From the monthly archives:

June 2008

There Will Now Be A Pause In The Comedy… Let’s Get Serious

by Monique on June 30, 2008


One of the questions that I was asked for the FAQ Free for All was “How is it even possible that you are as confident and self aware as you act?” I really didn’t take the question all that seriously and was going to answer it in a long list with along with the others.

But then this weekend changed all that for me.

About 8 years ago, I met a girl named S. At the time I was really addicted to online games… you know, where you log into a room and play silly things like chess or scrabble with a group of stranger. Anyway, I met her playing Family Feud. Back then, we formed a clique of women who would group together to cheat the system. We would remember the answers for the questions and then share them with each other. That way everyone would get points etc. It was a lot of fun.

From that, spurred an amazing online friendship where we spoke often, and shared common problems and issues. We always wanted to meet but due to her own insecurities, she put it off and off and off.

Last week she emailed me to tell me she was coming to Dallas and that she wanted to see me while she was in town. I was SO excited to FINALLY get to see S. Eight years is a long time to wait!

We met Saturday evening at a tattoo parlor and as to be expected, we instantly hit it off. She was getting a piercing fixed, and then a tattoo. I sat and watched, and we talked and talked. The tattoo artist had asked her to stand up and look at herself in the mirror and she said to him “I don’t like to look at myself…”

Her words were no joke… she has always been like that. Doubting her own beauty. Questioning who would want her… even though she is married. It has always broken my heart. Neither of us are skinny minnies, so I thought she would at least feel confident in my presence, but that wasn’t the case either.

After she got her tattoo, we went to eat at Hooter’s. There she continued to speak about her own lack of beauty… and no matter what we said to her, you could just see it in her face that she had convinced herself that she was just a big blob making her way through life.

It seems lately that I am having this very same conversation with so many of my friends. It really got me to thinking about me, who I am and how I carry myself…

The Hooter’s is located near the House of Blues in Dallas, and while I was eating, I watched the groups of 3-4 females walking to the building. Four out of five of the groups had the typical “fat” friend… and it was the bigger girl who looked frumpy and plain. Most had on clothes that didn’t fit, or some big flower printed tent that they thought they could use as a shirt for the night. Far too many of them had not a lick of make up on… hair looking awful. Meanwhile the skinny girls looked amazing. Decked out from head to toe. Is there some secret rule that if you weigh more than 175 pounds you aren’t allowed to also look AMAZING??? I wanted to grab each one and ask them WHY.

Out of all my friends, I am one of the bigger girls. I’d be in the plus size to the world. I’m a fatty. But I’ll be damned if I am going to act like one. When I am out and about, you better believe I am the best looking chick in the room… and if you don’t believe it, then too bad for you, because I do.

And I will be honest. Do I think I am some stunningly beautiful woman? No. Do I think men become paralyzed in amazement when they see me? No. But I will carry myself as if they do. And at the end of the day, I get hit on more than any of my other friends. And it’s not that hoochie hitting on… it’s the “hello miss… how are you doing… can I get your number?”… All while I am wearing a wedding ring with a rock that you can see across a room. I actually get embarrassed when people give me compliments… inside I am all in knots, having major panic attacks but on the outside, I am smiling and nodding… I say thank you.

It’s the topic of many of the conversations with my friends… they say it’s just how I carry myself. Well no shit. And if I, a woman who for years was made to feel as if I was less valuable than a pile of dog shit can pull it together, then so can anyone else.

I have no doubt that that confidence comes from having been made to feel useless and pathetic. I vowed that I would never again let a man, or woman make me feel like I am worthless. And don’t get me wrong, when I am at home I look at myself and wish for a smaller nose, less blemishes, smaller waist, longer lashes, no scar on my lip, perfect eyebrows, and so much more… but hey, I am not perfect. And that’s fantastic!!!! When I leave my home though, no one will know I think less of myself. In the public eye, everything about me is exactly how I wish it to be.

So ladies, and even men… get it together! No matter what size you are, no matter what you look like, no matter who you are or what you do, DO YOU. You are number one. And if someone tells you you aren’t then oh well it’s their loss. And don’t even think about letting them know that you believe their nonsense either.

As I love to say, “If I don’t believe in me, why should you?”

And that’s enough of that… for now.

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The Chameleon That I Am

by Monique on June 25, 2008


Going on with more of my 100th post answerfest…

  • Rob asked:

Why do you hate me?

Well Rob, I don’t know you… so yeah. Kind of hard for me to hate someone I don’t know.

What are some of the comical differences in tastes you and the H deal with on a regular basis?

Girl, there are way too many comical differences in taste between he and I. For starters, he is strange and I am not. LOL. If I take a truthful look at things, I would have to say that everything about us is different. For example, he loves to listen to talk radio. Talk radio. Radio, where people talk… endlessly. I frankly have no desire to listen to yacking after being at work having rich people yack in my face about how important their non-important packages are. He also loves to listen to strange music. And don’t get me wrong… I love ALL kinds of music… However, when its midnight, and I’m about to fall asleep as I am driving home, I don’t want to listen to the smooth sounds of the jungle. He however likes that. So now you know if I ever am absent and come back telling you all we were in a wreck at 2 am, it was because I fell asleep behind the wheel listening to jungle sounds.

(Not trying to be dirty, I honestly want to know) Do you prefer thongs or boyshorts or granny (traditional) panties?

I am not a thong kind of girl… it just doesnt work for me as much as I bend and move at work, so I wear lowcut boyshorts. They are so compfy and I don’t spend my days showing off my panty design to everyone behind me, nor do they get to be traumatized by my ass crack when they least expect it.

  • Mimi asked:

Do you think everything happens for a reason?

I do indeed.

  • Liz asked:

The pictures on the top of your blog; are they all of you???
The last one too?

Yes, they are, lol. Even the last one.

I had more answered but a storm came through, knocked out my power so they will have to wait until the next post.

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OMG! It’s here!!

by Monique on June 23, 2008


I finally got to my 100th post… something I should have achieved a month - if not two - ago, but somehow life totally got in the way.

I’m at work right now, on a Monday morning, with not a lick of make up…. so very unlike me lately since you know, I’m now a “beauty consultant” (ROFL) and I always have to put my best foot forward. Hell, I didn’t even comb or curl my Chaka Khan ‘do this morning. I look a hot mess. I have a Mary Kay meeting this evening, so I’m thinking for lunch, I am going to go home and paint on my face so I can at least look semi decent for the meeting. I work every Monday so I show up at these meetings looking like I rolled out of bed after a night of heavy drinking and sex, maybe even throw in some drugs and sporting the same clothes and make up I had on the night before. Meanwhile the rest of the women look like they have come straight from the salon with their perfect make up and hair, wearing suits or dresses.

Oh, I’m the only non-Caucasian in the bunch. I can’t forget to mention that. So of course, the fact that they are in suits and I’m in some khaki’s and crap ass polo shirt really sticks out.

Anywho… I shall now begin to answer the questions people submitted for this grand occasion. I have sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo many of them… I don’t even know how the hell I am going to pull this off. I am thinking maybe answer them all over the course of the week maybe? That way this post won’t be 72 pages long. Yeah, that’s a good idea.

So, here we go.

How long after you starting dating (your husband), did you decide HE’S THE ONE? It is afterall the woman that decides this…heeeehheee

Well, honestly, I did not like him when I must him. LOL. He was a dork, and I wasn’t plus there was a variety of other things that kind of made me think it wasn’t going to work. However, as I got to know him over the course of a few weeks, it become very clear to me that I was falling very much in love with him and wanted didn’t want to be away from him for even a second.

  • Roger asked:

How did you become so damn sexy?

Hahahahahahaha… It’s just what I do. People tell me sexy is a state of mind, and no matter what size I am, or how stupid I feel on the inside, I do my best to never display it on the outside. I will have you believing that I think I look damn good when I am out with no make up, bedroom slippers and a vintage jogging suit on. If I don’t believe in me, who else will?

How did you and your husband meet and if any, what trials did you (or are you) facing as an interracial couple?

Well, we met on the interweb (as my mother calls it). It’s been a very long and hard road to overcome mainly because I had experienced a life of racism, and when you bring someone into it who hasn’t, it becomes problematic. It starts to take a toll on you at times because you look crazy because you see it and feel it in places, and meanwhile they are oblivious to it. I’m lucky to have a very supportive husband who was willing to open his eyes a little wider than usual and step into my shoes. And these problems just don’t come from strangers, but family as well. His family certainly didn’t want him with someone chocolaty and delicious like me. And even my own family has had its apprehensions when it came to me being with him. But at the end of the day, this is my life and I have to do what’s going to make me happy. With or without the support of family.

  • Anonymous asked:

What’s it like to be fat?

I actually like it. Once upon a time, I was an anorexic girl who had no concept of what it was like to just live for myself. I was hellbent on being like everyone else… including being bone thin like so many of the models back in the day. I spent my days nibbling on lettuce and my nights exercising until I could barely move. I thought I was awesome… until I heard the whispers that I looked like I had AIDS. That really was a wake up call for me… And frankly, it pissed me off because here I was busting my ass to look that “good” and then all the credit was going to a disease I didn’t even have?

It’s very hard for me to look at pictures of myself back then… and I much more happy just being ME. And me can be whatever size I want to be! Besides, I have never had a man complain about my size… and even though I’m taken, and sporting a pretty nice rock, they still step to me and ask for my number. So yeah, I’m loving who I am.

  • Trina asked:

Do you ever feel having been adopted is the reason you gravitated towards the bad boys and your bad habits?

Unlike most people I know who are adopted, as a child I never longed to know who my birth parents were. It wasn’t an issue for me. Plus, for as long back as I can remember, I have always known I was adopted. My mother used to always tell me “You were chosen, and that makes you so special”. I recall sitting around daydreaming that Irene Cara was my birth mother which was pretty comical because it wasn’t a desire to meet her… it was more of a “wow factor” for me. She was a cool lady on TV and I related to her singing and dancing on Fame.

As far as I was concerned and still am concerned, the woman who raised me is my one and only mother. There is no one else who can take her place… and no one else that matters in my opinion. She did a superb job raising me. And we had a very typical relationship full of ups and downs.

In the end, I am a product of my upbringing, and a lot of my issues are directly related to life at home. My father created the path towards me being a demented looney who was very subconscious about body image. I don’t even think he was aware of what he was doing. In his attempt to be helpful, he made me feel less than worthy. Same goes for my men issues. I saw women in my family tolerating things from their husbands and boyfriends that I now know were not ok. But as a teen, I didn’t know any different. So to see that cheating was ok, I just assumed the first time I was hit that that was ok… and it just went on from there. Thankfully I figured shit out before I spent 40 years with someone who made me miserable.

And that’s all for today.

You can still submit questions until Friday and have them answered. Do it in comments or send me an email. I’m answering everything!!!

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