegm. Yes, all of the signs pointed to a serious chest situation.  When I walked in the door, the doctor looked at me like in my direction and prescribed cough syrup with codeine and asked me if I wanted birth control pills.  She didn’t pull out nary stethoscope, not a chest x-ray, not one examination.  Hell she didn’t even try to find out if I was already pregnant.   Just something to suppress the cough and to stop babies. I knew then, it was only a matter of time before I would have to address this insurance situation. It’s only so many times you can go through one of those clinics and come out unscathed.

The art of losing weight.  Oh yes my friends, this is now an art, perhaps even a game.  Hell, perhaps it's even giving The Hunger Games a run for its money.  Yeah I went there with it because that’s what it’s become.  What happened to working out a few days, scaling back on pop and sweets and dropping 10?  I’ve been working out for months…..MONTHS…regularly, watching everything I eat. I’ve lost 5 pounds at best and I’m not even sure that’s not water.  What the eff is that about??? Please tell me I don’t have to work out this hard and deprive myself of everything that life is made of,  for the rest of my life???  I mean come the hell on!!!! My metabolism didn’t just slow down.  This shit died a tragic and painful death.  It disappear, never to be seen again.  It, my friends is not about this life. And when I mean this life, I mean MY life.  And it certainly wasn’t about this lose weight life, effin’ quitter.  Now, here I am at 37 desperately trying to shed 20 lbs and I’ve tried everything but a magic trick.  (Which I’m not opposed to if y’all know of someone).  So now I’ve convinced myself that it’s not about the weight, it’s all about working out and eating healthy and as long as I don’t gain, I win.  Yeah, yeah, yeah the lies we tell ourselves.

When I was little I used to joke my grandmother about her many diets.  I told her she was dieting her life away and when I grow up, I would NEVER diet like that.  Now I know why she laughed so hard.  Poor thing didn’t have the heart to tell me that life will be one big low fat cheese, low sodium, turkey bacon, skinless chicken, sugar-free diet.  Deal with it!

Well friends, now you know why I cry.  One day I went to sleep as a mid-thirty-something young spry girl with nothing but time and opportunity on her hands and the next day I woke up a late thirty middle aged lady with the shot clock speeding down to zero.  This can’t be life!!!! I promise as a kid it took a life time for my birthday around as I’ve gotten older it seems like time has sped up?! How the hell does that work??

Wooosaaaaahhhhh, listen I’m done venting for now.  I just had to get that off my chest so I can move on for the year.  But listen friends, if I show up with sextuplets next year don’t blame me…blame the clock.  *Nik shrug* What’s a girl to do, it’s game time right?

Mambo Nik Out!

“If you’re not getting older, you’re dead” Tom Petty

THE IRREFUTABLE TRUTH

"Underneath my outside face,

There’s a face that none can see.

A little less smiley,

A little less sure,

But a whole lot more like me” Shel Silverstein

Hi,

My name is Nika, no, that’s not my government name, but it is a nickname I've gone as my entire life.  I’m 5’6 and ½.  Yes, the ½ counts.  I have dark curly hair.  I’m a dark skin, African-American girl from the Midwest.  At times, I’m a true Midwest girl, and at times I’m a flat out New Yorker. The physical traits about me that stand out the most would be my smile and my laugh.  If you've experienced both you should know why.  I looooove to have fun at all times-ALL TIMES.  I love to read, cook, and hang with friends.   I value my friendships and hold them near and dear to my heart.  I think I’m the coolest person I know and that’s not being arrogant.  I also think I’m the most conflicted person I know and that's not being negative.  I live in my head.  I over analyze everything.  I take a lot of things personal, even when I know they’re not personal.  I contradict myself from thought to thought, action to action, and day to day.  I hate conflicts, they give me heart palpitations. If I had to pick two things about me that I love, it would be my truthfulness and my big heart.  If I had to pick two things about me that I hate, it would be my truthfulness and my big heart.  

I hated make up, then I turned 36 and I liked it a little more.  I used to think I was tough as nails, I am not. I, also, have a sexy side too or at least that's what I tell myself.  I’m a big drinker, not so much a big party-er, there’s a difference and no it’s not alcoholism. I lay out full blown stories in my head with conversations; this is how you get most of the stories on this here blog.  I hate being ignored.  I HATE BEING IGNORED.  That’s a Leo trait.  I’m a Leo through and through and I used to hate when people classified me as that (in a condescending way), now I know they’re just jealous.  Yes, I meant that. Yes, I know that’s a Leo trait, too. LOL. 

But here’s the biggie big big, I’m a big emotional baby.  My emotions rage with a personality of their own. They’re unpredictable. They’re uncontrollable. They’re immense. They’re all encompassing.   To know me is to know my emotions. And in 36 years, I've not been able to do anything about them but let them be.

There are many pros to me as a person:  I’m a giver. I’m a sharer. I’m loyal. I’m present as a friend. I’m passionate. I’m optimistic. I’m a hard-worker. I’m a cheerleader and advocate for my friends and family and more.

There are many cons to me as a person:  I’m indecisive.  I share TOO much (the irony of this blog isn’t missed). I can be pushy.  I talk too much. I vent too much. I cry too much and more.

Now, why do I share this with you? Well, it’s been a while since we've tango-ed my loves and I want to reacquaint you with me to jump start our love affair before you abruptly leave me.  Naaaaah, just kidding, y’all love me and you’re not going anywhere! This type of sick love is codependent on each other like an addiction.  And despite what your therapist says or *whispers* your AA sponsor some addictions are necessary and welcomed.  Yep, I said it and what?!

No seriously, I share this with you because I, Nika, am struggling.  Lately I’m starting to think just being me isn't good enough.  Can I be all the way transparent and vulnerable?  My “me” just doesn't seem to cut it these days.  And I’m starting to think my “me” may need some self adjustment.

**I try my best not to use this blog as a journal but more as a storytelling avenue. However today I will make the exception. **

Today I lost a friend.  A good friend that decided they can no longer be friends with me.  I don’t take my friendships lightly so this hurts a great deal.  It has left me feeling panicked, empty, sad, angry and an whole slew of emotions.  But mostly I feel like I failed.  I failed as a friend.  

Because of this, I needed to really self analyze myself and my personal qualities  in an attempt to try to figure out how did this get so bad.   Because let’s just call it for what it is, there’s nothing more humbling when someone doesn't want to be around or deal with you anymore because your “you” has become too much for them.

And what do you do when that happens?  I know you’re not supposed to change for people but you’d have to be a robot if you didn't stop to pause and check your core.  Sure, I think I’m great but what does that say if others don’t? 

No, this wasn't my only friend and no, this won’t be my last friend.  But this friend meant a lot to me and these decisions don’t come easy.  I've been up all night picking myself apart wondering how could I let this happen.  This is the first friend that has told me they can’t be friends with me anymore and I don’t know how to digest that.  Now given, there are many layers to this friendship that I won’t air out in this blog, but today what I realized is not everyone is going to like you or your “you” and well…that shit just sucks.

“To lose a friend is the greatest of all losses” Unknown

FOR COLORED GIRLS WHO HAVE CONSIDERED A HYSTERECTOMY WHEN THE MIDOL WASN’T ENUF

"Whoever came up with the term, 'Have a happy period,' needs to be taken outside, force fed Midol, and shot with tampons.” ~Anon

Dear…..

Male Gynecologist,

When I came to you in tears regarding my excruciating cramps and you looked at me and said “unfortunately, that’s one of the symptoms that come with your periods”, did you think my 30 plus year old ass didn't know the symptoms of a cycle I've had every month for the last 20 plus years?  -_-

CVS worker,

When I buy my supplies and I ask you to double bag my pads and tampons, please do not look at me as if you are unaware I’m buying SANITARY PRODUCTS! No, I am not ashamed that I’m on my period, I do not want the entire office to KNOW I’m on my period.

Always,

I have never had 1) A happy period 2) worn white on my period…..PERIOD!

Tylenol,

Why don’t you come out and tell us? We actually already know, you’re placebo pills right?

Co-worker,

When you see me walking with a pencil case like pouch into the restroom, don’t ask me what’s in it unless you’re prepared for the answer.  I mean it could be makeup, it could be pencils -_- or it could be….. you've been warned.

Innocent Bystander,

Sometimes tampons come out the package, and sometimes they really do feel like pens.  Don’t be startled if I go for a pen and pull out a tampon.  Thanks.

Pharmaceutical companies,

For fucks sake…is there nothing stronger on the market?  I mean COME ON!

Cube mate,

I know I was just laughing about that YouTube video, now I’m crying. No I don’t know why. I just am.

CSI,

Did you really have to kill that kid?  (Okay this one may seem random but actuaaaallly…did they? Listen,  the emotional effect of your cycle is real.  I really did cry while watching CSI wondering why a show about solving murder mysteries had to kill someone.  It isn't reasonable or sensible, it just is LOL)

Excuse me while I have a moment shall you?  Listen, it’s my blog and I can cry if I want to!!!

I’m soooooo over this womanly shit, I cannot even tell you emphatically enough.  I’m 36 and I first got my cycle at the young age of 12. So, that would be 24 years/288 months /(okay 287 since I missed that one month in Japan)/2,296 days of torture.   2,296 DAYS OF TORTURE!!!!  

I haven’t had a baby yet so you'd think my body would get the memo to chill the FUCK out! Yes, I said it and I meant it.  Is it not backwards that my cycle would increase and get heavier since I haven’t had a baby?  Did it miss the memo?  Hellooooooo? Hold on to those eggs and relax yourself!  No seriously? CHILL OUT!

I know this may be uncomfortable to some to read because for some reason in 2013, the conversation of menstrual cycles STILL make people uncomfortable. Ha, imagine that!  I mean, it is 2013, and we still have to tip toe around talking about periods.  It’s amazing to me.  Well, my good friends, not today and not on this blog . "No no no not today" *Dikembe Mutombo voice*.  Because 1) we women need an outlet to vent 2) you men, need to understand 3) I’m on the ledge and damn it someone will listen! 

Good people, I’ll never forget when I got my cycle in the 7^th grade.  Everyone used to talk about it in the locker room and there was even a girl in my junior high that was pregnant (I hadn't even had my first kiss! But that's a whole other story! lol).  So I was eagerly looking for it, the period people…NOT the pregnancy!  This probably was the last time I would ever be excited to see it come.   No, seriously, the next month I stayed on my cycle for 15 days. I knew then this was nothing nice…nothing nice at all!  Anywho,  I remember being slightly cheerful that it came like I received an honor or a gift so to speak.  Hmmph, oh it was a gift alright much like that horse that the Greeks gifted the Trojans eh?  One big flimflam gift of immense proportions. 

Why are we women not honest with each other about this?  All we do is perpetuate the fairy tale. 

·         It stops in water

·         It usually goes on for 4 days

·         Sometimes you don’t cramp

·         It’s a gift that allows to be able to give wondrous life

·         It’s an introduction to your women hood

I CALL BULLSHIT! 

As the years have gone on, I have looked at each one of my relatives with the wicked side eye because no one pulled me aside and said to me “listen, you don’t want this,” “this isn't fun,”  “being a woman is tough” …I mean come on, give me the real deal people!  Listen, I’m going to say what no one will,  if nothing else alone makes women tougher than men; it is our monthly menstrual cycle.  THE END!

You wussies would be crying in your protein shakes if you had to endure the pain, the emotional turmoil, and the overall inconvenience we women undergo EVERY month, not every other month, not occasionally, not once a year but EVERY MONTH.  That is every 4 weeks for 7 days. 

Have you ever been in so much pain you've called out not for your mother, not for your lover but for JESUS!?!?!?  Have to spend hours sitting on the toilet because it makes your cramps “feel better”?  Been nervous to sit in a chair because even after all of this experience, as a grown woman you know accidents can and will happen?  Sleep on a towel at night? Stopped dead in your tracks on the street because of excruciating pain shooting up through your lower stomach and out your back?  Slept with a heating pad on so hot you’re certain you've cooked your bladder?  Have a cycle so heavy it resembles a crime scene? Gotten a tooth pulled and not taken all of the pain medicine just so you can have something stronger left over for that time of the month? (Okay, maybe that’s just me)

Woooosaaaaaah…

Are you there God? It’s me Nika, 

This may be risky to inquire but I’m totally shocked you haven’t phased out periods kind of like dinosaurs.They're totally antiquated and I’m sure with you being the King of all Kings, the Alpha AND the Omega,  there should be an easier way to conceive?  I mean come on…remember Mary? Hahah Noooo of course you remember Mary just a little jokey joke..... 

Okay but seriously, listen I didn't even know Eve and her evil ways but I’m certain I've repented 10 times over for this.  And so well…. I just wanted to put the thought out there you know…it’s okay…if you…take it away… like all of it away?  Give it some thought, K?

Sincerely …in your name…forever and ever more…..

*pops Midol and fades to black* There's gotta be a better way.......