What's normal anyway?

Music is healing for me. It's my escape from reality and sometimes my sanity. There are very few artists who speak to my being... Miguel is one of them.

I dedicate this post to anyone who feels out of place. Out of touch. Like there isn't a place for them in this world. You belong. Be yourself. Love yourself. Listen to the song if you haven't already. 

                                                                 Miguel 
                                                 "what's normal anyway"

Too proper for the black kids, too black for the Mexicans
Too square to be a hood nigga, what's normal anyway?
Too opinionated for the pacifist, too out of touch to be in style
Too broke for the rich kids, I don't know what normal is

What's normal anyway? What's normal anyway?
I mean what's normal anyway? What's normal anyway?
What's normal anyway?
Be in a crowd and not feel alone, I look around and not feel alone
I never feel like I belong, I wanna feel like I belong, somewhere
Be in a crowd and not feel alone, I look around and not feel alone
I never feel like I belong, I wanna feel like I belong

Too immoral for the Christians, but too moral for the cut-throat
Too far out for the in crowd, what's normal anyway?
Too involved in my own life to spend time with my family
Too concerned about what others think

What's normal anyway? What's normal anyway?
I mean what's normal anyway? What's normal anyway?
What's normal anyway?
Be in a crowd and not feel alone, I look around and not feel alone
I never feel like I belong, I wanna feel like I belong
Somewhere, somewhere, somewhere
Be in a crowd and not feel alone, I look around and not feel alone
I never feel like I belong, I wanna feel like I belong, somewhere

Don't let them change you, just be who you are, who you are
Don't let them change you, you can't please them all, them all

In a crowd and not feel alone, I look around and not feel alone
I never feel like I belong, I wanna feel like I belong, somewhere
Don't let them change you, just be who you are, who you are
Don't let them change you, you can't please them all, them all
In a crowd and not feel alone, I look around and not feel alone
I never feel like I belong, I wanna feel like I belong, somewhere

Does He Care About Your Edges??

The bonnet. The Scarf. The Wrap. Whatever you use to protect your hair ladies... the men are talking about it.
During my visit to Chicago I had a conversation with my cousin Aja about wrapping your hair when you're in the presence of a man and if it's okay. We both are years into our natural hair journey and love our hair, especially after all of the hard work we have put in. Of course we are both pro scarf because maintaining our hair is priority but there are some men who don't feel the same.
As I sat down to watch The Real Housewives of Atlanta about a month ago, the camera is in the bathroom with Kandi as she's getting ready for bed. In walks her husband, Todd, as she's putting on her scarf. Todd makes a remark about the scarf along the lines of (excuse me while I paraphrase from my terrible memory) "Oh you have to put that on now?" and Kandi's response was "Yes. I have to preserve my hair." She then has a part where she says "If someone can come up with an alternative for me to keep my hair nice at night and I can wake up in the morning and just go I'll use it but until then the scarf stays."

Ladies... if he doesn't want you to wrap your hair he doesn't care about your edges. Gentlemen let me break this down for you. Most of you have cotton pillow cases. Cotton pillow cases will snag hair, especially curly hair, as you're rolling around in your slumber. Over a period of time hair will start to break of from the snags of your pillow and before you know if your girl has fake baby hair gelled down to the sides of her head all because she wanted you to be attracted to her while she slept. Cotton pillowcases also soak up the necessary oils to keep hair moisturized and healthy.

So Ladies if you're dating and finding yourself in a debate over your bonnet here's a compromise. 1. Bring a silk pillowcase. He doesn't want your hair wrapped but he didn't say you couldn't protect your hair otherwise. This allows him to feel like he can roll over and not feel like he's sleeping with Aunt Jeminma and you keep to keep your edges. Win! 2. If you don't have a silk pillowcase bring of your scarf but tie it around the pillow. The hair will still be on flee. No worries. 3. If all else fails and he still won't budge he can either a. Pay for your frequent visits to the hair salon because you will need the maintenance for what he wants or b. Find someone who is a little more understanding.

Now.. last but not least. Intimacy and the head wrap. Dun dun dunnnnn..
Well... you're just going to have to unwrap to wrap it again. If it's the middle of the night he may just have to endure but if you can control it try to keep the sexy going just for theme needed. Depending on how much sweat is required and what hairstyle you have to preserve I suggest you communicate to your partner that you absolutely need the scarf. That is the only exception. I'm not a fan of anyone sweating out the blowout lol. If your partner doesn't mind the wrap then go for it. If they do... you can either a. sweat it out b. ask him for the funds to get it redone c. pack your bonnet and go.

I want to know what you all think! Feel free to comment because this is an ongoing debate.

Desaree

Trouble don't last always: Open Diary

Why have I been missing? 
There is nothing more frustrating than writing a blog and constantly hearing the "thoughts" of others in your head. I experience this every time I write a post and there have been times where I could push through but for the most part I'm finding it very difficult. There comes a point where the voices of others speak louder than your own and frankly I'm over it. I'm tired of the self doubt. I'm tired of wondering if I'm going to offend someone. I'm tired of wondering if my words will be taken out of context. There's nothing more frustrating for a creative then boundaries and limitations but how do you beat them when they're coming out of your own mind?

This is one of my flaws. The fact that I can't drown out the voices kills me. It keeps me from being my true self. My true free spirit. Censorship and limitations get under my skin. There was a time where I could tune them out but honestly I haven't been doing what I need to to make that possible. What do I normally do.. let me explain.

Going to church is a big part of who I am. Not only because I was raised there but fellowship is something that makes me like at home. Being surrounded by likeminded individuals and being able to bounce ideas off of them makes things so much easier. I have found a church home but due to my busy schedule, making it to church on Sunday is nearly impossible. My prayer life is struggling and my lack of connection when it comes to friendships in NYC... well quite frankly I'm in a place I've never been before. Often lonely and shut off from the outside world my life has taken a turn in a direction I couldn't anticipate. Don't get me wrong.. I'm not miserable. I'm not depressed. I'm just an individual trying to figure out how to navigate a situation that doesn't suit my personality. I'm quiet at work. I'm pretty quiet at home. No real outlet for me to really express myself.. so in a way I've become a shell. Lol.. that didn't sound as depressing in my head. Sorry guys.. back to the point.
Having a relationship with God and being aligned with his purpose for my life is what I need to be on track. I'm working on that. Reading the Bible.. fellowshipping.. praying.. fasting (Lord only knows the last time I did that). Those are the things I need to do to get this thing back on track. Funny how we always know what we need to do but doing it is the hard part. Oh and I need to work out.. consistently. Yikes. My younger sister is a beast in the gym and I'm over here paying for a membership and I go every once in a while lol #fail.

I guess this blog was more of a therapy session more than anything. Thanks for reading.
I always pray that my posts help at least one person. There is someone out there going through the same thing I am and if I can give them some sort of clarity or make them feel like they're not alone then so be it. To whomever this may touch please know that you're not alone and this is a temporary state. Trouble don't last always.

Desaree

Instagramification

Instagramification.

A condition that more and more people are suffering from on a daily basis. Symptoms include but are not limited to: Deleting a picture/video after it does not reach a certain amount of likes. Posting pictures/videos that you know will elicit "thirsty" behavior i.e. half naked photos, eggplant Friday worthy material, etc. Refraining from posting a photo that wasn't taken in the perfect lighting and with perfect makeup. Trying to befriend people who have a huge following in order to acquire more followers.

Instagram is a great social media platform that has allowed its users to connect and build an audience by one simple thing, imagery. It has opened the doors to many artists, poets, singers, actors, etc. to showcase their work and build their brand. Unfortunately, on the flipside Instagram has also created a complex for others. Let me explain...

You're out for the night with some of your best friends. You're taking pictures all night long enjoying yourselves. Everyone knows that you don't post pictures after midnight, unless you're Kim Kardashian, so you decide to wait until the morning so everyone can wake and see you having the time of your life! 9 am hits and it's time. After picking the perfect filter (Valencia, duh) your picture is officially posted. Let the likes roll in!!! 1.. 4...12...29... and then... it slows down. After an hour you only have 37 likes. Then the crazy thoughts begin ."Umm... is my Instagram broken? Are people still sleeping? I normally have 77 Likes by this time. Oh! I see what's happening... they're hating because I went out and had a good time and they were stuck in the house with their boring lives. Did I not contour correctly? Maybe my dress wasn't as cute as I thought it was." ...and the list continues.

The "likes" and "following" are driving us crazy people. If we don't have what we perceive as enough the thoughts of inadequacy start to creep in. Let's not mention the users who have turned into total divas after they build a following. They have 2,000+ followers and then booking information pops up in their bio, along with the word "model" yet they have no representation. But I digress.

One of the scariest parts of all of this is the kids. Children are using Instagram and viewing all kinds of imagery. I know it because I see the things that they feel are important. The young guys are posting  every angle of their Jordans, their money I mean allowance, and then the random photo of them blowing smoke into the camera. Which.. by the way is the dumbest thing ever. People. If I've NEVER said anything educated before in my life... here it goes... STOP POSTING PHOTOS OF YOUR WEED ON THE INTERNET. The police observe it and will use it against you in the court of law. You don't think you're that important until you have a knock at your door. And no, your page being private does NOT make you exempt lol.
Back on track... the young girls are scaring me as well. The influx of THOT behavior has taken over my timeline. Yes, it will get you likes. It's been proven time and time again.. without failure. The thirst is real enough to where people will like your half naked pictures, however once it's out there it's out there. There's no need for you to remove your clothing for gratification. Ha, I guess that's funny because I model lingerie and swimwear. But modeling is my career. If that's your career choice then by all means, but if you're supposed to be in your 2nd period class but you're in the school bathroom posting pictures in your bra we have to reevaluate some things.

Last but not least... the fitness/perfect body craze. We've all seen it. That guy with the perfect abs. The girl with the tiniest waist line and the booty that Sir Mix A Lot was talking about (if you don't know who Sir Mix A Lot is... just Google him youngin lol). Yes we all follow them. We know them. We go to the gym with their body in mind. Inspiration. Motivation. All is well until you find yourself constantly scrolling through their page asking "Why not me? Why can't I have those ____? I bet people would like me more if I looked like that." Then the self doubt starts to creep in. The self hate starts to manifest. Next thing you know you're unhappy with your body. Although you've busted your behind to look your best, it's just not good enough.
When I recognized that I was questioning myself in ways similar to these I knew it was time to limit my Instagram. I had to unfollow some people, except for Miguel's girlfriend..I'm not giving her up lol. Seriously though, some people had to go. I was given THIS body for a reason. It was meant for me and my job is to treat is as well as I can. I must love it because I won't be getting another body in this lifetime. I can't look at how much people love and adore one fitness person and compare my life to that. Honestly I'm not built to work out all day, everyday. I like food and I like to make time to eat it lol.

::WRAP IT UP::
I say all this to say.... Love yourself. Treat yourself well. Take a break from Instagram from time to time. It's a highlight reel. Girls don't wake up with a full face of makeup on looking refreshed everyday and guys muscles don't glisten in the perfect light as they're stepping into the Lamborghini with their perfect woman everyday. We're all human beings. We all have flaws. You don't need the "Likes" to establish your worth. you'd be surprised how many people are paying attention to what your doing but just keep scrolling anyway. Go read a book at the park and bring yourself back to reality... maybe take a great photo after you're done lol.
Until Next time...
Desaree

Miss Understood

Before you read this please know that this was the hardest blog for me to write. It's honest. It's raw and it's still every much of what I'm dealing with. The judgement that can follow is a bit scary but I know that there's someone out there that can benefit from my story. There's someone who can use it and improve their situation or it may be the reason why someone doesn't give up. So... Here it is...

Growing up I have always been different from the crowd. There have been friends that have come along throughout the years who have made me feel "normal". People that you just connect with. People that understand you. People that can finish your sentence without explanation. Yes, I have been blessed to meet amazing friends along the way who could assist me in every single phase of my life.

Moving to NYC has been a journey and finding friends has been a difficult task to say the least. Now I know what your thinking, "You live in a city with millions of people and you can't find one friend?" New York City is full of people, bursting with energy and lots of opportunities.. this is true. However, New York City is a cold place. It forces individuals to build a wall in order to protect themselves from the cruel, dishonest and down right dirty situations and people that are encountered daily. So with that being said, no I haven't met a group of people that I feel completely understand me. I find that often when meeting people I am either perceived as fake because I'm nicer than most people or a little too forward because of the passive aggressive tone that most people have adopted.

I am different. I get it. But this has been very difficult. There has never been a time in my life when I couldn't find a safe haven. Growing up in a small town, going to a small HBCU and going back to my small town after graduating allowed me to be myself wholeheartedly. I was surrounded by like-minded people who could understand my thoughts. Who just got me. Of course there were the side eyes and haters along the way but nothing like what I'm experiencing now.

In ways I've become an introvert. I've become used to being by myself. Relying on myself. Most of my meaningful relationships are maintained through telephone conversations, which is great but it doesn't fill the void of having a group of friends that I can hang out with weekly or that I can call at the drop of a dime and have them meet up with me. After dealing with the awkward quietness that follows my comments in group convo's I've become very withdrawn. There's nothing more discouraging when trying to get to know new people than having them treat you as an outsider and blatantly show that they don't care about you being uncomfortable. After you add to the conversation and they stare at one another then continue to speak as if you're not standing there... That's crazy yo. I'm a woman with an opinion.. with wisdom and with a voice but it doesn't feel as though that's praised or appreciated. The general consensus seems to be "Let's all think alike." I would be okay with that hadn't my parents raised me to think differently. To follow the beat of my own drum. To dare to be different. To refuse to be a carbon copy. I can't spend my life being like everyone else. What makes me so special if I look, think and act like you? I hear the whispers when I walk in a room. I endured the months of cold shoulders after I spoke my mind in a meeting. I'm over it.

I don't want to sound ungrateful because I've met some beautiful people on my journey. Most of the models at Abercrombie helped maintain what little bit of sanity I had left during the time that I worked there. They made me laugh. They made me smile. They gave me hope that I could find someone who gets it. The frustrating part was that being their manager kept me from hanging out with them outside of work due to the no fraternizing policy. So when I would leave those doors I was alone again. Very few of the managers understood me. After vocalizing my opinions I had become the girl that was "hard to manage". Ha. Story of my life. I don't believe in sitting in bad situations and saying nothing because 'that's just the way it's been'. I'm sure I could've picked my battles a little better but I've never been the person who sits around and accepts less than what I deserve. I applaud people who climb the corporate ladder. But I won't do it being someone's bitch. The movers and the shakers of this world aren't the people who just deal with everything... they're the ones who step up and speak out.

Anywho... this is not a bash Abercrombie moment.. I don't have the time or the patience to type all of that out lol. I say all this to say, there are times when I'm lonely. There are times when I want to pack it all up and go home. But I don't. I stay and I fight. I cry. I wipe my tears. I keep going. Yes I miss my friends. I miss my family. I miss being understood. But I have a purpose. This isn't just about me.

I don't want people to think I'm completely unhappy because I'm not. I enjoy this city. I enjoy all that it has to offer but it has taken me on a roller coaster. At times it felt like more valleys than hills but this is my story and I accept it. I love it and I learn from it. I'm not sure if I'm going to release this but... we'll see.

I'm a Slave to my Bra: The Busty Girl Chronicles

I'm pretty sure the ladies are intrigued from the title of this blog and well... the guys are thoroughly confused.  So let me explain....

I remember the day I grew boobs. And yes I mean day. It was as if I went to sleep on night and woke up with a B cup. It sounds like fun and games until I mention that I was in the 5th grade. After the first few times I caught pre-pubescent boys staring and practically drooling at the site of my newly developed bust, I began to cover my body with oversized shirts, sweatshirts and jackets. Anything I could do to get the attention off of these things that just decided to appear out of the blue made me feel partially normal. My mom would encourage me to buy minimizer bras to keep my breasts from looking even larger than they were on my small frame. She didn't know it then but hearing that word "minimizer" created an idea in my head that my breasts needed to either be smaller or hidden. Since a breast reduction was off the table due to a young age... hiding them with my new collection of minimizers was the way to go!

One day I visited my cousin Rene, who was also "blessed" with the overnight boob thing that had been passed down to us through genetics. She explained to me how she always slept in a bra especially since she didn't want "the ladies" to suffer the effects of gravity. Seeing as though Rene was like an older sister to me this all made perfect sense. Following that day I was not only worried about hiding these big things but keeping them from ending up on my knees because hey that's what kids think happens once you become "old". That was the beginning. The beginning of me becoming a slave to my bra.

From that point on there was never a night where I slept without it. I'd wake up in a bra. Take a shower. Get back into those cups. Go throughout my day. Go to sleep. Wake up and do the same. (Of course I switched bras during that time.. I hear you wondering about that) There have even been a few times where I've stepped into the shower with my bra on because it felt like it was part of my anatomy. When I started cheerleading in the 7th grade I became the girl who needed TWO bras to have to sense of security and support that I needed. There's nothing like changing in a locker room with girls and having to explain why you need not one but two bras, especially when most of them are still wearing training bras.

One day in high school I walked into Victoria's Secret and as you ladies know, the employee pulled out her measuring tape and informed me that I was now a DD and the feeling of terror immediately followed. Me? DD? Why?!? From that day on if a shirt didn't have a built in bra, I didn't buy it. If a dress required me to go without one, I wasn't wearing it. You just could not convince me that I didn't look like a "saggy boob lady" after removing my support system. I had very few friends who could actually understand my plight. Oh and let's not mention the countless times I've gone swimsuit shopping with friends only to be let down when the store didn't have a XL top to accompany my small bottoms.

Now in my 20's I have decided to rid myself of my fears and free myself from the restraints of my bra.
(Insert dramatic superhero music)
I've accepted that my boobs will be stared at AND they're also a great asset when my friends and I don't feel like waiting in line at the club. My bra has been a security blanket but I've learned that it's absolutely okay to take it off during down time. Sleeping in a bra isn't healthy for many reasons anyway. From time to time "saggy boob lady", whoever she is, pops in my head.. but I've learned that it's nothing a good workout can't handle. In more extreme cases I can always find a surgeon who will nip and tuck these things back to perfection lol. I say all of this to say that we as women have to accept our bodies for what they are. Stop hiding behind everything and flaunt what you've got (tastefully of course... and not for Instagram either). There are women PAYING for what some of us are blessed with naturally. Enjoy your assets.. you may not have them forever.

If you're that young girl who's stuck in your bra just like I was.. please know that it's okay to be where you are. A lot of other girls may not understand but you don't have to hide anything about yourself. Gravity will not be setting in anytime and guys will stare at your boobs no matter what size they are.. they just can't help it lol.

Thanks for reading!
Stay Inspired.
Desarée