1) I am deathly afraid of crackheads and anyone who is “too” high.
2.) I feel like melting when people touch me uninvited.
3.) I usually envision myself stabbing these same people right before I melt.
4.) I want a personal assistant so that I can make him/her pick out all of the green gummi bears for me to eat. The green ones are the yummiest!
5.) I once bit an ex on the lip so badly that he needed 11 stitches. (no means no, boys!)
6.) I have three VERY close friends and I make it a point to not tell any one of them EVERY thing. They each know bits and pieces. One may know my motive for the killings, the other one knows the method by which I did the killings and the other knows of the time of the killings, but NO ONE knows where the bodies are buried.
7.) These 3 close friends? Yea, I don’t allow them to interact with one another! Lol
8.) The day after an argument with an ex, I took all of the remote controls with me to work and changed the channel to 800 and something while he was asleep. I also took all of the phone cords and put a password lock on the computer. (If I’m not ok, you sir, are NOT ok)
9.) I believe I am slightly psychic. Sometimes I just know things with no real clue how I know them.
10.) I long for the day when they make a chip-less chocolate chip cookie. No, sugar cookies are NOT the same thing. I want the dough of the cc cookie sans chips dammit!
11.) I can only eat the 9 or 10 slices of bread located in the dead middle of the loaf.
12.) I absolutely LOVE the scent of baby powder.
13.) I am an only child even though I have four sisters.
14.) I cried when Torres’ car got blown up in New York Undercover. It STILL brings me to tears. They ain’t even have to do him like that.
15.) I can play 3 Blind Mice on the flute, yet I don’t recall ever learning this.
16.) I sometimes have to remind myself that I am grown and therefore can do what I want. (i.e., have ice cream for lunch)
17.) Hearing the p-word used to label a woman’s “lady parts” used to make me cringe. Now I am forcing myself to get over it by saying the word as often as possible. (IDK why)
18.) I recently hosted an episode of “To Catch a Cheater” at my house with a lying ex and his girlfriend. Dude was NOT happy! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!
19.) I the cause of a guy’s trip to the ER due to a broken appendage. He still walks kinda funny. . .
20.) I started cooking when I was about 6 or 7 and my sister actually ate my creations.
21.) I have fantastic investigative skills
22.) My son and I (unintentionally) have exactly the same amount of letters in our names (First-5, Middle-8, Last-11, Total-24)
23.) I’m running out of random PG-13 things to share with you guys
24.) I didn’t vote for Barack because he’s black. I voted for him because his WIFE is!
25.) I hold my farts in during the day and let them out when I’, asleep. (or so I’ve been told) lol
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
I think my heart just exploded
Mr. Big just changd his facebook status to "In a Relationship".
It's been exactly one week since he thought "we need some space".
Ouch.
It's been exactly one week since he thought "we need some space".
Ouch.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Enigma & Mr. Big: Break-Up #1 of 1,650,880,540
Mr. Big and I continued to talk and get to know one another as the months passed and before long we made it official. I was living at home with my mother at the time and once my semester was over I realized that she and I could no longer co-exist peacefully. We definitely needed space. My oldest sister lived in East Bumblefuck, GA and was due to give birth to my nephew at any minute. I saw this as the perfect chance to put some distance between myself and my menopausal ass mother. Another one of my sister’s had just been STRONGLY “encouraged” by her doctor to take a much needed hiatus form her job, so she, myself and my child made plans to head south.
As expected, I felt some hesitation at leaving my newly blossoming relationship, but I had spent a greater part of my previous relationship catering to the wants and needs of the very guys that had broke my heart, so this time around, I was going to do what made ME happy and whomever I was with would just need to fall in line or roll the fuck out. To my delight, Mr. Big chose to fall in line.
We discussed my departure at length, the summer was just starting and I made it a point to let him know that if he felt he couldn’t keep the snake in the cage while I was gone, he should just let me know and we could call the whole thing off. He assured me that a few weeks was nothing and he’d be here waiting when I returned. *swoon*
Mr. Big and I talked on the phone several times a day every day while I was gone. Everything seemed fine until they clearly weren’t anymore. I asked him about the vibe change that I was feeling. I can remember the conversation just as clearly as if it just happened yesterday. I was standing on my sister’s balcony looking at the remains of a tree that had been struck by lightening in a thunderstorm just the day before. My newborn nephew had been home from the hospital for just a few days and I was in the process of making his bottles when Mr. Big had called, so I still had the spoon in my hand that I’d used to fish out the nipples from the boiling water.
I focused all of my attention and energy on that burned up tree trunk as he told me about how his kids’ mother had been going hard at trying to get him back. He then paused and let out a loud exasperated sigh. To this I responded, and it’s working. Not a question, more like just the obviously outcome. Love had never worked out for me before, so I had become used to the fact that it never would-no matter how right it seemed to feel. He said yes and we said our goodbyes. That was the end of me and Mr. Big.
A few days later I received a call from my financial aid advisor at my school telling me that they had not received a signed form indicating that I was accepting my financial aid package for the upcoming semester. After being told that this was something I would have to do in person and fax would not suffice, I booked a flight home to handle my business. Being that I was only going to be gone for a day or two, I left my son with my sisters and hopped flew home.
I was able to get my business at the school handled in less than 30 minutes and then realized that I was home and baby-free for the first time in awhile—time to get BUCKWILD. Lol I called up an older gentleman friend of mine who did the best magic tricks I’d ever seen- he could make the liquor in my cup appear again and again without me ever having to even think about my wallet! Lol He picked me up that night and we headed to the same bar in which I’d met Mr. Big. Now, let me be clear, the night that he and I went was in the middle of the week. The bar had more of a happy hour after work feel to it the night we went as opposed to the “Thug Night” extravaganza that it had a reputation for being on the weekends. So never in my mind did I think we’d run into Mr. Big there. But . . . we did. Older gentleman and I had been at the bar for all of 30 minutes when I got up to use the ladies room. It was on my way back to my seat that I noticed Mr. Big’s best friend sitting just a few stools down and right beside him. . . . yep, Mr. Big. Now though he and I were no longer together, and for all intents and purposes, he broke up with me, part of me felt guilty for being there. Or at least I did until he made a big show of sending some floozy across from me a drink to get my attention.
Done with the games, I whispered in my older gentleman friend’s ear that I was ready to get out of there and he and I made our way to the exit. He dropped me off home soon after and I could not get Mr. Big off of my mind. For some reason I was extremely concerned that he would think that I’d been seeing this guy while he and I were together and that was the farthest from the truth. I tried to fight it, but the urge to call him was too strong. So I did. But, forever a game player, I hung up after only letting the phone ring twice-just long enough so that my number would show on his cell’s caller id. My thinking was that if he wanted to talk, he’d call back, if not. . . .I never got a chance to finish that thought because my ringing phone interrupted it.
I could tell right away that he was tight. So I said the only thing that I could really think of, which was the God’s honest truth. “I called you because I wanted you to know that he bought me home and that’s it.” I could hear him loosen up on the other end of the phone. He then went on to tell me how angry he felt seeing me with someone else. He said his friend kept looking at him weird as hell because he’d never seen Mr. Big loose his cool over a female like that-ever. I told him how I didn’t expect him to be there and I didn’t go there to rub anything in his face. We both laughed when he replied ‘Well, I damn sure sent that drink to rub it in your face”. I asked what he was doing and he said he was at the all-night supermarket buying cereal and that he was coming to me as soon as he left there. I didn’t protest.
I’d been sitting in my dark living room while was talking to him, and still hadn’t made a move to turn on the lights or the television by the time he’d gotten there. I let him into the darkness and sat on the couch. He was still standing up trying to let his eyes adjust when something animalistic* came over me. I absolutely had to taste him. We had had sex many times since that first night, but I had had yet to open up too much sexually with him. I felt myself losing control as I reached for his belt buckle and undress him. I couldn’t stop myself. Once I pulled his pants down, I just sat back and admired the outline of his legs in the darkness. He had the most perfectly toned legs I’d ever seen. I moved in closer to him and just inhaled. I couldn’t believe that I was actually turned on by the sheer essence of him. I finally fulfilled the desire to taste him and we then made love on my mother’s couch. I can honestly say that from that night on. . . I was hooked.
As expected, I felt some hesitation at leaving my newly blossoming relationship, but I had spent a greater part of my previous relationship catering to the wants and needs of the very guys that had broke my heart, so this time around, I was going to do what made ME happy and whomever I was with would just need to fall in line or roll the fuck out. To my delight, Mr. Big chose to fall in line.
We discussed my departure at length, the summer was just starting and I made it a point to let him know that if he felt he couldn’t keep the snake in the cage while I was gone, he should just let me know and we could call the whole thing off. He assured me that a few weeks was nothing and he’d be here waiting when I returned. *swoon*
Mr. Big and I talked on the phone several times a day every day while I was gone. Everything seemed fine until they clearly weren’t anymore. I asked him about the vibe change that I was feeling. I can remember the conversation just as clearly as if it just happened yesterday. I was standing on my sister’s balcony looking at the remains of a tree that had been struck by lightening in a thunderstorm just the day before. My newborn nephew had been home from the hospital for just a few days and I was in the process of making his bottles when Mr. Big had called, so I still had the spoon in my hand that I’d used to fish out the nipples from the boiling water.
I focused all of my attention and energy on that burned up tree trunk as he told me about how his kids’ mother had been going hard at trying to get him back. He then paused and let out a loud exasperated sigh. To this I responded, and it’s working. Not a question, more like just the obviously outcome. Love had never worked out for me before, so I had become used to the fact that it never would-no matter how right it seemed to feel. He said yes and we said our goodbyes. That was the end of me and Mr. Big.
A few days later I received a call from my financial aid advisor at my school telling me that they had not received a signed form indicating that I was accepting my financial aid package for the upcoming semester. After being told that this was something I would have to do in person and fax would not suffice, I booked a flight home to handle my business. Being that I was only going to be gone for a day or two, I left my son with my sisters and hopped flew home.
I was able to get my business at the school handled in less than 30 minutes and then realized that I was home and baby-free for the first time in awhile—time to get BUCKWILD. Lol I called up an older gentleman friend of mine who did the best magic tricks I’d ever seen- he could make the liquor in my cup appear again and again without me ever having to even think about my wallet! Lol He picked me up that night and we headed to the same bar in which I’d met Mr. Big. Now, let me be clear, the night that he and I went was in the middle of the week. The bar had more of a happy hour after work feel to it the night we went as opposed to the “Thug Night” extravaganza that it had a reputation for being on the weekends. So never in my mind did I think we’d run into Mr. Big there. But . . . we did. Older gentleman and I had been at the bar for all of 30 minutes when I got up to use the ladies room. It was on my way back to my seat that I noticed Mr. Big’s best friend sitting just a few stools down and right beside him. . . . yep, Mr. Big. Now though he and I were no longer together, and for all intents and purposes, he broke up with me, part of me felt guilty for being there. Or at least I did until he made a big show of sending some floozy across from me a drink to get my attention.
Done with the games, I whispered in my older gentleman friend’s ear that I was ready to get out of there and he and I made our way to the exit. He dropped me off home soon after and I could not get Mr. Big off of my mind. For some reason I was extremely concerned that he would think that I’d been seeing this guy while he and I were together and that was the farthest from the truth. I tried to fight it, but the urge to call him was too strong. So I did. But, forever a game player, I hung up after only letting the phone ring twice-just long enough so that my number would show on his cell’s caller id. My thinking was that if he wanted to talk, he’d call back, if not. . . .I never got a chance to finish that thought because my ringing phone interrupted it.
I could tell right away that he was tight. So I said the only thing that I could really think of, which was the God’s honest truth. “I called you because I wanted you to know that he bought me home and that’s it.” I could hear him loosen up on the other end of the phone. He then went on to tell me how angry he felt seeing me with someone else. He said his friend kept looking at him weird as hell because he’d never seen Mr. Big loose his cool over a female like that-ever. I told him how I didn’t expect him to be there and I didn’t go there to rub anything in his face. We both laughed when he replied ‘Well, I damn sure sent that drink to rub it in your face”. I asked what he was doing and he said he was at the all-night supermarket buying cereal and that he was coming to me as soon as he left there. I didn’t protest.
I’d been sitting in my dark living room while was talking to him, and still hadn’t made a move to turn on the lights or the television by the time he’d gotten there. I let him into the darkness and sat on the couch. He was still standing up trying to let his eyes adjust when something animalistic* came over me. I absolutely had to taste him. We had had sex many times since that first night, but I had had yet to open up too much sexually with him. I felt myself losing control as I reached for his belt buckle and undress him. I couldn’t stop myself. Once I pulled his pants down, I just sat back and admired the outline of his legs in the darkness. He had the most perfectly toned legs I’d ever seen. I moved in closer to him and just inhaled. I couldn’t believe that I was actually turned on by the sheer essence of him. I finally fulfilled the desire to taste him and we then made love on my mother’s couch. I can honestly say that from that night on. . . I was hooked.
* In hindsight, I'm thinking that maybe, just maybe, the animal in me was coaxed out by those shots of henny I'd had at the bar just a few short hrs ago! lol
Sunday, February 22, 2009
And I wish I never met him. . . .
*Written for Myspace January 9, 2007
I'm not sure if it's the knowledge that the dreaded Valentine 's Day is but a mere month or so away and I have yet to secure a patsy or that it is one of the few things noticeably absent from my comfortable, almost-perfect life right now. But whatever the reason, LOVE has been on my mind more than usual these days.
Now I'm not talking about the LOVE I reserve for my child, my Mom and my friends and family. I'm talking about that I-cry-when-you-hurt LOVE. That let's –run-our-errands-together-cause-we-don't-wanna-be-apart-for-too-long LOVE. You know . . . ROMANTIC LOVE.
Now, as I mentioned, currently my LOVE life leaves much to be desired (oh,don't cry for me Argentina, my sex life, however, is alive and kicking!). But, I've been decidedly out of LOVE for a little over 5 months now. The crazy thing is that despite the nasty, heart wrenching break-up, I never thought that I regretted the relationship. It was hands down the best relationship that I'd ever been in. In fact, if there is such a thing as a soul mate or a true LOVE, I know that my ex was/(is?) that person. It is for that reason that I was grateful for having even met him. So much so that during a rough patch in our two year relationship, instead of bitching and moaning about what a f*ck up he was, I wrote in my journal and thanked God for allowing me to have met my soul mate, even knowing at the time the he and I would not spend our lives together.
At that time and even for a brief time following our break-up, I truly believe that it was better to have LOVED and lost then to have never LOVED at all. Now I could sit here and write paragraphs and pages about how enchanted our relationship was but, honestly, I feel that doing so would only bastardize what we had. But what I will share is that my ex is the one person that truly knows me and not one of my many representatives and characters that I use to communicate with those around me. He knows Enigma, not hood-Enigma, or college-girl Enigma or the fully-loaded, I-don't-give-a-f*ck -Enigma . . . that man knows ME. All of my many faults and weaknesses that I guard from the world, he knows - and at one point in time he loved, accepted, understood, and could relate to them all.
It was my belief that just knowing that there was one person in this world who really, truly knew me . . . and LOVED me . . . unconditionally . . . despite my imperfections . . . was enough for me. Just having had the opportunity to experience a LOVE and connection of that caliber with someone was all that I needed. That is, until the days turned to nights, and the nights turned cold and then the parade of clowns started to plague my Friday evenings. Anyone who's been there knows that the dating scene in itself sucks. But to feel as if you're wasting your time looking for Mr. Right because you've already met him, and lost him.. .it's hard to not be discouraged.
On one hand, I now know that there is such a thing as a "true LOVE". But, on the other hand, as I lay in my bed alone at night I know what I'm missing. I know that my "soul mate" is out there, he's just not with me and he and I will never be together. Is it any wonder that sometimes I wish that I didn't know? That I didn't have the memories of our time together seared into my brain?
It's not possible to miss something that you don't know exists, but is it really possible to truly exist when you miss something so much? Is it really better to have LOVED and lost than it is to have never LOVED at all?
I'm not sure if it's the knowledge that the dreaded Valentine 's Day is but a mere month or so away and I have yet to secure a patsy or that it is one of the few things noticeably absent from my comfortable, almost-perfect life right now. But whatever the reason, LOVE has been on my mind more than usual these days.
Now I'm not talking about the LOVE I reserve for my child, my Mom and my friends and family. I'm talking about that I-cry-when-you-hurt LOVE. That let's –run-our-errands-together-cause-we-don't-wanna-be-apart-for-too-long LOVE. You know . . . ROMANTIC LOVE.
Now, as I mentioned, currently my LOVE life leaves much to be desired (oh,don't cry for me Argentina, my sex life, however, is alive and kicking!). But, I've been decidedly out of LOVE for a little over 5 months now. The crazy thing is that despite the nasty, heart wrenching break-up, I never thought that I regretted the relationship. It was hands down the best relationship that I'd ever been in. In fact, if there is such a thing as a soul mate or a true LOVE, I know that my ex was/(is?) that person. It is for that reason that I was grateful for having even met him. So much so that during a rough patch in our two year relationship, instead of bitching and moaning about what a f*ck up he was, I wrote in my journal and thanked God for allowing me to have met my soul mate, even knowing at the time the he and I would not spend our lives together.
At that time and even for a brief time following our break-up, I truly believe that it was better to have LOVED and lost then to have never LOVED at all. Now I could sit here and write paragraphs and pages about how enchanted our relationship was but, honestly, I feel that doing so would only bastardize what we had. But what I will share is that my ex is the one person that truly knows me and not one of my many representatives and characters that I use to communicate with those around me. He knows Enigma, not hood-Enigma, or college-girl Enigma or the fully-loaded, I-don't-give-a-f*ck -Enigma . . . that man knows ME. All of my many faults and weaknesses that I guard from the world, he knows - and at one point in time he loved, accepted, understood, and could relate to them all.
It was my belief that just knowing that there was one person in this world who really, truly knew me . . . and LOVED me . . . unconditionally . . . despite my imperfections . . . was enough for me. Just having had the opportunity to experience a LOVE and connection of that caliber with someone was all that I needed. That is, until the days turned to nights, and the nights turned cold and then the parade of clowns started to plague my Friday evenings. Anyone who's been there knows that the dating scene in itself sucks. But to feel as if you're wasting your time looking for Mr. Right because you've already met him, and lost him.. .it's hard to not be discouraged.
On one hand, I now know that there is such a thing as a "true LOVE". But, on the other hand, as I lay in my bed alone at night I know what I'm missing. I know that my "soul mate" is out there, he's just not with me and he and I will never be together. Is it any wonder that sometimes I wish that I didn't know? That I didn't have the memories of our time together seared into my brain?
It's not possible to miss something that you don't know exists, but is it really possible to truly exist when you miss something so much? Is it really better to have LOVED and lost than it is to have never LOVED at all?
Black Pain
I am depressed (according to the clinical definition)and I have been for as long as I can remember. The sad part is, I did not realize it until last January. At the time, my oldest sister was working at a hospital and got invited to a seminar for Black Health Care Professionals. Since she knew I was having a hard time trying to decide what to go to grad school for, (and since it was at Sylvia’s Soul Food restaurant), she took me along.
One of the speakers there was a social worker turned public relations agent named Terrie M. Williams. Besides speaking, she was also there selling her latest book, Black Pain: It Just Looks Like We’re Not Hurting. Words cannot explain how much this book has touched me. I have never been the self-help book type, but this one right here hit so close to home that I had to share it with others.
The main focus of the book is how black people don’t address the depression or pain we may be feeling within because it is not allowed in our culture. We’re just supposed to “deal with it”. Don’t agree? Think about the last time you heard some starlette was in the hospital for “exhaustion” and you’re reaction to it. Yea. If you’re anything like me, than you were thinking that it was some ‘ole bullshit! lol
Just to give you some insight as to what the book covers, here’s the chapter outline:
Foreword by Mary J. Blige
Foreword by Susan L. Taylor
Introduction: Black Blues
Chapter One: Depression: Not Killing us Softly
Chapter Two: I’m Not Your Superwoman: Overworked, Undervalued, and Under Pressure
Chapter Three: I Wish It Would rain: Black Men and Depression
Chapter Four: It’s A Hard Knock Life: The Young and the Depressed
Chapter Five: That’s What Friends Are For: How Loved Ones Can Help
Chapter Six: A Spiritual Hospital: The Black Church and Depression]
Chapter Seven: Don’t Snap Out of It!: Healing in Your Own Time
Chapter Eight: Oh, Lord, Please Don’t let Me Be Misunderstood: Can I Get a Diagnosis?
Chapter Nine: I Will Survive: Getting the Healing Done-Therapy, Medication,
Alternative Medicine, Exercise and Spirituality
A Final Word: Making A Way Out of No Way
If any of those titles strike a chord with you, I encourage you to get the book. It is definitely worth it. And don’t worry, the read is very easy, not the least bit clinically worded and there are several stories from artists and other stars sharing their stories.
Totally worth it.
For more information, you can visit her website.
One of the speakers there was a social worker turned public relations agent named Terrie M. Williams. Besides speaking, she was also there selling her latest book, Black Pain: It Just Looks Like We’re Not Hurting. Words cannot explain how much this book has touched me. I have never been the self-help book type, but this one right here hit so close to home that I had to share it with others.
The main focus of the book is how black people don’t address the depression or pain we may be feeling within because it is not allowed in our culture. We’re just supposed to “deal with it”. Don’t agree? Think about the last time you heard some starlette was in the hospital for “exhaustion” and you’re reaction to it. Yea. If you’re anything like me, than you were thinking that it was some ‘ole bullshit! lol
Just to give you some insight as to what the book covers, here’s the chapter outline:
Foreword by Mary J. Blige
Foreword by Susan L. Taylor
Introduction: Black Blues
Chapter One: Depression: Not Killing us Softly
Chapter Two: I’m Not Your Superwoman: Overworked, Undervalued, and Under Pressure
Chapter Three: I Wish It Would rain: Black Men and Depression
Chapter Four: It’s A Hard Knock Life: The Young and the Depressed
Chapter Five: That’s What Friends Are For: How Loved Ones Can Help
Chapter Six: A Spiritual Hospital: The Black Church and Depression]
Chapter Seven: Don’t Snap Out of It!: Healing in Your Own Time
Chapter Eight: Oh, Lord, Please Don’t let Me Be Misunderstood: Can I Get a Diagnosis?
Chapter Nine: I Will Survive: Getting the Healing Done-Therapy, Medication,
Alternative Medicine, Exercise and Spirituality
A Final Word: Making A Way Out of No Way
If any of those titles strike a chord with you, I encourage you to get the book. It is definitely worth it. And don’t worry, the read is very easy, not the least bit clinically worded and there are several stories from artists and other stars sharing their stories.
Totally worth it.
For more information, you can visit her website.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
It's really not what you think
*Written August 30, 2006 ( and still very relevant)
IT'S NOT THAT I'M INSECURE
It's just that I've been hurt and played so many times that I'm not willing to compromise myself anymore. Trust is something that you earn, and, until you do so, I have every right to label you and your actions as "suspect".
IT'S NOT THAT I'M A BITCH
IT'S NOT THAT I'M INSECURE
It's just that I've been hurt and played so many times that I'm not willing to compromise myself anymore. Trust is something that you earn, and, until you do so, I have every right to label you and your actions as "suspect".
IT'S NOT THAT I'M A BITCH
It's just that I have a very low tolerance for the games that some people play. I don't play games. I say what' s on my mind at all times and you can either take it for what it is, or pay me no mind One thing that you'll never be able to say about me is that you didn't know how I felt about you. Good or bad, I let you know.
IT'S NOT THAT I'M A TEASE
It's that I told you I wasn't gonna sleep with you when the night started, but you didn't believe me. I told you it wouldn't happen and yet you wanted to kiss and lick and suck and turn me on. I'm not a tease. I'm a woman with with morals, willpower, and a battery operated, disease/drama free buddy that I can pull out at any time.
IT'S NOT THAT I'M CONCEITED
It's just that I finally know what I'm worth. *Yes, I've always had an uppity attitude, but that was more my status as baby girl in my family than anything else.* But now, my arrogant air comes from me finally knowing what a commodity a woman like me is. I deserve more, and so I demand more. People either love me or hate me, no in between. And I'm cool with that.
It's just that I finally know what I'm worth. *Yes, I've always had an uppity attitude, but that was more my status as baby girl in my family than anything else.* But now, my arrogant air comes from me finally knowing what a commodity a woman like me is. I deserve more, and so I demand more. People either love me or hate me, no in between. And I'm cool with that.
IT'S NOT THAT I'M BITTER
It's just that I'm tired. Tired of being lied to, cheated on, bamboozled and led astray by these half-assed men who claim to be real. I don't regret anything or one from my past because everything/one has made me the person that I am today. And I love who I am right now. Do I hold all men accountable for the actions of one? No. But, I do expect for you to prove to me that your different. If your not willing to work to get me, you don't deserve to have me.
IT'S NOT THAT I WANT TO WEAR THE PANTS IN THE RELATIONSHIP
It's just that dealing with boys has made me have to be a stronger woman. I need a man who understands that my strength does not indicate his weakness. I need a man who is secure enough in his manhood to handle my take charge attitude and who is solid enough for me to let go and lean on him.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Yes, bitch, I told Harpo to beat you.
So, in light of the Rchriahhnais (what? not all power-couple name-splices are cute, ppl), I decided to dig in the crates back over on da S'pace and pull out a blog I wrote regarding domestic violence against woman. Now this was written May of '07 and I cannot say that my opinion on this has changed. Regarding Rchriahhnais specifically, I say that Chris Brown needs to be charged and get his ass wooped by a couple of men. I've played every scenerio in my head of what could have went down and each time he comes out looking like a big 'ole saggy, smelly pussy. (yes, I could have made p-word all pretty and put 5's instead of S's or something, but you will soon learn that this just isn't one of those blogs. Plus I am forcing myself to not be afraid of that word anymore.) But yea, he's a big 'ole douchebag. I'm saying, a backhand or something would have prolly sufficed to at least calm her down if she was wildin'. But 'ole boy waa-aa-aa-aaailed on dat ass! That shit just ain't right.
SMDH
Anywho, the blog is below and it features Mr. Big (he's the one I slapped, not the one I bit)
{Sidebar: Didn't that last sentence make me sound massive badass??? lol}
___________________________________________________________________________
Since the end of my semester I have had the thought of abusive relationships on my mind. I hesitated in blogging about it because I am fully aware of the fact that my view of some cases of physical abuse aren't the most popular. But then I realized. . .when have I ever given a damn about someone disagreeing with me????
Anywho, those who know me are already familar with my stance on men hitting women: It is absolutely wrong and bitch-like for a man to even think about beating a woman. And doing so should lead to him being confined to a tiny cell with a Big man who likes other men for a looong time. That being said. . .I don't buy into the whole "It's never right for a man to hit a woman. . .blah, blah, blah." shit
Say what you want about woman being smaller and weaker physically. . .but c'mon. . .some of these chicks are just begging to get hit. {Sidebar #2: if ur feeling tight all up in ya chest already, please refer to the heading of my blog page* That's right, I said it. . . .some. women. ask. tobe. hit. Case in point, remember the scene in Baby Boy. . .when he was trying to leave but his girl kept trying to hold him and was hitting him and shit? Remember how he backhanded her ass? Yup, she had that one a comin'!
All I'm saying is, women who do shit like that. . .and provoke men and try to prevent them from walking away and putting space between each other should fully expect to get the taste smacked out their mouth. Please don't get me wrong, I'm only talking about these woman, not the ones that are getting the life beat out of them for no.damn.reason, other than the fact that their men are nuts. No, I am only talking about the woman who will go so far as to hit the man first and then be confused when they wake up 30 minutes later on the ground. Now mistake me not, I have done it myself. I smacked the taste out of my last boyfriend's mouth after I found out he'd been cheating. But. . .please understand. . .despite his size, I was FULLY prepared to fight that man. In fact, i smacked him just so that he would know I wasn't playing with him. He was fully aware of how I felt about women who hit men and I needed him to understand that i was ready to get it poppin. I still think I could have taken him if he'd hit me back. Only because i was that mad. . .being that angry gives you a superhuman strength like no other. He must've seen the crazy in my eyes cause he just walked out and didn't look back. lol That was the only man I've ever raised a hand to and even then, I would have been ready for whatever he thru at me as a result on my actions.
I truly believe that the fundamental difference between men and women is that women tend to be very v o c a l. They wanna talk shit out all day and all nite. Guys are more like "give me a minute to think, damn!". Plus, they're, for the most part, not too big on the whole arguing thing. So for a man and woman to be arguing heatedly and to have the woman physically prevent the man from leaving or even raises her hand to him? Yea, I can totally understand why she'd get her jaw tapped.
Now I know what some of you are think. . ."how could she condone that?" "You can't say something like that if you've never been in the situation" " Why must we always blame the victim?". To you people, I say. . .you are absolutely right. No, I have never been hit by a man, but I have had a boyfriend that thought it was ok to grab me, hold me somewhere against my will, pop up at my girlfriend's house to "take me home cause I was taking too long", the list can go on and on to the break of dawn with all the crazy shit he did in the short time we dated. Now this dude was 6'5", weighed 200+, stayed working it out at the gym and could pick my ole' chunky ass up with absolutely NO problem. But even with his size and strength being so superior to mine, I reacted ev-er-yyyy time he got out of hand. The most relevent time being while we were at his house and he tried to stop me from leaving to catch the very last bus home after he and I had argued damn near the entire day. He was grabbing me and was pinning me against the wall (and not in the good way schm). Then, as he had my hands pinned above my head against the wall. . he tried to kiss me. As if that situation was turning him on somehow. Freaked out by that, I did the ony thing I could do and BIT THE SHIT OUTTA HIS LIP. He yelled. Blood splattered. His female cousin who had been in a back room heard him yell, saw the blood, watched me gather my shit and then dropped me home on her way to taking taking his big dumb ass to the hospital. Yea, it was that bad. He had to get 7 (even though I am quite certain it was more like 11) stitches in his bottom lip. What can I say? I freaked out. And he paid the price for manhandling me, dammit! hmmph.
Plus, I was well aware at the time (I think I was like 19 or 20) that my mom had been abused by TWO of her husbands. That was not going to be me. So I had to make it clear to him that shit like that would not be tolerated. That ended us as a couple, and gave me a very good story to tell future boyfriends to come: I will fight to the death to defend myself and my offspring. It is my natural right.
It is because I feel this way that I also don't understand women that stay in abusive relationships. I know the general belief is that many women stay due to their lack of income, education and general ablity to support themselves independent of their spouse. I am also fully aware that the second assumed reason woman stay is due to lack of self-esteem. Bull! with all of the resource sthat we have these days, it is VERY diffucult for me to grasp the concept of "no options. In 2009? Word? (again, guess I just can't relate)
What do you think, is it as black and white as "Boys don't hit girls" or are there some hues of gray?
Ya know what?
I have too many damned blogs scattered across the web. So, in an effort to keep my mind off of Mr. Big's indefinate abscence. *tear* I'll be moving all of my blogs to this page this weekend. I'll try to keep them in some kind of order but. . . well, I'm not sure how I'll fair at that, so bare with me.
Time to get comfortable in the new digs!
p.s. He's coming tonight to do the whole "belongings exchange".
Dear Lord please don't let me cry in front of him. *SIGH*
Time to get comfortable in the new digs!
p.s. He's coming tonight to do the whole "belongings exchange".
Dear Lord please don't let me cry in front of him. *SIGH*
Thursday, February 19, 2009
*sigh* So can we talk?
Alright ya’ll I know I was dead ass wrong for starting a blog and then just letting the shit accumulate cobwebs. But trust me, I have a good excuse. What, you ask? I have been boo’d up and loving every milli second of it. But, just like a friend who stops going out with the girls on a reg when she gets new peen in her life, here I am writing and begging for forgiveness now that my boo is gone. :(
So, in my effort to move on and (hopefully) get this guy out of my system for once and for all (hopefully) *crossing fingers* I figured I need to do what so many do and blog it the fuck out from the beginning. Yep, the entire twisted tale that not even Myspace got the privilege of reading.
*sigh*
Here goes. . . .
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------The Begining of Enigma and Mr. Big: A Series of Unfortunate Events
It had been about six month since Ex-Fiance and I had broken up and I was doing what most would have in my situation: pAAArtying like a rock star!!! Now, prior to this breakup, I had been a fan of the notion that the best way to get over one guy is to get under another one, but this time I was trying the whole “me-time” thing. So guys were the furthest thing from my mind as long as I had a row dog and the bars were serving long island ice teas for cheap in the hood.
So I was oblivious to the guy across the bar from me who’s been staring since I sat down and who decided to leave at the precise moment that my bestie and I “slow motioned*” our way to the car. Just as I was about to slide into the passenger side seat, I heard something I very rarely hear from the opposite sex trying to holla: “Excuse me gorgeous. Do you mind if I take up a minute of your time?”. Simple? Absolutely. But when your used to hearing “I’m saying tho shorty what’s really good wit’ you???” ANYthing else sounds sexy.
So, I responded in a way I usually don’t. I actually stopped and gave dude an audience. Now, I must admit, he was not my type when I first laid eyes on him. He was big like I like ‘em, but I just wasn’t completely impressed by his face upon first glance. But, I liked his conversation and we exchanged numbers. He called me about an hour later. Now, usually this would have annoyed me, but again, his words had me. . .impressed. He said he’d only called me so soon after getting the number because he’s learned that certain woman believe the man should make the first call (and I do). Then he said that since he’d gotten that out of the way, the next call would have to be initiated by me and if he did not hear back from me he’d take it as a loss and keep it moving. If ever there were a “gotcha bitch” moment, that was his as far as I’m concerned! I called him the next day and we stayed on the phone for hours talking as if we had known each other for years. We had the most interesting and personal conversation I had EVER had with a member of the opposite sex. Talking to him came so easily for me, I really found my self saying things to him that I’d never said to anyone else, nor that I’d allowed myself to think. It just seemed so easy with him. I think it also helped that at that point, I was so “not beat” for the penis-havers that I truly spoke my mind with him. He got “Enigma” from day one, not a representative.
We continued to speak on the phone for the rest of the week and then one day he called and I told him I was at the bar (of course) where we’d met. He told me he was just a few blocks away and that he’d pick me up. He came in with one of his boys and the four of us (I had two girlfriends there with me) had a round. Now, let me take a minute to fill ya’ll in on a lil secret: I had been at the bar for at least an hour before the guys arrived and I had long since threw away that whole “don’t mix liquors” rule. (Remember this. it plays a part in how the night ends up)
Anywho, he and I eventually leave. We get to the car and he tells me that it’s his mother’s. ok, fine. I can deal with that. Once inside I take note of the air freshener around the rear view mirror that says “Princess” and the car seat in the back. Now, during our initial getting-to-know-you convo, he’d told me how he had two chirren by the same woman and that she and he had split after she cheated and he found out. H.S sweetheart gone bad and all that otha stuff. Ok, fine. I wasn’t planning on marrying the dude, so his baggage didn’t bother me. In fact, I’d decided that he would be the lucky guy to benefit from my 6-month drought. Ya girl was HORNY!!!! So much so that as he was talking about what it was about me that made him holla, I cut him and said “Cut the bullshit, you stopped me because you saw me and wanted to smash”. As he sat there with his mouth open trying not to smile at my brazenness, I continued “Ain’t no way you were in that bar, chugging henny and thinking about how interesting you thought my conversation would be. You wanna hit, so don’t bullshit me let’s make it do what it do.” ( I know. . *hangs head in shame* but that’s where I was at the time. I didn’t want to sit and talk about the future or anything, I wanted sex and he was there and did I mention I wanted sex?)
Twenty minutes later we’re in the hotel room making out heavily. He eventually goes down on me and I was excited because he almost it (I had to teach him to swallow during our later meetings) made me cum. At that point, only one guy had ever made me orgasm, no one else had even come close. So I knew that he had potential. I was only further impressed once he put on a condom and we got down to it. ‘Ole boy was blessed and knew what he was doing with it. Good combo. Mama was please. Lol
About 10 minutes into it, he stopped and said he had to use the bathroom. When he came back, he told me how he’d been to the doctor earlier that week and that he’d been having problems keeping it up do to it I can’t remember exactly what it was that he said was wrong, but I remember he said he had to drink lots of cranberry juice and we went back and forth with me asking questions making sure it wasn't an STI..it was more of a urinary thing. Anywho, we laid there talking for a minute just naked, happy and free until . . . . . remember my sidebar before about mixing drinks? Yea, they all turned on me at the same time. I flew to the bathroom and spent the next 10-15 minutes alternating between pooping and throwing up. Gross, I know. Now the kicker is, I am SUCH a girly-girl when it comes to certain thing (burping, farting, etc) and the thought of doing any of those things in front of a guy used to make my left eye twitch and my ass itch just a little, until Mr. Big. I didn’t feel embarrassed about the night’s events at all and he didn’t seem to hold anything against me. We were. . chill, real chill. And vice versa, the whole, “I gotta pee” thing didn’t make me look at him any differently. Somehow I truly believed that he was just having a bad night.
When I came bathroom, I let him know that I wasn't feeling well and that I needed to go home. As we got our stuff together and walked out to the car, I remember thinking, “Mmm, I’ve definitely gotta try him again!” He dropped me and called me twenty minutes later to see if I was feeling any better. (I wasn’t—lesson learned! Lol)
To be continued. . . . .
*I’m not sure why, but for some reason whenever I get drunk, Juvenile’s song Slow Motion is on repeat in my head.
So, in my effort to move on and (hopefully) get this guy out of my system for once and for all (hopefully) *crossing fingers* I figured I need to do what so many do and blog it the fuck out from the beginning. Yep, the entire twisted tale that not even Myspace got the privilege of reading.
*sigh*
Here goes. . . .
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------The Begining of Enigma and Mr. Big: A Series of Unfortunate Events
It had been about six month since Ex-Fiance and I had broken up and I was doing what most would have in my situation: pAAArtying like a rock star!!! Now, prior to this breakup, I had been a fan of the notion that the best way to get over one guy is to get under another one, but this time I was trying the whole “me-time” thing. So guys were the furthest thing from my mind as long as I had a row dog and the bars were serving long island ice teas for cheap in the hood.
So I was oblivious to the guy across the bar from me who’s been staring since I sat down and who decided to leave at the precise moment that my bestie and I “slow motioned*” our way to the car. Just as I was about to slide into the passenger side seat, I heard something I very rarely hear from the opposite sex trying to holla: “Excuse me gorgeous. Do you mind if I take up a minute of your time?”. Simple? Absolutely. But when your used to hearing “I’m saying tho shorty what’s really good wit’ you???” ANYthing else sounds sexy.
So, I responded in a way I usually don’t. I actually stopped and gave dude an audience. Now, I must admit, he was not my type when I first laid eyes on him. He was big like I like ‘em, but I just wasn’t completely impressed by his face upon first glance. But, I liked his conversation and we exchanged numbers. He called me about an hour later. Now, usually this would have annoyed me, but again, his words had me. . .impressed. He said he’d only called me so soon after getting the number because he’s learned that certain woman believe the man should make the first call (and I do). Then he said that since he’d gotten that out of the way, the next call would have to be initiated by me and if he did not hear back from me he’d take it as a loss and keep it moving. If ever there were a “gotcha bitch” moment, that was his as far as I’m concerned! I called him the next day and we stayed on the phone for hours talking as if we had known each other for years. We had the most interesting and personal conversation I had EVER had with a member of the opposite sex. Talking to him came so easily for me, I really found my self saying things to him that I’d never said to anyone else, nor that I’d allowed myself to think. It just seemed so easy with him. I think it also helped that at that point, I was so “not beat” for the penis-havers that I truly spoke my mind with him. He got “Enigma” from day one, not a representative.
We continued to speak on the phone for the rest of the week and then one day he called and I told him I was at the bar (of course) where we’d met. He told me he was just a few blocks away and that he’d pick me up. He came in with one of his boys and the four of us (I had two girlfriends there with me) had a round. Now, let me take a minute to fill ya’ll in on a lil secret: I had been at the bar for at least an hour before the guys arrived and I had long since threw away that whole “don’t mix liquors” rule. (Remember this. it plays a part in how the night ends up)
Anywho, he and I eventually leave. We get to the car and he tells me that it’s his mother’s. ok, fine. I can deal with that. Once inside I take note of the air freshener around the rear view mirror that says “Princess” and the car seat in the back. Now, during our initial getting-to-know-you convo, he’d told me how he had two chirren by the same woman and that she and he had split after she cheated and he found out. H.S sweetheart gone bad and all that otha stuff. Ok, fine. I wasn’t planning on marrying the dude, so his baggage didn’t bother me. In fact, I’d decided that he would be the lucky guy to benefit from my 6-month drought. Ya girl was HORNY!!!! So much so that as he was talking about what it was about me that made him holla, I cut him and said “Cut the bullshit, you stopped me because you saw me and wanted to smash”. As he sat there with his mouth open trying not to smile at my brazenness, I continued “Ain’t no way you were in that bar, chugging henny and thinking about how interesting you thought my conversation would be. You wanna hit, so don’t bullshit me let’s make it do what it do.” ( I know. . *hangs head in shame* but that’s where I was at the time. I didn’t want to sit and talk about the future or anything, I wanted sex and he was there and did I mention I wanted sex?)
Twenty minutes later we’re in the hotel room making out heavily. He eventually goes down on me and I was excited because he almost it (I had to teach him to swallow during our later meetings) made me cum. At that point, only one guy had ever made me orgasm, no one else had even come close. So I knew that he had potential. I was only further impressed once he put on a condom and we got down to it. ‘Ole boy was blessed and knew what he was doing with it. Good combo. Mama was please. Lol
About 10 minutes into it, he stopped and said he had to use the bathroom. When he came back, he told me how he’d been to the doctor earlier that week and that he’d been having problems keeping it up do to it I can’t remember exactly what it was that he said was wrong, but I remember he said he had to drink lots of cranberry juice and we went back and forth with me asking questions making sure it wasn't an STI..it was more of a urinary thing. Anywho, we laid there talking for a minute just naked, happy and free until . . . . . remember my sidebar before about mixing drinks? Yea, they all turned on me at the same time. I flew to the bathroom and spent the next 10-15 minutes alternating between pooping and throwing up. Gross, I know. Now the kicker is, I am SUCH a girly-girl when it comes to certain thing (burping, farting, etc) and the thought of doing any of those things in front of a guy used to make my left eye twitch and my ass itch just a little, until Mr. Big. I didn’t feel embarrassed about the night’s events at all and he didn’t seem to hold anything against me. We were. . chill, real chill. And vice versa, the whole, “I gotta pee” thing didn’t make me look at him any differently. Somehow I truly believed that he was just having a bad night.
When I came bathroom, I let him know that I wasn't feeling well and that I needed to go home. As we got our stuff together and walked out to the car, I remember thinking, “Mmm, I’ve definitely gotta try him again!” He dropped me and called me twenty minutes later to see if I was feeling any better. (I wasn’t—lesson learned! Lol)
To be continued. . . . .
*I’m not sure why, but for some reason whenever I get drunk, Juvenile’s song Slow Motion is on repeat in my head.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Have a Happy Period
******Disclaimer---as suggested from the title, this blog contains information about "girly" issues and may be unsuitable for punk ass men who don't like to discuss periods and all things involving the words" feminine hygiene"*****
A few days ago, one of my more annoying co-workers/supervisors announced that she was going to the drug store for a "girl emergency" (yes-she announced this. . see why she's labeled annoying?) Anywho, when she returns, she tells me and another of our co-workers, Kristyn about this product that has "changed her adult life" (yep-she's pretty dramatic too). Somehow, I lost the war between Kristyn and myself of who could look the least interested and therefore have her shut her fucking mouth. So I somehow get cornered by this woman and try my best to think happy thoughts to drown out the sound of "angry me " yelling "JUST CHOKE THAT BITCH!" until I heard the words, "and you can still have sex with them". Huh? Yes, the mere mention of the word sex had me completely enthralled in whatever else was about to escape this woman's lips. What was this crazed woman speaking of? Instead Softcups!.
Now, I must admit, she lost me for just a moment when she said you can keep them in for up to 12 hours, because I immediately thought "you nasty bitch. . .!" . But then she re-iterated the main point that first drew my attention: YOU CAN STILL HAVE SEX!"
She then puts something in a purple wrapper and a tiny booklet in my hand and tells me that you use it just like a diaphragm and for me not to knock it 'til I try it. I take the items and place them in my bag thinking, "I'm not using this shit! For all I know three months from now I'll see one of those lawyer commercials that start off "Have you or someone you know experienced itching and burning of the cervix accompanied by a greenish tint to the vagina since using "Instead Softcups?"
So in my pocket it remained . . . that is until my "Auntie." came on the same day that me and my dude made plans to get some serious grown-up time in. I went to the internet to do a quick research surf and came away with all the infor I needed before finally concluding, "Fuck it, I'm horny" before snatching the little purple packet off of my dresser. i inserted it a few hours before my dude was supposed to come so that I could get adjusted to it by myself for awhile. I was pleased to realize that there was no adjustment time needed, as it went in quick and easy and I could not feel a thing.
I went back and forth to the bathroom every 10 minutes or so just to make sure there was no leakage. No disappointments there. The only thing that did concern me was that I could feel the rib of the Softcup with my finger and I wondered whether he would feel this once we were "doing it". Once he came, I let him in on the situation- just in case there was a malfunction of some sort - and we went on with our night.
The final verdict. . .
This product (app. $7.99 for a 14ct box) has forever changed my life!
No, seriosly, though. . it has. . .
I absolutely recommend this product to any female who, like myself, feels like those 3-5 "lady days" out of each month just sucks all of the fun out of having a nice big, black,thick, long schlong waiting patiently for the "well" to drip it's last crimson drip.
So here are some of the basics for the lazies who won't research themselves:
Instructions (straight from their website)
1. To insert, squeeze the opposite sides of the rim together.
2. Insert Instead completely into the vagina.
3. Instead molds itself to your unique internal shape, creating a personal fit.
4. To remove Instead, simply hook your finger under the rim and slowly pull.
Warnings (straight from their website)
Do not use Instead if you are using an intrauterine device - IUD, as there is risk of dislodging, displacing or removing the IUD by pulling on the IUD string when removing Instead.
If you have ever had Toxic Shock Syndrome - TSS, do not use Instead or any other internally worn products.
Maximum wear time is twelve hours.
Instead must be changed after 12 hours.
Never reuse Instead, since doing so may expose you to the risk of vaginal infection.
Immediately following childbirth, miscarriage, or termination of pregnancy, consult your physician before using Instead.
Instead is not a contraceptive and does not provide protection against sexually transmitted diseases.
If you or your sexual partner develop burning, itching, pain, or swelling in the genital area or discomfort with urination, discontinue using all internal protection and contact your physician.
If you have problems removing Instead, you can contact your physician.
For those who are interested, Walgreens.com has about 40 reviews on the softcup from women who have used them. The deciding factor for me was reading some of the reviews on different sites and seeing that some women had been using them for 10+ years.
From what I can tell from my one time using it, the pros and cons seem to be as follows:
PROS
- You can still have sex
-they can be worn for up to 12 hrs (I personally would not do this, but to each their own)
- You can still have sex
- You can still have sex
CONS
- The removal/disposal process is messy. I plan to only do this at home.
- There is a slight chance that your vagina will turn green
*For more info, check out their page www.myspace.com/instead
*Please note that the above blog is strictly suggestive. I hold no medical degree whatsoever and cannot endorse anything as medically sound because of this. Furthermore, I have no ties to the company Instead and can in no way be deemed liable should your vagina turn green *
A few days ago, one of my more annoying co-workers/supervisors announced that she was going to the drug store for a "girl emergency" (yes-she announced this. . see why she's labeled annoying?) Anywho, when she returns, she tells me and another of our co-workers, Kristyn about this product that has "changed her adult life" (yep-she's pretty dramatic too). Somehow, I lost the war between Kristyn and myself of who could look the least interested and therefore have her shut her fucking mouth. So I somehow get cornered by this woman and try my best to think happy thoughts to drown out the sound of "angry me " yelling "JUST CHOKE THAT BITCH!" until I heard the words, "and you can still have sex with them". Huh? Yes, the mere mention of the word sex had me completely enthralled in whatever else was about to escape this woman's lips. What was this crazed woman speaking of? Instead Softcups!.
Now, I must admit, she lost me for just a moment when she said you can keep them in for up to 12 hours, because I immediately thought "you nasty bitch. . .!" . But then she re-iterated the main point that first drew my attention: YOU CAN STILL HAVE SEX!"
She then puts something in a purple wrapper and a tiny booklet in my hand and tells me that you use it just like a diaphragm and for me not to knock it 'til I try it. I take the items and place them in my bag thinking, "I'm not using this shit! For all I know three months from now I'll see one of those lawyer commercials that start off "Have you or someone you know experienced itching and burning of the cervix accompanied by a greenish tint to the vagina since using "Instead Softcups?"
So in my pocket it remained . . . that is until my "Auntie." came on the same day that me and my dude made plans to get some serious grown-up time in. I went to the internet to do a quick research surf and came away with all the infor I needed before finally concluding, "Fuck it, I'm horny" before snatching the little purple packet off of my dresser. i inserted it a few hours before my dude was supposed to come so that I could get adjusted to it by myself for awhile. I was pleased to realize that there was no adjustment time needed, as it went in quick and easy and I could not feel a thing.
I went back and forth to the bathroom every 10 minutes or so just to make sure there was no leakage. No disappointments there. The only thing that did concern me was that I could feel the rib of the Softcup with my finger and I wondered whether he would feel this once we were "doing it". Once he came, I let him in on the situation- just in case there was a malfunction of some sort - and we went on with our night.
The final verdict. . .
This product (app. $7.99 for a 14ct box) has forever changed my life!
No, seriosly, though. . it has. . .
I absolutely recommend this product to any female who, like myself, feels like those 3-5 "lady days" out of each month just sucks all of the fun out of having a nice big, black,thick, long schlong waiting patiently for the "well" to drip it's last crimson drip.
So here are some of the basics for the lazies who won't research themselves:
Instructions (straight from their website)
1. To insert, squeeze the opposite sides of the rim together.
2. Insert Instead completely into the vagina.
3. Instead molds itself to your unique internal shape, creating a personal fit.
4. To remove Instead, simply hook your finger under the rim and slowly pull.
Warnings (straight from their website)
Do not use Instead if you are using an intrauterine device - IUD, as there is risk of dislodging, displacing or removing the IUD by pulling on the IUD string when removing Instead.
If you have ever had Toxic Shock Syndrome - TSS, do not use Instead or any other internally worn products.
Maximum wear time is twelve hours.
Instead must be changed after 12 hours.
Never reuse Instead, since doing so may expose you to the risk of vaginal infection.
Immediately following childbirth, miscarriage, or termination of pregnancy, consult your physician before using Instead.
Instead is not a contraceptive and does not provide protection against sexually transmitted diseases.
If you or your sexual partner develop burning, itching, pain, or swelling in the genital area or discomfort with urination, discontinue using all internal protection and contact your physician.
If you have problems removing Instead, you can contact your physician.
For those who are interested, Walgreens.com has about 40 reviews on the softcup from women who have used them. The deciding factor for me was reading some of the reviews on different sites and seeing that some women had been using them for 10+ years.
From what I can tell from my one time using it, the pros and cons seem to be as follows:
PROS
- You can still have sex
-they can be worn for up to 12 hrs (I personally would not do this, but to each their own)
- You can still have sex
- You can still have sex
CONS
- The removal/disposal process is messy. I plan to only do this at home.
- There is a slight chance that your vagina will turn green
*For more info, check out their page www.myspace.com/instead
*Please note that the above blog is strictly suggestive. I hold no medical degree whatsoever and cannot endorse anything as medically sound because of this. Furthermore, I have no ties to the company Instead and can in no way be deemed liable should your vagina turn green *
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