Basketball Chronicles: Ego

I am 5' 5 1/2" (Doctor claims I'm not 5'6". Hmph)...125 lbs...and I play basketball with men weighing 150 lbs and more on a weekly basis.  Yess...everyone is bigger than me.  Keep this tidbit in mind as the blogpost continues. 

Lately, I've noticed lately how funny the male ego is on the basketball court.  I've heard the dumbest arguments.  But I find comedy in the male ego in regards to me.  Now, I've told you my size...which leads to guys getting offended when I play D on them.  I've heard a guy go "Are you serious?"  In his eyes, if I'm playing defense on him, it means that I think I can take him...which means I don't think he's that good.

This is when my ego kicks in.  Now, because you don't think I "deserve" to play D on you, I gotta 1) Prove to myself that I can stick you; 2) Light that auss up when I get the ball.

You'd be amazed by all the ish talked to me on the court.  But when I say something back, it's "Oh, you're talking ish?"  You damn right I am...and I'm gonna try my damnedest to back it up, too.

Ego...such a funny thing.

K to the...

Hair

I think all 4 of my regular readers are my friends on Facebook or Instagram.  So, it's not quite news to you that I started my locs back in March.

For those who aren't my friend on any social networks: I STARTED MY LOCS ON MARCH 21, 2013!

With any type of transitioning with hair, there is a phase when you are looking a hot mess.  I have reached that stage, in between my retwists.  But you know what...

I love it!

And I've actually posted pics of it.  

Yikes!

This is a lot coming from someone who wasn't always satisfied with her hair.  It wasn't long enough...it wasn't thick enough...it wasn't enough.  My lil sis and I have different fathers; so naturally, her genetic makeup is different than mine.  She has long, thick, curly hair past her shoulders...while I was blessed (or cursed) with soft hair that barely came to my shoulder.  Hearing that a friend of the family basically said her hair was prettier than mine just...hurt.

It wasn't until I got to college and started wearing my hair down that I noticed that I, too, had length (to the shoulder!) thanks to that good ole wrap.  And because of this lengh I wasn't used to, I tried to hold on to it for dear life.  I graduated from college and found a scissor happy beautician I'd go to every two weeks.  Imagine how irritated I'd be when I say I need my ends clipped and get out the chair with hair so short, I can barely wrap it.  This continued while getting a relaxer and as I became natural.

After one last "clip ends" session, I stopped going to get my hair pressed and rocked my curls.  Length wasn't important anymore, but it was definitely growing.  I was actually close to cutting my hair and having a teeny weeny afro.  Weird.  But I decided against it.

Now here I am, just letting my hair to do its own thing.  And my grey strands (Thanks, Dad!) are outcheah flourishing.

But I love it.

Now if I can just find the right remedy for my dry scalp...

K to the...

Rambling 3.15.13

*This was something was on my heart when I woke up this morning.*

Earlier this week, I told a dear friend in G-Chat that the breakup I experienced in 2011 was the best and worst thing to happen to me.   I made plans.  I knew I had found The One.  Sorority Life took a backseat after going hard for 2008 - 2010 because I was focused on us growing together because the inevitable was going to happen:  Marriage and kids.

Then the breakup.

I didn't know how to deal...what to do to deal.  And my tweets (per my Twitter archive)  reflected that.

So I took a break...from everything.  Less than a week afterwards, I resigned form my position as Sergeant-At-Arms for my chapter and didn't bother paying dues for the 2011-2012 sorority year.  I, purposely, missed different social events because I didn't want to be bothered with anyone except my family and close friends...the ones who never left my side.  I had to get Kenya back in order.

I didn't want to use liquor to cope, so I continued working out and hooping.  I was in the gym on plenty of Fridays nights taking my frustrations out on weights.  Anything but drinking, because drinking brought out emotions.

I despised coming home because of the reason I moved in this apartment.

Shambles, son.

Then, I got an email about yoga class.  One of the benefits was relieving stress.  Say no more.  Sign me up.

Then I turned 29...last year of the 20s.  A "new year"...fresh start.

I got the bullshit out my life.  I forgave.  I grew.  I overcame.  I lived.  The best year of my 20s, yo.

Now, here I am.

I saw a post on Instagram the same day as the g-chat convo mentioned earlier that was so on time.

"Sometimes the bad things that happen in our lives put us directly on the path to the best thing that will ever happen to us."

Bring it on, Life.  Bring it on.

K to the...

Dear 2013/Year 30:

I know I stated in 30 for the Dirty 30 that I didn't know what to expect...but come, on son!  You're effing with me and my friends.  Get your sh!t together!

K to the...

So...

As someone who was born & raised in Chicago...

As someone who drives 15 miles from Indiana to work in Chicago everyday...

As someone whose family still resides in the neighborhood in which I was raised that saw too much violence in 2012 resulting in my sister losing a friend...

As someone who has no kids, but was saddened by what happened in Newtown, Connecticut...

It annoys me that it took what happened in Newtown, Connecticut for there to be some serious discussion about gun control.

According to the Washington Post, there have been 2,364 shooting incidents, since January 1st, in Chicago.  There have been 487 homicides, with 87% of those homicides being gun-related.  Eighty-seven percent of 487 is 424.

Four hundred twenty four gun-related homicides.

So no...this extra delayed gun control discussion doesn't annoy.  It actually pisses me off.

K to the...

30 for the Dirty 30!

*queue Jay-Z's "December 4th"*

Today marks the beginning of my new year.  So in honor of the birthday, here are 30 thoughts from yours truly.

1. Time does heal wounds.
2. Man plans, God laughs.
3. It’s so easy to focus on those who hurt you, and forget those who were there by your side.  I know where my focus is.
4. In the words of my grandmother, Mei-Mei F. Baby, "It’s nice to be nice."
5. I don’t take my friends for granted.
6. I don’t take my family for granted.
7. My little sister is my road dawg.  The dance battles at my party weren’t a show; that’s normal behavior.
8. I will continue to shop in the Juniors section as a 30-year-old.
9. Yoga has to be the reason why my legs don't feel like noodles after dancing for 4 straight hours.
10. Don’t sleep on the Day Party.
11. "Iyanla, Fix My Vertical Leap."
12. My love for playing basketball doesn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon.
13. My love for NIKE doesn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon.
14. Contrary to popular belief, I LOVE wearing heels.  I mean, have you seen my legs!?!
15. The ladies of Posh Entertainment are the bees’ knees and ankles!
16. Fear has kept me from going for my Certified Public Accountant license.  That fear is no longer there.  
17. While in undergrad, I said I’d have a condo by 25, be engaged by 27, and have my first baby by 30.  I’m currently renting, single and was in a relationship the last time I did anything that would result in a baby.  LOL
18. I’m still winning.
19. I hope I don’t make the same mistakes in my 30s as I did in my 20s.
20. With my best friend moving to Italy (and my godchild possibly being born there), I’ll be getting some REAL stamps on my passport, son.
21. I really wish I had some more inspirational ish to say right now.
22. Netflix will continue to win over clubbing as I step into this new decade.
23. I want at least one more tattoo.
24. Castor oil is really the truth for your edges.
25. I don’t remember the last time the weather was so beautiful in Chicago on 12/4.  But I won’t complain.
26. Are we at 30, yet?
27. I told myself in undergrad that I’d try locking my hair, one day.  Still might happen.
28. Music is life.
29. Aside from new moles and more grey strands, I honestly have no idea what to expect in this new decade.  But I do know, I have the support of my friends and family.  Happy Dirty 30 to me!!!
30. “Ya bish!”

K to the…

#Realissues: Dirty 30 edition

As outlined in my “Dear Summer” post, I've kicked it all year for other people's 30th birthday.  At this point, I’m just cruising until my 30th, which is 23 days away.  I’m pretty chill about it now, but there is one thing I’m nervous about.  I brought this topic up a couple of years ago on Twitter, but now that 30 is approaching, I have to ask:

When I turn 30, do I have to stop shopping in the Juniors section for my jeans?

This is a #realissue, people.  I mean…the name of the section is “Juniors.”  I’m not even considered a young adult anymore…unless I’m trying to join someone’s Youth & Young Adult Choir.

I’ve accepted these random moles that are popping up all over my body.  I’ve grown to love the moles on my right cheek that I affectionately call “The Big Dipper” because of how they’re positioned.

I’ve accepted the fact that, though yoga is doing wonders for my body, I can’t be outcheah reckless.  This includes stretching before hooping and wearing an ankle brace when my ankle feels just fine.  If I want to wear heels when I turn 75, like my grandmother, I have to keep it all together.

Basically, I’ve accepted that I’m getting older.

But, dag nabbit, one thing I can’t accept are jeans that cover my belly button.  NO!  I refuse to head to the women’s’ section of a Macy's or Carson's for some Levi’s.  Mom Jeans on this body?  Pssshhh!  That is a life that I refuse to be about.

So yeah, I’ll continue to head to the Juniors section for my jeans.

For now.

K to the…