Watch my Daughters’ Sister Tag!!


Watch me prank my youngest as I mock how she spends her ENTIRE life! 


How to Lose 2 Dress Sizes in 37 Days… Maybe

If there is one job I’ve always dreamed of having, it was that of a food critic.  Getting paid to eat food and write what is good or bad about it, would be the closest thing to Heaven for me.  I am pretty sure that when I meet Jesus, He will show me gold paved streets lined with buffet tables and no snot nosed kids contaminating my smorgasbord.  To know me is to know that food is a form of worship.  A good plate is a praise to the Lord, for His bounty is wonderous and eating it is a celebration of God’s glory.  HALLELUJAH!!! However, with this praise and worship comes calories and fat grams.  I have always been comfortable with my self-proclaimed “medium” girl status (I’m not a little girl but I’m not a big girl either… I’m medium).  But the older I get, the more medium I get, and I must face some hard truths about myself.

Now, I could go on and on about body image as a Black woman in America, but I refuse.  I try hard not to let society’s standards of beauty affect me.  I always felt if I gave in to trying to lose my food baby (aka my FUPA whose name is Bella and has been with me since I was a preteen, so we’re pretty damn close), that I was giving in to the powers that be and admitting that something was wrong with my body. My lack of interest in losing weight was a rebellious middle finger to the family, friends, boyfriends and occasional strangers who alluded that my thick was little more than the “sexy” thick, and that I could be a model if I just lost a little weight around the middle.

I find that as I creep upon my forties, my body is now the one making these horrible accusations.  That extra weight around the middle is no longer an aesthetics issue. I’m now finding that Bella is not only making me question the creation of buttons on pants, but affecting even the simplest of tasks, like walking up stairs in my home.   The fact that I am even contemplating wearing elastic waists or foregoing all my jeans and only allowing leggings in my closet is a sign that something must change.

THEN… the catalyst. A friend’s wedding is coming up and I don’t wanna buy a new dress!!  The red carpet themed dress code is a perfect opportunity to wear this gorgeous gown I bought last year.  It’s only been worn once, and the sheer cleavage and floral appliques are the perfect amount of sexy and classy, just like I like!  Problem is…it’s a size 12.  I’m a solid 16 right now.  So…. What to do?  Can I lose 2 dress sizes in a month and jump start this lifestyle change to finally get rid of Bella?  Hell, do I want to? Do I keep giving a proverbial middle finger to the world or do I finally accept that it’s not about how I look and start to take charge of how I feel?   These are the thoughts that have been swirling around my over-analytical, hyper-critical Virgo mind for the last 3 weeks. And now, I no longer have 37 days to lose 2 dress sizes.  It is now more like 13 (6 by the time I finish this final draft).

Finding the will power to change eating habits and incorporate actual exercise into my daily routine is a lot more challenging than I anticipated.  NONETHELESS, at 37 years young, if I can’t take charge and change my body, how can I expect to take charge of any other area of my life.  My body is mine. What I do with it is my decision.   I finally realize that for the last 30 years, my rebellion of outsider’s opinions of my body isn’t an actual rejection of them, or society for that matter. If I truly didn’t care about people’s opinions, I wouldn’t have to give them a fuck you and stay away from the gym or over eat in their disapproving faces.  I wouldn’t roll my eyes or pose coyly when my aunts ask if I’m losing weight as a compliment.

I would just be, regardless of what being is.

I would decide what to do with my body based on my own opinion of how I want to be.  Deciding to lose weight for my health and wellness, for a dress or an event, or not at all, is okay, as long as it’s my rooted in my own perceptions about my body.

So, as I pack a gym bag and prepare to work out in the am, I feel empowered knowing that I am taking charge of an aspect of my life that I have relinquished control of for so long.  I will also, head downstairs to eat a handful of those chocolate chip cookies that my daughter made from buttery scratch  with no guilt, because that’s how I feel today….   #dontjudgemebecausefoodislife.

Keep Living Your Best Life, one step at a time!


Naturally Na