SAVE THE MODEL, SAVE THE WORLD!

WTF!?!

I feel funny – like something bad has happened to me, but I don’t know what. I think I’m actually disgusted. Yes, that would be a good description for my emotion. Lemme explain:

I sang last night. Personally I felt it was mediocre, but a good source tells me I have improved since my first performance – M’kay. I can live. Only onwards and upwards I say. I’m pretty stoked for the next performance because I think I can lay down some ground works for pretty stellar stuff. Watch this space hombres!

In celebration of said performance, I went to Ftv – as one usually does on a Wednesday. You know, to break the monotony of the work week, have a drink without people looking at you like you need to pay to talk to someone etc.

Ftv on a Wednesday also happens to be model night. I have nothing against it, because really at the end of the day some of the ‘models’ up in that piece seriously need to reevaluate claiming that profession. So, gussied up, gut sucked in, I prepared to schmooze with the best of the schmoozers.

It’s amazing how being labeled as something ‘special’ makes some people feel entitled to act as bona fide as*h*l*s! Do we not arrive at the VIP and try to sit down before some human rendition of a stick insect shoo’s us like the well fed individuals we were.

a) Why would anyone just walk up to VIP, past the bouncers and try to cop a squat if they were not allowed!?!

b) Not all of us were going to sit there. Besides how much couch does all of a 2cm girth need?

And then after ‘Shoo-gate’, do I not see another emaciated stick figure writhing on the floor – and this is what they call dancing? She was joined by a friend, and I’m actually quite surprised they didn’t start a fire!

I think there should be rules about gyrating in a club. The GyroPolice should arrest you if

a) The world can see your broeks

b) Normal women look at you and their facial expressions flip-flop between awe and disgust.

I mean hey, who doesn’t want a tall dark and handsome male model checking them out, but literally selling your wares is not the way to go…can we all say LA-DY.

Goodness! I was offended in the way an ‘aunt’ would be after seeing her friend’s daughter gallivanting in an unsavory manner. I wanted to go up to them and say “HAYI, hayi, hayi! Ani namahloni! No skaam at all!

These girls are beautiful, they get PAID for looking the way they do, and yet need permeates through their pores! I was disgusted, now in retrospect, I’m just sad. I’m as insecure and neurotic as the next person, even more so, but I think for right now, my self esteem is good!

Ladies, don’t beat yourself up. Don’t denigrate yourselves. Don’t put each other down. Encourage confidence – you never know when someone might think of you as a super role model.

DOUBLE STANDARD?

On my way into work this morning, I saw a very scary dreadlocked fellow wearing highly reflective aviators, standing on the side of the road – the dreadlocks were scary, the aviators were scary – it was just an all-round horrorfest – not a good start to the day – who needs coffee when people can just scare you awake by looking hideous!

Anywho…

He wasn’t a bergie, he was one of those Men On the Side of the Road fellows – you know, they mill about robots in the morning, and then they pile into a bakkie, go do manual labor, be it painting, gardening, more milling but now at your house, for the day and then go home.

Naturally I trivialize their intent and purpose, but it’s purely for arguments sake. I’m sure they’re elevating and finding, and more power to them. But this got me thinking for a split second.

How come ‘Women on the Side of the Road’ are destined to be shunned by society (and sadly me), but men are commended for fighting the good fight?

Technically both sell their bodies (in way). Although manual labor can hardly be compared to performing sexual acts for money – although with some men out there, manual labour would be an understatement.

This sight and then in turn the thought, just made me realize that

a) We’re so quick to pass judgment

b) Some double standards are so ingrained in our minds that we don’t recognize them for what they are.

So now I think, I’m going to be a little more conscientious about what I’m thinking, and just monitor my reactions – not be so quick to shoot off the cuff.

It was something I wanted to share… give you food for thought!

FOCUS

As I nom on a TV Bar (which incidentally is not a very nice chocolate in my opinion, but all I have) I count down the days until Monday and then Wednesday.

Monday is the day I return to the gym, start my new and improved meal plan and proceed to lose another 10 kilos for my next weigh in. It’s going to be tough! It’s going to be fantastic! I’m beside myself with anticipation. Imagine, me, looking forward to pain sparking through my muscles as I push through yet another minute on the elliptical machine. It’s a brand new day I tell you! A brand new day!

Wednesday is my performance – the second ever, and this time I would like to give more of a show. My first performance was good, because:
a) nobody had ever heard me sing before
b) I managed to get through a poem and a song with minimal audible mistakes
c) I was so nervous I’ve blocked it out

But I’d like to be more…well more! I want to be that singer where people say ‘WOW! Now there’s a girl with something. If she keeps it up, she’ll be a star.’

And then I look at a picture of said last performance. It really doesn’t conjure up any awe…of any level…whatsoever. The diva hall of fame closes it’s doors and tisk derisively just thinking about it! I. Look. Hideous. But more than that, I can see the confidence I lack in myself. It’s discouraging, but something I will have to work through.

I’m really trying to carve an image, but with the smut we rub our eyes in, I feel – well I know, I have a long way to go!

I don’t want to be relegated to the sad Fatties Corner of ‘great singers’ or ‘jazz legends’ yet I don’t know how to console myself with the fact that I’ll never really be in the mediocre ‘talentless but hot’ stable either.

If I could, I would belt like J-Hud AND have the ‘bootylicous’ bod of Bey-Bey but alas, neither is my fate. I have to be happy with what the man upstairs bestowed upon me – but it makes me wonder: WHAT WAS HE THINKING?!?!

How could He have sprinkled this need in me, and then made the means and ends so seemingly insurmountable? I guess it’s an answer I’ll only ever get when I march through the pearly gates and ask the main man Himself.

Until then, I’ll just have to keep on keeping on. Hopefully, since I’m aiming for the moon, the stars I land in will be tote-awes-spesh!

STRIKE A POSE

I did some stretching last night – yay!

By stretching I mean I was basically lying about – oh.

I can’t wait to go back to do some intense training. Lawdy! My body actually misses that feeling of ‘oh yeah! I totally rocked the treadmill!’

I am feeling slightly blah, especially about the fact that I’ve gained 2KG – whole ones! EEEEmuthafrickingK! Which puts me BACK in the triple digits, but I figured one week of intervals and proper food, I’ll be back on track.

SIDE NOTE: I’ve been looking at some pictures of…who else but moi, and I’ve decided I NEED to find a new pose – at least one with which to alternate my current one – I like it, it works, tried, tested and true is best, but dang! I’m feeling a little bit like a one trick pony.

The only problem is my face doesn’t look cute pouting, I can’t wink, and a ‘yeah’ open mouth just makes me look hungry. Any candid shots are touch and go…some are good, most are hideous – me looking like a scary fat black girl - This look is only good on a Jerry Springer stage while fighting a no good jail bird baby father’s other baby momma – this image doesn’t make me think Vogue Cover Girl.

What to do? What to do?

LASHING OUT

OK, so I haven’t been to the gym in a minute… but I have my reasons. Next week I’ll be treadmilling like a demon that’s how on it is!

But I digress.

In my sadly sincere effort to evade exercise – I dropped my ‘quest for fabulosity’ ball. The weight losing was a plan to achieve overall fabulousness and ultimate hotness but I was so unmotivated I couldn’t even climb the stairs to my flat… eek.

Side note: People get really offended when you take the elevator up to the first floor. They practically froth at the mouth and bay for your blood when you take the elevator down. I’m like, if you’re so fit… why don’t you traipse up the five flights to your hovel mmmh? I look like I can hardly manage rolling around on level ground never mind climbing… anything! Leave me and my elevator-taking fat self alone!

Inhale. Exhale. Let’s talk about something else…

As I was saying, my weight loss was a long term goal, I needed an instant boost. You know, that certain something guaranteed to add a little sparkle to your person. That something that makes you step with pizzazz and ‘errythang ain’t nothin’ but a chicken wing’ – you could even lose your job and it wouldn’t matter… why? Cause you look fly! (OK, perhaps losing your job would depress you, but you know the feeling I’m trying to invoke).

For me, that something is makeup! It’s silly because I’m not a girlie-girl per say, but I go ape for that ish! Trust. There’s nothing like the perfect concealer-base-bronzer-blush combo. And for me the pièce de résistance… FALSE EYELASHES!

I suffer a genetic predisposition of nonexistent lashes so when I put on a set of fake ones… I am transformed! But you’d think I’d had a face transplant with the response I received. Complements, but sheesh… it makes me wonder what people thought of me before.

More importantly what message was I putting out if people gawk at my lashed up makeover… one guy even commented on my ‘barbie-eye get up’ – Accusation? Complement? I don’t know… but like I said I looked fly!

They say the eyes are the windows of the soul… then eyelashes must be the curtains. But goodness, what have my curtains been saying about my soul… all this time! I shudder to think. Now I know my tray of faux lashes are probably deluxe floor to ceiling upgrades from the shabby plastic blinds G*d gave me – and I’m liking the spirit of trying and embracing new things.

So, being a D.I.T – Diva in Training, I will lash away – individual ones too!


At least I know I clean up real nice :)

AH...MEN

This ish is just too dang ridiculous… it’s got me bloggin like a demon on a Friday afternoon! **SMH**

I [after various glaringly obvious hintings from a couple of people in my social circle] decided that it was perhaps time to start entertaining gentlemen callers...

This was going to be fantastic, I thought. So I’d kiss a couple of frogs before my Prince Charming, swooped down to rescue me. He’d be tall, dark and dashing, sans white horse and shining amour… but a white Bentley and a shining Rolex perhaps? Oh, this was going to be a piece of cake!

Little did I know that the cake I was getting was a stupid-ass, crusty, tough, dodge old piece of cake! Hideous… to say the least. Let me explain:

1. Your stupidity does NOT endear me to you!

If you have a stupid thought - keep it to your damn self. I don’t want to be put in the awkward situation of having to tell that you’re stupid…and I will if I’m pushed…trust! When you say something stupid, I don’t think ‘Hehe, hey! Here’s a man with whom I’d like to spend the rest of my life’. NO! I think ‘Good lawd! This n*g*a just said some dumb-ass ish!’ And no amount of F-I-N-E fine is going to save your stupid ass…stupid does as stupid is!

2. Keep your crazy on lock-down!

If I’m in your flat… you’re half way there buddy! So… now would be a good time to take all the crazy you’ve been storing in yourself, and bury in some deep dark crevice where it won’t be able to come out and scare the crap out of me! It is not cute. I will think ‘OMG, he’s gonna give me crazy babies… and you can’t deny crazy babies. A crazy man you can say… I don’t know that fool – he crazy! But a crazy child – ain’t nothing on this planet you can do to get away from that! So, if you think it’s cool to be psychotic… don’t lemme know. S’cool. I’m good!

3. Buy airtime!

Minutes. Credit. Whatever you call it, GET IT! How you going to mack me with a Please Call me??? What kind of wack-ass game is that! I know folks been going through a hard time what with the recession and just bad money skills and all – shoot I even got to think twice before calling somebody. But when you see a girl, and you like her, or you just want to fiddle with her girlie bits… start saving if you have to… at least for a text!

4. If you like wrestling… STOP!

No grown man should like that ish! I have nothing more to say on the matter…well, I too have been sucked into the body-slamming world of the Undertaker. I’ve asked friends if they could smell what The Rock was cooking, but it was 1996 and I was 12. Now that I’m a registered tax payer… no more! I’m just saying.

Sheesh! Who would have thought… one month, a couple of dudes later and already I’m reeling from so much admin! It’s so hard out there single ladies… if these slim pickings are the norm... I might just ask my daddy to put me up for auction… bidding starts at 1 cow!

Anybody?

At all?

WHY SHOULD I FEEL DISCOURAGED...

...and why should the shadows come?

Heartbreak is the feeling wrecking havoc through my emotions today. I don’t usually do woebegone, but I’m just finding it very hard to fight the good fight right about now.

I feel like I take ten steps forward and a million steps back. Every thing I do is so ineffectual – and I’m a bit lost in the trees I can’t see, for the forest I know is there.

I try to work hard, but have nothing to show for it.
I exercise, but the weight piles on.
I engage, but substance is lacking.
I smile, but tears are almost always on the brink.

I say something has got to give…but what, who, where and when?

Do I give up and accept that perhaps “there is nothing special about me”…I’m not even “a little star”? Do I 'real up' and acknowledge I haven’t been chosen to claim the ‘ungetable get’ as my own?

My life is what’s going to happen to my dream deferred, so I shouldn’t be afraid of it. I won’t dry up like a raisin in the sun. Maybe just sag like a heavy load – so heavy.

It’s this thought that saddens me beyond explication, because all I want to do right now is…explode!

I think of the places I haven’t yet been, the people I haven’t yet meet, the love I haven’t yet felt, the songs I haven’t yet sung, and I just realize I’m just going to have to work extra hard to keep those shadows at bay - if I don’t, they’ll consume me.

Music is my portion, and what a constant friend it is.
I sing to make me happy.
I sing to make me free.
It’s then I know His eye is on me.
And I know he’s watching over me!

And if there’s one thing I know for certain, it’s that I’ll never let myself live a mediocre life –

which leaves only extraordinary for me!