Trading in my heels for cleats: Part II - There's No Place Like Home

Music: Young MC "Bust a Move" and then Debbie Gibson "Electric Youth"
Mood: Happy, Excited and a wee bit Anxious

I can see you. Scratching your head, scrunching up your nose and squinting your eyes saying "Heels, cleats, no place like home? Is this post going to be some sort of marriage between sports and The Wizard of Oz?" Don't put that past me. I could write a quick lil diddy about munchkins and winged monkeys playing arena football, IF you would like.

In my last post I introduced you to the new me. The new college football (JPW) lovin' me. Several years ago as my passion for college football was ignited, my interest in some other sports grew too. Don't get it twisted. I don't sit around watching ESPN by choice, oh, actually sometimes I do. I don't pray for my favorite teams to win. Well, maybe once. And I definitely don't cry when my team loses. Actually I do. And THAT is what we'll be discussing today.

It was the fall of 2007, and I'm living in GA. The Cleveland Indians were playing The Boston Red Sox in Game 7 of the American League Championship Series. With a win that night, the Cleveland Indians would be going to the World Series. Please join me in a pause for dramatic effect.... I'm not sure why I was watching the game in our bedroom instead of in the living room, but by my guesstimation I am sure it was because Ken was watching a football game. I'd even carried the ironing board into our small bedroom so I could iron my work clothes for the next day as I watched the baseball game. As I stopped ironing to watch some play in the game that could make it or break it for the Indians, I looked into my pink Hello Kitty tv, hoping for the best. So what happened?


Let's rewind. In January of 2007 my heart first broke when the annoying Florida Gators killed our Ohio State Buckeyes in the 06' Football National Championship game. (I blamed that Tebow character. He inflicted losses on his enemies. But he loves him some Jesus, so I was somewhat torn.)

Come on! I'm a Bama fan. What picture did you think I was gonna post?

              * In the spring of 2012, Tebow said in front of a crowd of Christ lovin Chrisitans, that he loved me. This is not a lie. This is very true. Ask Aimee. He didn't say I love you - as in the crowd or Jesus. But me. Only me. Not you. Just sayin'...*

Noah obviously has anger issues.

Then April rolled around. After all that March Madness hugabaloo, that I cared diddly squat about, The Buckeyes faced The Florida Frickin Gators, in the NCAA Men's Basketball Championship game. (Do you guys know how my heart is racing right now?) Come on Buckeyes. Please Buckeyes. My heart cried out to the young college boys and Buckeye gods. We didn't win. (I blame Joakim Noah. He made me mad. All that unruly hair just a rippin' and a railin' through the air, blinding my sweet Buckeyes.) I remember a sadness taking over me.

This brings us back to October 2007. Me, the Hello Kitty TV, and the ironing board, all with fingers crossed. I don't recall the play that caused the Indians to be shut down but I remember my emotions in the moment that I knew that the Indians had lost the game. Chunks gathered in my throat and tears in my eyes, and then, I just broke the hell down. My heart broke for my city. My heart broke for my state. Broken, my heart ached for my home.  And ya'll, I was really crying hard. So much so that my husband came upstairs to see what was wrong with his wife, slumped over the ironing board.

Why can't you be doin all that #Winning now?

Between sniffles and ugly face crying I blurted out "First it was the football game, then the basketball game, and now this. And I'm not going to even bring up the Browns. Damn Gators! Damn Red Sox. Damn Florida Marlins! (Yeah I pulled up the 1997 World Series loss too.) We never get a chance! We never get to win. Why don't we ever get to win?" I was truly aching and filled with sadness. Although I now lived in Georgia, Ohio, CLEVELAND (Heights), Ohio was home. And for all the crap the nation wanted to give us about some measly lake fire and Indians curse, it was still truly the best place on earth. And it was home. And there is no place like home.

Me as a young Brown's fan. (Before gravity and breastfeeding took affect.)

I do not feel as happy as I did when I first started typing this post. I am remembering that moment and how sad I was. But you know what? I am PROUD! I am proud to be from Ohio! I am proud to be from Cleveland Heights, Ohio! I am BLESSED to be from Cleveland Heights, Ohio!!!! And to the rest of the world, who can continue withholding awards from our trophy cases, or taking talents to sunny Miami frickin' Florida, bite me on my buckeye shaped booty! There is no place like home.

Here the whole state of Florida is represented by the wicked witch's green hands.

Trading in my heels for cleats: Part I - So it begins...

Music: Jamiroquai "Canned Heat" - only my fave song everrrrrr!
Mood: Happy, Grateful, Optimistic

That's right. You read it right! I am in a pretty gosh darn swell mood right now! I am so sure that listening to the best song ever composed is adding to my feeling so marvelous. But I also know that since I've been non-stop talking to God the past 24 hours, I feel less stressed and more BLESSED!!!! What! Yep. I know what you're thinking, after I just rhymed those two words together...
You: Brooke, you should be a....
Me: .........................................RAPPER!
You: .........................................................Poet...

Oh. No? Okay. Agree to disagree.

As I struggled for today's topic I thought I should talk about something that means alot to me. My family, my job, my pantry? No. College football! Now I know you SOOO just spit your Sprite out of the large glass you were drinking it from, as the record also skips and Kanye West interrupts yet another speech on live tv, but calm down. This girly chic said it and meant it.

Growing up in Cleveburg I was a Browns fan, duhhh. Yet, I wasn't a football fan. I really had no idea what was really going on on the field, except for touchdowns. I knew that winter meant Daddy was wearing his old school Browns wintery hat that had that fuzzy yarn ball on top. I knew that  the Dawg Pound barked alot and sometimes wore face paint. And I knew my first grade teacher may have mentioned something about collecting dog bones that had been thrown on the field, after games, and taken them to her doggy at home. (Not gonna lie, that memory is a little blurry.)

When I got to OSU, Thee Ohio State University, I really cared less about being a Buckeye. I had negative school spirit. I loathed game day Saturdays because the Buckeye fans started drinking and blasting marching band music VERY EARLY in the morning and I was still hung over from the night before. Butttt, I loved game day nights cause we partied! Hard! I knew little about the OSU/Michigan rivalry but it was still engrained in my brain (I'm a rapper, see) to think "Muck Fichigan!"

After leaving Ohio and meeting the man of my dreams, in Georgia, my life began to change, one Saturday at a time. Ya see, this man was and is a hard core Bama fan. Huh? What and a who, you might be thinking if you were like me. The University of Alabama in Tuscaloosa, AL. I had ZERO clue who that was or where that was, nor did I care. But like clockwork, every Saturday during the first fall that I spent with my boyfriend, Ken, he was glued to the tv. Supposedly Bama had some great history. Supposedly they were good at like, winning championship games or something. (Whatever those were). Supposedly they'd had some great coach who was like the bees knees or whatever...

As I watched Ken decorate his then bedroom with crimson paint and tons of framed pictures of Championship winning teams, I started thinking "maybe there is something to this whole Bama Roll Tide thing I'm hearing of. I mean I know my boyfriend has lots of energy, but he is meticuloussly painting this room with that crimson paint."

By the fall of 2004, I was on the couch, right next to Ken, watching The Crimson Tide. Ken would always enjoy teaching me about the sport and I would, in the beginning, enjoy seeing those shiny sleek pants hug those football players' behinds. Now back then, in 04', it was a tough time being a Bama fan. They ended the season 6-6 and were a far cry from the INCREDIBLE team they are today, (and have been the past few years.)

Me and the husband at my first Bama game, 08'!

One day in the fall of 2005, as I was just a living my life, watching Bama beat the crap out of the South Carolina Game Cocks, Bama's second string quarterback came in to play. Wait. Who was this? His eyes, that hair, those bangs. I remember it like this (and it is possible that this memory has been altered): Coach calls him in. He stands off the bench and begins to walk slowly towards the field. Suddenly 80s music starts playing "I just died in your arms tonight." - and in slow motion he flips his huge Justin Beiber bangs out of his face and puts his helmet on. He's ready. On the field, in his first moment to shine....he throws a touchdown pass and simultaneously wins my heart!!!! His name, is John Parker Wilson.

John Parker, because he prefers for me to call him that, became my greatest reason to continue watching Bama play. And sometimes, I'd watch other teams too cause that meant more time with my man, (Ken not John Parker), and because I really started loving the game.

Me and JPW, hanging out, AGAIN.

Now, many Ohioans may be freaking out like "Brooke, where is your allegiance to Thee Ohio State University?" Listen now my dear friends wearing scarves and wool mittens, I will always be a Buckeye in my heart. It just happens that I married into a Bama loving family, and because of the joint efforts of The Crimson Tide and John Parker Wilson and his bangs, I love to watch The Tide role over every oponet on game day.

I am realizing that this post is getting quite lengthy and I haven't even chosen what pics of JPW (John Parker Wilson) I will post yet! Hmm, I think I will need to break this up into two posts....

I need to say something. I am very nervous about what will happen in January of 2014. It will be a Monday night, the time will be about 8:30 pm and Ohio State will be battling The Crimson Tide in the 2013 NCAA College Football Champtionship game. How do I know that? Well, Bama is the best. (Don't even try to get a word in Georgia Bulldogs, grown folks are talkin'). And this past year The Buckeyes were undefeated BUT were on stupid face probation so they couldnt' play any bowl games. Next year, those Buckeyes will be on fire. Under Coach Urban Meyer, who I used to hate but now love him, like, a lot, they are sure to  stay at the top. And Bama, well, Coach Saban. I don't have to say anymore.

Who will I root for? Where will my allegiance lie? Will I dress up as a buckeye or an elephant? I guess you will have to wait until January 2014 to find out. I already know. But you don't.

Which leads me into my next post: There's No Place Like Home.

The Road to Embracing My Womanhood: Part IV The Conclusion

Music: Janet Jackson "All For You"
Mood: Hopeful

I know what you're thinking
"Brooke's journey to womanhood is taking a long time. Will she ever become a woman? And when she does, will she still be as interesting?"
Oops, my bad. That's what I was thinking when I moved to Georgia.

Have ever thought you were going on a date and then some dude took you to Dairy Queen for their "Hot Eats." (True story, and the lame actually told me we were going for the Hot Eats.) 

Well that confusion and disappointment sort of sums up how I felt when we moved to Atlanta. Um, but it wasn't Atlanta. As we passed The Varsity and the Atlanta's skyscrapers grew further and further behind me, I realized, we were headed to the docks. The boondocks that is. Suwanee, GA. Where is that?

Suwanee, 42 min. from the city. But with ATL traffic, it felt more like forever.

Fast forward to 2003. I believe it was a Tuesday night in February. I was thrilled because my sister had just moved to "ATL" as well, and my life felt so much more complete because of her presence. I headed to a local bar with my sister and my ex, who I was determined to make fall head over heels for me again. Of course I had my hair, makeup and outfit just perfect that evening. Instead I met HIM. The man I would marry. I didn't know that then of course.

We don't have to shave our chest hair, we just don't grow any.

 When he made our relationship official, in the weeks to come, the moment was so dreamy. We were riding in his Jeep Wrangler with the doors and windows off. PS - me no likey riding in a car like that, weave just-a whippin' through the wind. B2K's song "Girlfriend" was playing, and then he asked me to be his girlfriend. It felt like a movie Was this the serious moment in a romantic comedy? Ya know that moment when you start to feel lumps developing in your throat cause you've finally reached the scene were you say "This is more than just giggles. This.Is.Love." - and then you cry.

My husband would be honest to mention that probably some time around that historic ride with B2K, many of the girly ways that I had fine tuned my entire life, started to change. My once plum lipstick, had turned to a gloss, then maybe chapstick, and eventually nothing. My outfits changed from A Night Out at the Roxy, to a night out at the Abercrombie and Fitch, to a night in with the doggies. I even recall once wearing a two piece oversized men's long john set around our house. Really Brooke? Best part is that Ken and I weren't even engaged then, and he still kept me around.

I'm gonna go ahead and say this is NOT turning me on.

The last day I dressed up. I kid.

Had it not been for my business professional jobs, I might have looked some what bummy all the time. I had awakened to the concept of "being comfortable in my own skin." This meant that I was happy and confident with me, me being a woman, me being more than my clothes or makeup, and me living a life where I would attempt to put others before myself. A life where I truly loved God first.

For the next few years I would forget that being comfortable in my skin could ALSO mean wearing cute clothes, pretty make up and being FEMININE. Becoming a mother helped perpetuate the idea that I didn't need to wear cute clothes or even a bra if I was home breast feeding babies and watching General Hospital all day.

Every moment, up to the present, was a significant part of my road to EMBRACING being a woman. I've recently learned that I can amazingly beautiful just by smelling beautiful. I can find satisfaction in even Lipsmackers Lip Gloss (I bought it for Gia and was amazed what it did for me when I snuck it on.) I recently bought a pair of heels! I haven't bought any since 2007 maybe. I blame the take over of flats, but really, I couldn't even walk in those things anymore. What makes me feel most beautiful is love in my heart, for others and myself.

As I embrace being a woman, a responsible, independent woman, a wife, mother, daughter, and sister I realized that there was a key missing part. I had to learn how to truly lean on women. I had to WANT to lean on them. As I embraced myself as a woman I could embrace other women as well. I trust them today. I need them today. My sanity and survival is not possible without deep meaningful, intimate, relationships with women. Wow, Brooke, that last line was reallllllly dramatic. Is that all really necessary?

You read my about my journey. What do you think?

The Road to Embracing My Womanhood: Part III - Look, I'm not sure how long this is gonna go on for.

Music: Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell "Ain't No Mountain High Enough"
P.S. This song always reminds me of Ryan Reynolds in Remember The Titans. Love Love Love that movie.

Mood: Well duh, I'm happy, just watched a movie's football locker scene!

I too surprised myself when I decided to return to Columbus, OH for another year of school. My independence as a young woman was some what s l o p p y.... The summer that preceded this I worked at BDs Mongolian BBQ. There was a night that some other talented ladies and I would grill everyone's food in the middle of the restaurant using wooden sticks. We weren't nearly as talented as the entertaining male grillers, but we certainly were cuter. The grill boasted some 600 degrees so sweat was to be expected. So of course, I wore a FULL FACE of make-up back there at that sweaty grill. Imagine how attractive I looked as my silver eyeshadow leaked around my tired eyes now decorated with eyeliner eye boogers! Eeeew! Worry not, I kept my makeup bag just mere inches away from me so I could reapply and touch up as needed. The lesson to be learned here, just because you're in a sauna doesn't mean you can't wear a full face of makeup. Disclaimer: That is not true, makeup melts and faces look like Pinterest crayon art projects.

Our make believe sorority's formal night, PKP.

Year II in Columbus was my first year officially living on my own, and not in the Vagina Monologue dorms from the previous year. This was also the year that I moved into an apartment on 16th Ave. The situation couldn't be any better: Some girls from Heights, my high school alma mater, who also lived with my bestie Becky, were looking to give a roommate the boot! Below their apartment, and the level below that one as well, were more girls from my dormitory! Score! For all the bitchin' and moanin' I did about living in the all girl dorm I was pretty stoked to nearly recreate that living situation.

Our honorary roommate, babe.

Colleen, you know what caption goes here?.

Doesn't everyone perform choreographed dances to 80's songs at parties?

You don't even want to know.

  We like to party. Some of us harder than others....It was happening, a lot. Once my sister visited me and asked "Why do you wear so much makeup? Ya know when you get drunk you just look like a clown?" Hmmm. Although some of you readers might be thinking Damnnnnnn, she just dogged you, I disagreed. The endless amount of makeup I wore looked good to me, at all times, sober, and especially when I was drunk. When I'd come home from a night out and look in the mirror, I'd think "Who are those beautiful blurry girls?"

Words can't explain how much I love this girl.

This was also the year I got honestly vulnerable with another woman for the first time. I'd always kept women at arms lengths unless they had something I could selfishly gain from the relationship. So I was not used to this level of honesty and intimacy. And no, I don't mean intimate like half naked pillow fights while popping Bubbaliscious bubble gum, I mean intimate like depth and weight to our conversations; sharing love and real friendship too. She inspired me and saw qualities in me that I'd never seen in myself. I didn't know women could be that real...Maybe because I'd never behaved that way myself...

Year III, OSU, living on 17th Ave, this was a bit of a doozy. I lived in The Big White House.

Haunted House

Look at the picture. Sitting up there on the hill, kinda reminding me of that movie Psycho...which pretty much sums up that year! HA! We can open and close that book rather quickly.

Here conveys all my chic roommates and my gfs posing like we're besties.

But seriously, finally the coed living experience I'd been waiting for. I didn't really know the 5 other women I lived with and quite frankly, wasn't to keen on trying to change that. They were girls, duh. 

(Fast Forward to present day when one of those women is actually one of my bffs and we pretty much share the same brain. I thank God for her. She is the Kaling to my Mindy. See below) 

Hey you, with the glasses on, wanna be my best friend?

Sending Brenna off to the Navy, tear.

Look how normal we look. Obviously early in the night.

I tried to hang with our male roommates as often as possible. Always the girl, trying to drink like a man, talking with the potty mouth of a man (but with a higher voice), watching Sopranos and reading Maxim magazine. Was this an identity crisis? No, I really honestly enjoyed those things. I perceived that any way a female spent her time that was different from me, was lame. I think I thought I'd found some secret to happiness. Yeah, I was super happy living there, (shaking my head in slow motion "noooo.")

The 2nd annual PKP Formal. As much as I thought disliked girls, I sure did keep a lot of em around.

That year living in that Big White House left it's mark on me enough so that I eventually packed my Barbie dolls up and moved to Georgia. Oh wait, one more thing. I remember trying to get dressed for class and struggling because 90% of my closet was club wear. Shiny this or sparkly that. Fancy Black pants, tight black pants, looser black pants, black pants with pockets and wanna be snakeskin blackish pants. I'm pretty convinced that daytime wear didn't exist to me. What ever did a lady need non fitting t-shirts and casual jeans for? (Hahahaha, stay tuned for the next part when ALL I wear are sweats and my husband's shirts covered in baby drool.)

The Road to Embracing My Womanhood: Part II

Music: NSYNC "The Game is Over"
Mood: Hungry and Anxious


Mmmmm. Condensed Cambell's Tomato Soup. Who woulda thought I would be 32 years old chowing down on this stuff? Honestly I hadn't had a bowl since 1992, maaaaybe 1993, now I eat it like urry day (Yes I said urry, I live in the south now. When in Rome...Rome, GA that is).

Time out! Soup is not the subject. Let's get right to Part II.

Where did I leave off? "Wait wait Brooke" you are all screaming at once. "What the hell NSYNC song are you listening too, and why?" Let me explain a lil something to you. I require a certain brand of POP to listen to whilst sitting at my computer, to get through my day. I usually start off with Kimbra, move on to Britney (It's Britney BITCH!), Destiny's Child, Spice Girls (duh), Bruno Mars and then of course Jamiroquai. The reason you've never heard of this NSYNC song is probably because you gave up on them and didn't purchase their last album "Celebrity". Fret not dear readers. You can listen to it on Spottify. Go on. Right now. I'll wait.

 Before folks started "taking their talent" elsewhere

 Okay, let's see. Where was I. Ah yes, I'm in high school (GO TIGERS), pretty vain, extremely girly, and obsessed with clothes. I loathed basketball with exception to our own school's team. I felt like I was always trying to compete with some guys attention cause he was focused on some stupid basketball something. Boys were either playing ball, talking about it, watchin' games, playing basketball video games, watching game highlights on ESPN at 2, 4, 6 or 8:00, or walking round the town with basketball shorts on under their baggy jeans so that BOOM, at a moments notice, they could drop their pants and play basketball Immediat-damn-ly! Like "Thank God I have my basketball shorts on!!!" Hated it! And like the true girly snot I was at that young age, (and can still be today), I didn't like having to fight for anyone's full attention.

I had the cutest purses in high school. Sigh.

It's hard to tell from the pic how evil it was, sort of.

College proposed new challenges for this young wise woman of the world. Although stoked to go off to college I opted not to go too far from home cause truly, deep down inside, I would always be my parent's lil girl and was so totally attached to them. First problem, they (the evil Ohio State University Committee of Dorm Assigners - I just made that up), placed me in an all girl dorm!!! Bwhaaaaaat? There were 28 dorms on campus, a fact I'm proud to know, and only TWO of those dorms were all girl dorms!!! Mac and mother frickin Canfield Hall! I didn't choose Canfield. I guess I could say for a dramatic twist, Canfield chose me....A handful of my Heights High classmates suffered the same fate as I and were placed in Mac Hall. Why??? Whyyyyyy ? - I would cry out with arms wide open, looking to the rainy skies like Jennifer Love Hewitt in every scary movie ever made.

Living in an all girl dorm was doomed to suck for the following reasons:
1. Eeeeew
2. I'm at college! I need the full college experience of living down the hall from boys! (tee hee, boys!)
3. I hated girls, women, young ladies, whatever you wanted to call them. Please note that today that hatred does not exist within me as I am more comfortable in my own skin and embracing of the sisterhood of women.
4. The girl dorms had limited hours that boys could come over! Bwhaaaaaaat???? That's like what college was all about, right? Boys down the hall, hangin out on the quad, throwin the pig skin about..I'm just makin up shit now.

I could not wait to get out of that dorm. Seriously. I blame OSU for my low performance in my classes that freshman year. Although my extracurricular activities - non school related, AT ALL - might have effected me a tiny bit, it was really my dorms fault. Had they had not been so selfish, and just given me the desires of my heart, I would have probably done well that year, graduated Magnum Cum Something Or Other and be CEO of some kind of great whatever by some fancy name.

Let me break this down like an episode of an animal show on National Geographic: When the female lion leaves it's home town and goes off to lion college it needs to be in a coed dorm or the female lion gets really annoyed and eats lots of Cheetos, gaining the famous Freshman 15, and throws mean evil eyes at every other female lion in her Vagina face dorm.

Look at Auntie Brenna back in 1999! I had to blow this pic up so you could see my dorm room. It's littered with Spice Girl dolls and my fave Cabbage Patch, Ricky. Maybe I wasn't even mature enough for a coed dorm...Just sayin'

Dorm Life = Abstract Ricky Works of Art

Man on the hall! Nope, just me. I opted to look like a boy since we didn't have many around.

Women that I met and love to this day from Mac & Canfield Hall.

WEBBY

You want to hear a secret...shhhh. Many of the women that I met or got to know in those female dorms, turned out to be my bestest friends ever. BOTH of my children's God Mother's lived in those female dorms. What does that say? Maybe I didn't hate girls as much as I thought I did? Maybe I didn't require men to have a good time? Ya think? Nooooooo.... That year in the dorms was one of the silliest of my life. Watching endless episodes of Webster at 4:30 in the afternoon or the entire hall of girls getting ready to go out on the town! Good times! Thanks evil Ohio State University Committee of Dorm Assigners.

Bear with his God Mother Ce Ce.

Gia and her God Mother Auntie Colleen.

Talk to you later. See you at Part 3.

The Road to Embracing My Womanhood: Part One

Music: Destiny's Child "Jumpin, Jumpin"
Mood: Optimistic and weary

Hey hey now!!!!

Seriously, I didn't know that "Jumpin Jumpin" was gonna be the song playing when I started typing. How ironic. The lyrics say:

"Ladies leave your man at home, the club is full of ballas and their pockets full grown. 

And all you fellas leave ya girl with her friends cause it's 11:30 and the club is jumpin jumpin."

Let me go ahead and say, this blog post is NOT about getting to the club to meet some full grown pocketed ballas. Also, I do not do clubs. Not my scene. And 11:30 is so past my bedtime. And if I'm not asleep I'm under my blankets eating something with peanut butter on it and watching Adult Swim. BUT this post is about my reconnecting with everything about myself that screams "I am woman!"

Come. Buckle up. Ride with me on my journey of self-discovery. (Did that sound creepy at all? I was totally trying to put that vibe out there.)

Side ponytail. Can I hashtag that?

Back in the beginning of times, the 80's, I spent my young days as a girly girl. I enjoyed dressing up in my mom's heels, shoulder puffed dresses and magenta Fashion Fair lipsticks. I loathed all things physical. Sports, exercise (with the exception of Jazzericising, I could throw on some leg warmers in a second.), crossing monkey bars or climbing the rope in gym class. It wasn't that I just hated those things, but I was pretty scared of most of it. So let's see, likes to dress up, check, hated physical activity, check, boy crazy, oh yes, checkity check check!!! I was boy crazy as far back as I can remember. Elvis Presley and Davey Jones were some of my earliest crushes I can remember. In 2nd grade I heard a boy cuss in front of the classroom and I thought "Oh, well well. What are those words? I like him!"

Pink bedding, pink curtain, Fred Savage and NKOTB on my walls and my lady love Cabbage Patch Ricky Hetta in my arms. Oh and the rollers. Can't forget those.

By time I got to middle school, it was the 90's, leggings were prevalent in my closet (as they are today), and my cheeks were chubby as all get out. 

Side ponytails, scrunchies and cherry flavored chapstick helped me identify with my sprouting womanhood. Hahaha. Sorry. That's hilarious! 

My boy craziness went up a notch now that I had more 12 year old prospects to choose from. They made me giddy, childish, self-conscious and talk like a baby. I couldn't control it, the voice that is, still can't. 

In 1995 I entered high school. 

Cleveland Heights High School that is!!!! GO TIGERS! 

Y'all dont' know!

"Bone Bone Bone Bone Bone Bone Bone Bone Bone, 

tell me what cha gonna do, 

when there ain't no where to hide, 

when judgement comes for you 

cause it's gonna come...Hey now... "

Bone Thug. Look how Bizzy's hair blows in the winds of East Cleveland.

For the mother frickin record Bone Thugs-n-Harmony were not from Cleveland Heights and I was not from E. 99th but I dare you to try and tell anybody from Heights that they didn't really have a true connection with Bone!! You're liable to get caught up in a social room squabble.

Are we all thinking the same thing? Stacey Dash was too old to be playing a teenager!

Anywho, back on track. By this time my eyebrows were plucked and then drawn back in, my lips were lined with black pencil and filled in with deep plum Wet-n-Wild lip color (#508 to be exact), my closet was organized by color, Clueless was my Bible and I wrote down what I wore everyday as to not repeat an outfit for at least 45 days...I don't know if that was me being a young woman, or just being shallow....Yeahhhhh, I'm not gonna answer that.

     

My diaries were littered with boys names and "Oh my goodness, he talked to me!"- stories. My girlfriends and I found clothes not only to be an interest, or a passion, but a talent. Ah yes! It was a gift to be able to match my knee highs with the proper mini skirt and then the right feathery topped ink pen. Right? That's a gift, right. (Imagine me searching aimlessly for your approval.)

My only interest in sports were that games provided some social fun and our basketball team was pretty frickin' stellar so we got to visit Thee Ohio State University for state championship games. Our football team wassssss not so hot. I was a "trainer" for the team. What many may have perceived as me being a Water Girl was really a difficult job as a Sports Athletic Trainer. Oh my, sounds so dignified! Hahahahaha. Sorry, it's really funny to look back. One of the dificult "job" requirements was to ride on the school bus with the football team to and from games. Usually on the way to a game I'd be scoping the fellas, and on the way home scrunching my nose up from their sweaty fumes and covering my ears from hearing them talk smack about the team that just beat their lil Tiger tail feathers.....

.....I really feel like I have so much more to say. Therefore, so you may get back to your life and stop reading this blog because it is as engulfing as all three Fifty Shades books, I will stop for now. Stay tuned for more excitement of my adventures of wearing weaves, dressing like I was club kickin' it at all times, and eventually even becoming a wife and mother, and leaving the mascara behind.

Seriously, thanks for reading this cause I know you're at work and have other stuff you should be doing.