Inside Out Beauty

Have you every stopped to marvel at the beauty of a flower? I mean just really appreciated the petals, the color and the stem and how it all worked together?




Have you ever, stopped and marveled at the bud that did not bloom and recognize it's potential beauty? Realizing that ultimately what's beautiful on the outside, gots to be beautiful on the inside. ... And what's beautiful on the inside gots to be beautiful on the outside.




So me and CQP have been beefing. He has been getting under my skin. Partly because he ain't hearing me and he's dyslexic when it comes to understanding texts. And partly because he is finally seeing me. Or maybe he has seen me before and was just pussyfooting around the issue. Kinda like I had been doing with Safeway. Seeing the Elephant and acting like it was a kitten. Some things cannot be sidestepped...some things have to be addressed...some things cannot be sugar coated....some things you have to just spit them out the best way that you know how and let the pieces and the hurt lay where they may fall.... some things you can't apologize for and some things you have to let go, no matter how much they hurt you.




Most of CQP questions are trivial gum drop questions...questions that just fill up the empty space and allows me to work on my standup. But there has been one question that he often poses to me that I have ignored because it was the comfortable thing to do. To answer it would cause me to look deep within because none of my surface okey doke answers would do, not for him and not for me.



Why do I fight myself and hold on to the things that cause me the most pain...(of course you know these ain't his words..)



This question has bothered me, it has nagged at my soul. Because it has the ability of exposing me for the lil' lost girl that I really am. It had the ability of collapsing not only my walls but sinking my foundation. (yeah that I was supposed to be revamping anyways)



But I want this. I want a do-over. I want to erase all the negativity that is embedded in my heart, mind and soul. I want to take back contol over my vessel. I want this even if I can not verbally express it or emotionally show it. I am so tired of feeling the sorrow of the world. So tired of bleeding invisible blood. So tired of second-guessing the best friend I have ever known: ME.




So today, a day after my Granddaddy's birthday and four days before mine, I have decided to let the world me really see what beauty I possess on the inside. I have found that I hide behind a lot of things: books, wit, glasses, work, drive, pain, sorrow, drama, big clothes, etc. But the biggest thing that I have hid behind has been my hair.


My hair has been the cause of much joy but also much pain. I remember being at Six Flags with a fresh press out. I remember my parents admonishing me about working too big of a sweat, 'I didn't want my hair to turn back.' I remember not being able to get on the water rides because 'I didn't want my hair to turn back.' I remember when the sky opened up without a moment's notice and it started to unleash gallons and gallons of water on the screaming and scampering thrill seekers. I remember my brothers racing to a nearby stand to grab a bag for my hair because 'I didn't want my hair to turn back.' I remember racing to the car and getting in the car and taking off the bag and laughing...My hair had not only turned back, it looked like I was first generation African. I also remembered wondering, when had I voiced that I didn't like my hair the way it was.


I didn't like the pressing comb. My mother always burned my ear and my head when she pressed it. It took all day and only lasted 15 minutes. I didn't like relaxers because they left scabs in my head because I was always scratching my head, even as the goob was getting applied to my head. And then, my mother was always finding someone to do my hair in their "home shop" and when my hair fell out the next day, she would understand why that person did hair in their home and not IN a shop. In high school my mother made me get my hair done every week because she always said my hair looked a hot mess...and I'm sure it did...but it was my hot mess. I always got accolades from both sexes when my Do was just right. I always felt good when the Indians were not just on the tips, but could be seen throughout my head. I am not sure when I started determining my beauty based on my hair, its texture, and its length...but it happened.

I have been wanting to start-over for a long time...especially with my hair. It is currently falling out due to my too blessed to be stressed, stress. I have wanted to stop the relaxers because I am tired of getting a touch-up every five weeks. I am tired of being a prisoner to my fears. I am tired of having my self-worth and beauty determined by superficial things. I am tired of being afraid to start over. I am sick and tired of being sick and tired. I have never been much of a 'talker' I have been a doer.. and for a minute I have been going back and forth about this hair thing. I have been telling everyone that I want a do-over...then I have set back and listened to what all the naysayers have said...


Well last time I checked, them same haters told me that I couldn't be the 1st Black valedictorian in my high school, told me that I could not make it on my own, told me that I could not do law school as a single parent, told me that I wasn't beautiful because I wasn't light, didn't have straight feet, white teeth, didn't have really long hair, didn't have a big butt (but i really did used to have a dunk..i did) and well to them haters I say:


Look at me now,










Now that I ain't gots no hair (smile) maybe you too can finally see the beauty that lies within me that has been so wrapped in this protective bud, also lies on the outside. (now let me go straighten my wig)



"I have been waiting for my do-over; today, I realize that I really had been waiting in vain because all I had to do to get a fresh start was to allow my bud to open up and blossom."

~ Gotta Luv Moi, Cuz I Surely Do (Smooches)

CQP: the answer is because I felt they defined me and determined my worth...was a testament to how strong I was...what I could endure...like battle wounds,scars. Gave me street cred...It was all that I had to hang my hat on...but no more, I am now in control of the ink that will memorialize the rest of this crazy journey...you welcome to come along for the ride.

i plan to get caught up on everyone's blogs this weekend so please excuse the late comments