What We Not Gon Do Is……
…..have these lengthy ass discussions about my personal life at the Thanksgiving (or Christmas) dinner table. I’m not sure who or what started this “let’s interview the millennial at the table” trend. Please stop. We hate them. It’s annoying and I do mean that in the most respectful way possible. When I come home for the holidays, all I want to do is relax. A few catching up questions here and there are cool. Don’t get it twisted. But if you’re going to get “deep” with me, I simply ask that it not be done in the group setting.
My fertility is NOT up for discussion. If, and when (because I know it will) becomes a topic, I will have no choice but to turn the convo into a #Thanksgivingclapback meme. I don’t owe you or anyone else an explanation. I ask (and I shouldn’t have to) that you respect the decisions that I make with my body. Don’t transition the convo into “well are you at least seeing anyone” either. Again, why are you concerned? My present life consists of more than chasing men and making babies. How about, have you been reading my blog? Work discussions are also allowed but please keep it to a minimum. It never fails that I’m hit with the “why aren’t you using your degrees and working in your field” line. Listen. I’m working on it. Let’s talk about the current position that I have actually does contribute to society. K? Thanks.
*cues Solange’s Don’t Touch my Hair
What you not gon do is try to run your fingers through my hair. This afro is made via twist out not a blow out. I’m tender headed AF. As a matter of fact, just don’t touch it at all. If you’d like to know what I use or how I manipulate it, then ask. For the older folks, I love you. Y’all have a very special place near and dear to my heart………but don’t ask me when I’m going to relax my hair because I’m not. First of all, this is how it grew out of my head. If “being natural” is not for you, keep it moving.
Get your kids. No they can’t play games on my phone. No they can’t take pictures on my phone. No I’m not fixing anybody’s plate other than my own. As a matter of fact, I’m usually trying to figure out the cutoff age since kids eat first. I’m also not watching them while you “run to the store”. The only child I’m responsible for is myself.
I’m not sure what people with money look like. I assure you it ain’t me. So with that being said, please don’t ask to borrow any. Anybody that knows me knows that you don’t fool with Racquell and money. It’s one of the quickest way to get yourself cut out of my life. If anything, I should probably be sending around a collection plate to help me pay back these student loans. Not having a mortgage doesn’t mean I have money. Not having a husband or children doesn’t mean I have extra dollars laying around either. To me five dollars is the same thing as fifty dollars.
Now that I’ve gotten all that off of my chest…..who the hell brought those unseasoned collard greens?
Categories: Self Discovery