Keep It Classy

No, heffa...those shorts are too short.

You know, as a full figured woman I have always loathed the stigma behind the title. We need to eat healthier, we need to exercise, we need to join the the socially acceptable weight class...-- okay, okay I get it. There are lots of things we could do better. And I understand, for some, it's very hard to lose that 40lbs to have a BMI your doctor would approve. Personally, I'm pretty comfortable with my body. Don't get me wrong, I have many insecurities (most of which I will never disclose) and I've had my struggles with being pressured to be something I'm not. But...I've come to terms with most of that, with a little work to go (per usual), and I am determined to love me.

THAT BEING SAID...

Listen, big girl. You ARE beautiful. But when you wear a pair of shorts you've probably had since the 7th grade (when you weighed in at a buck twenty) and your buttcheeks are sagging out of the back and your muffin top is protruding so much that even your oversized tee can't cover it, lemme tell ya...it's not cute. Sure, men are innately drawn to women with basically no clothes on. It's only natural. BUT...it's only even semi acceptable when the girl is freakin' super model. When she has a body that could stop a truck. Let's be honest...if you're identifying with me right now, you don't have a body that could stop a truck. That doesn't mean there's anything wrong with it, but be honest with yourself boo boo. The freshman fifteen, two kids, and that box of cookies later those size 6 shorts are going to just make you look trashy, not classy. You could be the nicest, most wonderful person on the planet but the bottom line is that people judge you on the way you present yourself. A well-fitting outfit can open a lot of doors you didn't even know was possible. This may piss a few people off, but I never said I'd be nice. I just said I'd be honest. And as a big girl, who tries to dress herself accordingly and show off the curves in the RIGHT places, it's sort of an insult to the whole movement. And yes, it's a movement (contrary to popular belief). People, not just women, are discriminated against for their weight quite often. Not necessarily in the work place (unless we're talking strip club or Hooters)...but our bodies are what initially attract the opposite (or in some cases, same [Team Rainbow!]) sex. And a lot of guys are not attracted to women like me, a fact I've come to know and sort of embrace because when I DO meet a guy who is comfortable with my body, it's a treat and I know he's going to be worth my time. (Unless he's a psychotic, codependent freak of nature...in which case, kick that mother fucker to the curb).

All I'm saying is, ladies...respect yourself the way you WANT to be respected by other people. Clothes won't change everything, but they are a big step in portraying confidence in yourself which is attractive and can sometimes even blind other people to your obvious flaws. Be classy. Not trashy.

Oh, and P.S. Be nice to the WalMart employees. They hate that soul sucking building as much as you do, believe.

"Welcome to WalMart...get your shit and get out." - WALTER (Jeff Dunham)

Rap v. Stigma

No, heffa...not everyone who likes rap/R&B/hip-hop is looking to get shot or sell drugs. A friend of mine recently expressed to me his lack of knowledge on the subject of "urban" music, if you will. I was trying to think of a way to explain to him the swag that is brought out when listening to this kind of music. You don't have to be black, you don't have to have lived the life, you don't have to really even understand a lot of what they are saying with their music. All you have to do...is feel it. Feel the fire. Feel the rawness and the utter insanity that is behind it. Feel the beats, feel the rhythm, let yourself let go. There are many genres of music that I listen to to raise my voice and sing with everything I have. Then there's rap - I don't listen to it to get any sort of epiphany about life or music. I listen to it to tap into that person inside of me with the biggest dose of self-esteem on the block. "Some call it arrogance, I call it confidence." - Beyonce. Whether it's R.Kelly's "Bump & Grind" unearthing your innate sexuality or "No Love" with Eminem and Lil Wayne bringing out your inner gangster and making you feel like you could own this world...even if that world is just in your car. Self-esteem is something that is greatly underestimated in this world and I believe anything that boosts it, even if superficially and for under four minutes, is as important as breathing. For some, music is an escape. An escape from reality, from life, from your worries, from your troubles, from thinking about anything and everything but the beats slamming through your soul. You can smoke a blunt, put on some Snoop Dogg, and chill the fuck out. Or you can throw on some Hot Boyz from back in the day and shake your ass. Do what you wanna do, feel it, and appreciate it. Don't hate on it just because it's different, celebrate it it because it's happening. It's life. It's beautiful. It's real. Love. Learn. Feel. Expand your horizons.

The First of Many....Yet Hopefully The Last For You

DISCLAIMER!!!
A little background -
I'm a big city girl brought up in a small town. I had the privilege of being raised by two of the most open minded, random people on the planet and I'm SO SO glad they found each other. Due to their innately contrasting personalities, mine has shaped up to be quite an odd one by most people's standards. My sense of humor is crude, my laugh is huge, and my modesty is...nonexistent. I've never considered myself a fashionista by any means, so this is not a blog about fashion. This is a blog of random musings of every day things/sightings that most ignore for fear of feeling judgmental. Don't worry, love - I got your back. I will gladly reserve my place in Hell by saying exactly what you're thinking.

The title of my blog is "No, Heffa". To most of you, that may not make sense because you're not quite sure what a "heffa" really is. During my short time in college, I met one of my closest friends...my sister...a Miss Monica. She introduced me to the word "heffa" -- as far as I've gathered, since the Queen never reveals her secrets, a heffa is a girl who has done something outrageously not okay. In context, if a girl says "Girl, please..." it can be replaced with "Heffa, please..." -- hopefully that makes sense. It is in no way referring to a woman as a cow, a heffer, or discriminating in any way against age, race, size, sexual orientation, or religious affiliation.

One more thing - I'm crude. I have no filter and this may not be KID APPROVED. So beware...

Let us...begin:

No, heffa...you should NOT wear white boots with fur around the top in the middle of winter. Don't get me wrong, a cute pair of fashionable boots goes a long way with our Kansas weather. However, WHITE...there's a reason you see not ONE other person in the classy Wal-Mart parking lot wearing WHITE shoes (unless they are tennis shoes, which somehow have some by to the rule): IT'S NOT CLASSY. It looks cheap. FUR...babygirl..Ima need you to not want to be a stripper when you grow up. Have you ever watched one of those Friday night Cinemax (Skinemax) soft core porns? I know most people watch them for the sex (which is ultimately intensely lame in comparison to the interwebs lovely selection) but I get bored with the sex and start judging the acting and the wardrobe. It really says a lot of the budget for such films. I digress...check out the girls. They dress like whores on a corner. White fur boots and all. Is that the impression you want to give off whilst walking with your semi-attractive boyfriend/husband/thing? I bet it isn't. I say this: take those boots out into the country. Take them for a drive. To some remote field in the middle of Kansas. (Can't be TOO hard to find, yeah?) Take them into the middle of that field. Throw gasoline all over them, so they smell nice and nasty. Then...take that lit cigarette out of your mouth and throw it. And watch...those motherfuckers...burn. Then, drive back into town to your nearest Target (or a store of your choice). Spend some money ($20 at K-Mart, I know this for a fact) on some classy...wearable...black...sleek...boots. Super cute, super in, super stylish and NO ONE will judge you. Even I won't judge you. Because giiiirrrrrrl them boots are cuuuuute! :)

Now that I've gotten that out of my system (Thank goodness) I'm off to rehearsal! Happy reading!