missrenie: (Default)

 

 

It slipped let me push it back in she says

 

And for a moment I think that she is going to reach down and do it right there in the booth.

 

Ahhh can we wait until we are outside?

 

Why… are you afraid that you are going to cry like a baby inside the restaurant?

 

This is a question I don’t feel the need to reply to since we both know the answer.  Once outside she takes my ear pulls down on the lobe and without pause or panic proceeds to firmly push the metal through the tiny hole until it can’t go anymore.  All I can think is. this is the ear that isn’t sensitive.  All I can say is… scream is  Argggggggggggggggggh!!!!

 

Quit whining you’re fine, you’re fine. 

She starts in on the other ear (the sensitive one) with just as much kindness.  This time I’m able to speak somewhat normally.  At least this hurts less than the biopsy of my cervix.

 

I’m not sure if she heard me.

But what she said next struck me.   You wanted this, you’ll just have to suffer through, we suffer for the things that we want. 

 

And I know she said it light heartedly but it’s true.  The change that I have created in my life has been a painful process but well worth it.  My mind, my body, my limitations, my beliefs have all stretched a bit and it has been uncomfortable but well worth it.

 

There you’re done she says after a few seconds.

I turn around and hug her with a weak thank you and an even frailer but honest I love you.

 

She laughs as she walks to her car.  “See you’re fine…Don’t be such a pussy or I won’t do your tattoos.”

 

 

That’s Dre

She is friend and sister.  She’ll tell me congratulations just as easily as she’ll tell me that I’m screwing up.  She’ll let me cry and bitch and moan for a bit before she asks me what I’m gonna do about it and then check up to make sure that I am doing something about it.

 

She believes in being her sister’s keeper… she is creative and compassionate (when she’s not gauging your ear).  And she has been by my side.  During this last year and these last six months for the best of it and the worst of it.  Telling me that I am fine though all the stretching and the pussying out and encouraging me to move forward, move fearlessly, move beyond.

 

And I love her for it.

 

Thanks Dre
from the bottom of my heart to the holes in my ears... thank you.
 

 

missrenie: (Default)
“You won’t make it on pretty alone” Kitty von Quimm says



There are three us there
Three of us sitting in a single line

with our legs spread
and our shoulders back

facing a large long ballet style mirror,
in a small theater somewhere in Oakland.

I look from her reflection to my own and in the light streaming in from above I  can see every flaw in my thunderous thighs, the repulsing fat of my abdomen, the ample flesh of my arms and yes more than one chin.

I almost smile at her remark. I’ve accepted my body but I’ve never thought of pretty as an option. Well that’s a lie. With clothes on, well the right clothes on I am beautiful. But like this…


“Burlesque is about attitude. They want it.  They want all of this” Juicy D. Light says from my right as she runs her hands up her full figured form. “And you can’t be afraid to give it to them.”


For a moment I am afraid.
There are no lines here, no biased boundaries, no entity to fight against, no rules to bend or break, no lines to refuse to follow.


There is just me


just me and the music
the stage and the crowd

The crowd who will not judge me according to my body, nor the false stylized standards of beauty that society has to its own detriment declared as fact.

No, they will judge me on something far more important…
my creativity
my fearlessness
my self expression
my ability to shock & amaze
my mastery over my sexuality and sensuality
my ability to command their attention and make them let me entertain them.


I am thinking this as Juicy counts off the sexy eight, as I watch us move together our left shoulders dipping to the right and our bodies following it back out.

I am feeling this as I shimmy and shake down low before slapping my thighs and pushing myself back up forcefully.

And as my mane of dreadlocks flips up and back over my shoulders I see this
I see this creativity & sensuality,
this expression of a fierce and fearless sexuality
I see this in my own reflection.
and I can’t help but growl a little.


Kitty is right I won’t make it on pretty alone
But that’s not a problem for me because I’m not pretty.

I am fucking gorgeous
I am fucking fabulous
I am fucking fierce



I am Miss Magnoliah Black~~~
                           Let me entertain you~~~
missrenie: (Default)

I think the problem is that you think you know me
You think you have me all figured out
that you know what makes me tick and switch on
but you don't
you don't know me
you don't have the slightest idea.

I told you that I was tried, overwhelmed exhausted and needed a break from life for a moment.  You diagnosed me as simply being in need of orgasm. That you would deliver this “prescription”.  That you would make me feel things I have never felt before and that I was gonna release and relax.  Have peace within myself. 

 

…News flash...

your dick can't do that honey. 


1 that is something I have to give myself
2 that place you talk about getting me to , that momentary state of bliss you see fit to challenge yourself to bring me is a place you and I will never go

I told you how to get me there
I gave you hand written specific directions
go for my mind, my spirit, my divine and my body will follow

but you think you know better
you think you know me better than I know myself


you don't know me
you don't have the slightest idea.
and you’re not interested in that are you?
You just want my orgasm to be some trophy on your fucking shelf.

Like it's a competition between you and all the others that have come before.
It's not a competition but sense that's the only language you seem to understand
know that you have been weighed, measured found lacking and subsequently  disqualified.  For multiple reasons but this in particular:  For telling me what my body, my being needs and for having the audacity to tell me what I have and haven’t felt.

 

I've been in the game since 16 sugah.  I've  had plenty of climaxes and I know
beyond a doubt
that on that one late afternoon in the early fall of 1999
right as the sunset was casting blood orange slices of light through half lidded venetian blinds,  as the sweltering heat wrapped me from toe to hip from hip to tit from tit to crown  that this was different
Movement, breath and sound and sense different

and to tell me that I was mistaken, misinformed or otherwise ignorant of what it was makes you look like a jack ass ... trust me honey I know my own body.  I've lived in it longer than you have ten second man... see you don't even get a Mr. in front of your name any more.

 

Because you’re not worth it* no one is worth it*.

 

Dre was right

For a while there my inner Goddess went on vacation. 
I sent her off
I actually packed her bags, bought her a ticket and pushed her on the plane because I could not indulge in my most recent delusions if I didn’t.
You see I didn’t fall for you I fell for a false sense of security.

 

She’s back now
I’m back now
and it’s time to clean house.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*It=  the wiliness to compromise or change myself, my actions, my goals in order to accommodate some other person in an attempt to be accepted, embraced, “understood” or “loved” in varying degrees.




missrenie: (Default)
Stop hatin on me
it's really starting to piss me off

yeah its hard to lose weight
yeah its hard to pay bills
yeah its hard to be alone

its been eaiser for me to lose weight cause... well I fucking exercise and I eat most my meals raw and green.  
its been easier for me to pay bills cause... well I work two fucking jobs
its been easier for me to be alone because instead of sitting in my house I find shit to do. 

No i'm not starving myself
No i'm not working myself to death
No i'm not whoring myself out

I eat healthier
I enjoy my jobs
I think people like me cause unlike you I don't bitch

When they tell me good news I am happy for them
I don't say
-I found the fat you lost... its on my ass
-I'd be rich too if I were killing myself
-guys like you cause you obviously can't keep your legs closed and well everyone likes fat black women...


Honestly the more I think about the shit you say to me the more I think this friendship isn't gonna work.
Can't you just be happy that i'm happy and getting healthy?
I'm trying to lift you up with me but you're too busy trying to drag me down

I say good morning
you say fuck mornings

I say good luck
you say my luck is fuck awful

I say you can do it
you say I don't understand

I say you can do it cause I am doing it.
I didn't get this life handed to me
I work my ass off for it
and I am about to tell you to kiss it.
cause you're so toxic

so damn toxic
that you're making me sick

and I can't afford to get sick
not now
not for anyone
not anymore


I want to be your friend
I want to support you
I want to be there for you
but  I can't if you won't do something
and damn...... pleeeeeeeeeease
quit yer  bitchin
missrenie: (Default)
I'm temporarily in this place.
this fuck awful place in my head.

I'm coming down from my break-up high, moving high, i'm so fuckable high
I bi-passed solid ground
I slipped directly of the cliff  and into the pit.

I'm holding on though, bloody nails and all, screaming obscene curses at myself for wanting
just to be held
just for a little while

I wish I was stronger,
that this want to let go while someone holds on wasn't so dominating
I plunge myself into work, into working out... I've lost 12 pounds.  But this heavy pain is still there.


Nothing's gonna heal it save time
Shopping, eating, working, new relationships... those things are just temporary bandaids

It's gonna bleed through.

fucking sure as hell isn't gonna do the trick either
if the past two weeks have taught me anything
if the past six years have taught me anything

its that I'm so tiered of being fucked
and I'm so tiered of being fucked over

But despite all that, and everything I wrote I above it.  I know these three things.

I will heal.
I will be happy.
I will be whole.

I am determined to be so
I deserve to be so.
missrenie: (Default)

I wonder if it happens to every woman....
Your going along just fine and then
bam
suddenly they are everywhere.

Babies... millions of them
You can't seem to escape them.

Every time you turn on the tv theres a godamn gerber add
Every time you turn on the radio there's some good mothering commercial
Every time you take the bus you either end up sitting across from one that is is just staring at you over his/her mother's shoulder or there is a picture of one glaring accusingly at you with its to- big- for- its- head eyes "why arent you a mommy yet!"

"BAH!!!" you say defiantly and out loud making the people next to you think you are insane.

But then
then
you get this naggin little itch that you try to ignore... you think "maybe it is something I ate" or " I knew I should have turned off that dumb ass lifetime station before I went to bed"
and it gets worse.

That little itch you used to get turns into a nudge and every time you see a baby your eyes glaze over and your head tilts to the side and your hands get a little warm...
Still you think its a bad piece of tofu or something and you continue along your merry little way believing that you are a complete person and trying to prove to all the wed soccer moms that your life is really great because you are not cleaning up baby vomit and cooking dinner for some chauvinist bastard with a stomach that hangs over his belt a huge bald spot you cant resist sticking things too and bad night time gas.

but then one of your friends pops one out
someone you know right... like personally and aside from stinky diapers  and losing 3 hours of sleep per night it really isn't as bad as you made it out to be
and that nudge turns into someone grabbing your ovaries... like every time you see a baby you get "ovary ache" (gasp)

No No No (you scream) This isn't me... this isn't what I want!!!!
I want:
raunchy sex
successfully achieved states of non violent semi-drunken euphoria,
muscle men with nipple rings,
free space in the back seat of my car,
a purse that is weighs under five pounds
and sharp edges on my furniture!!!!!!!!!

but then the baby smiles at you
(little bastard)
and you know something beyond yourself, in the brief span of that smile that "ovary ache" spreads up and into your heart and with every beat of it you pulse and flutter with love and a glimpse of what completeness must feel like.

!!!!!!Damn Mother Nature and her hormonal havoc reeking hell!!!!
Shes a tricky bitch
but I love her so

It does not matter what type of relationship you had with your parents
It does not matter what you told yourself about possibly being a horrid mother
It does not matter that you're sure the kid would turn out like his/her father...
or worse like you.
Because what matters is the feeling of that child growing in your womb
what matters is watching her/him grow and learn
what matters is discovering the world through their eyes
what matters is knowing the completeness of..mother and child

Despite the raging of your mind, your body becomes softer to nuture, your mind sharper to protect, your heart larger to really love.

You begin to think that lugging around 10 pounds of baby supplies could be good for you since you keep skipping out on the gym and just because a man or woman has nipple rings does not necessarily mean that he/she is good in bed (at least that is what you tell yourself)
~~~le sigh
that is why im doing what I am doing now...
darn aching ovaries
and staring-bus-babies
I can blame the body snatchers later.


 

 


Profile

missrenie: (Default)
missrenie

November 2011

S M T W T F S
  12345
6789101112
1314151617 1819
202122 23242526
27282930   

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jul. 28th, 2017 08:42 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios