I Cried at Precious by Mel B

I cried at Precious because, for the first time, a big, black girl had the starring role in a major movie.

I cried at Precious because I could relate to her.  Her feelings that no one loved her. Being the biggest girl in class.  Her fantasies of a better life that included being the video girl on BET and the light-skinned boyfriend with good hair.  Growing up poor and depending on the State.  Having teachers who pushed you to excel when you needed it.  Friends and strangers who treat you better than your own family.

I cried at Precious because my mama was the same way – ignorant.  To chose a man over your own child.  To allow abuse to go on right under your nose.  To be jealous of your own child and allow those feelings to turn to mental and physical abuse.  To place your own child in harm’s way because you were too weak to change.

I cried at Precious because, out of all the roles Monique has played, I wonder why this one won her an Oscar.  (But I feel the same way about Halle’s Oscar.)  Are these the type of roles we have to play in order to get Hollywood recognition and validation? 

I cried at Precious because of all stereotypes and generalizations I saw.  The teenage mother.  The sexual abuse victim.  The single mother.  The absent, abusive father.  The broken, unhealthy relationships.  The uneducated black people.  Women being viewed as sexual objects, not to be respected.  Women who don’t even respect themselves.    

I cried at Precious because, even though this was a movie, there are so many Preciouses out there.   The odds were stacked against her before she even had a chance to help herself.  And now the odds are stacked against her children.  And so the cycle continues.  And even though she is on the right path, it’s going to be a struggle.  And a lot of people give up because they can’t handle the struggle.

I cried at Precious.

Fat Girl by Jadestone Doll

originally posted at: http://allpoetry.com/poem/1932061


Weird looks and stifled laughs.
Obvious whispers and earthquake jokes.
Whenever I walk out my door,
People act like they've never seen a fat girl before.

As if I'm some rare abomination.
I'm just an embarrassment,
To our self-absorbed nation.
People who look like me,
Should never go outside.

No one sees my beautiful eyes.
No one sees my perfect long red hair.
No one sees my sensuous lips.
They focus on my belly,
Not caring about the rest of me.

At times it bothers me.
It even makes me cry.
Yet I know,
That if people really feel the need,
To waste their time making fun of me,
They are the ones,
Who are really hurting inside.


© Tiffannie Brinkhaus, All rights reserved 

Big and Beautiful by Jadestone Doll

originally posted at: http://allpoetry.com/poem/1429557


I am beautiful,
and I don't care what you think about me.
My body may not be perfect,
but I have strength in personality.
Too many people like me,
let people like you bring them down.
Well I won't stand for it,
not ever and not now.

We are all different.
We come in all shapes, sizes, and colors.
No one is inferior or better than another.
So what makes you think,
you have the right to criticize me?
If you don't like me,
you are welcome to leave.

I may not look like barbie.
I may not look good in a bikini.
I may not be able to wear a size five.
I may be a little round in the middle,
and have thunder thighs.
But when I look in the mirror,
I know I like what I see,
Because I can appreciate the uniqueness,
that makes me
me.



© Tiffannie Brinkhaus, All rights reserved 

Jill Scott "Nothing Is For Nothing"

Fast forward to 2:16... This is powerful piece by Jill Scott. I love the poem because it reminds me of my younger days... It's not necessarily about being a chubby girl, but for me it exposes why I chose a certain path some years back.

(Un)Pretty .... by Stacey Adamz

Growing up, I was always awkward. I was tall, light skinned, had long hair and glasses. In an inner city school surrounded by darker skinned girls with short, non natural hair and that were normal height didn't make life any easier. The boys paid attention to them. They liked me because i was kind of good at kickball and i watched wrestling.

Growin up, i always wanted to be on the pretty girls. The ones who boys looked at when they walked past. The girls that boys wants to talk to on the phone late at night. The girls who boys wanted to make their girlfriend and pass notes to in the hallway.

I've never really been one of those girls. But I've always wanted to be. I always wanted to be pretty. Sure, I've been told that I'm attractive. Some even call me sexy. But that isn't good enough. Call me vain. But there is a difference between being attractive, cute, sexy, and pretty. Atractive means that you aren't ugly. You aren't really any of the other words, but you aren't butt ugly. Nothing really to write home about. Cute girls are the ones that are just that: Cute. They are freaking adorable. They have dimples or look younger than they actually are. They are just cute as a button. Sexy is just sex with a "y" at the end of it. You have sex appeal. You are sexually appealling. You look good enough for someone to want to have sex with. Whoopee!

But when you are pretty, people take notice. Time slows down when you walk into a room. Men and women alike stop in their tracks. People magazine picks out the Prettiest People of the Year. Pretty people grace magazine covers. Pretty people walk the runways. Pretty people rule the world. Think about it. Seriously think about it.

Sometimes i just sit back and wish i was one of the pretty girls of the world.....

Touches In The Night ..... by Mel B.

Growing up, I was already thicker than the other girls.  When I grew breasts around 8 or so, my mama didn't buy me a bra because she said it was fat.  When I started my cycle at 11, she said I must have done something wrong.  My femininity was never celebrated growing up.  I had womanly curves, but I was very much still a little girl.  My mama has recently admitted that she was scared that someone would touch me because I was so shapely.  Well, they did...  I wrote this on March 10, 2007 at 8:40 a.m.  It's called "Touches in the Night."

 

I've had touches in the night

Hesitant ones, rough ones, inappropriate ones

Ones to "check to see if I'd wet the bed"

This was a touch in the night that led

To my sister and I running next door

The police, ambulance, hospital, and more

Mama had left us with the touch alone

At the end of it all, we four ended up back at home

But I don't remember the touch touching

anymore

I've had touches in the night

Drunk ones, rough ones, inappropriate ones

Ones who touched when my aunt

Was asleep next to me

She was also as drunk as she could be

These touches should have been touching on her

Instead, they thought with her niece they'd share

Touches who in the daytime spoke of one day marrying her

There in the night tried pushing past my barriers

Thank God they were unsuccessful

 

I've had touches in the night

Accused ones, rough ones, inappropriate ones

Those who, I guess, put off for years

One day gave in to what my mom had feared

On a night when his real children had stayed

Crawled in my bed and tried to take what I'd saved

He gave up, finding out it was hard

The next day, mama locked us both out in the yard

I stayed with Big Mama for several months

I couldn't bear living there after that stunt

Eventually I went home to be with my mom

But I've never told her exactly what was wrong

 

I've had touches in the night

Stolen ones, rough ones, inappropriate ones

Who I'd thought was kinda cute during the day

Who later came in the room where I lay

Asleep in his sister's house

Still fully clothed in my swimsuit

It took me years to finally speak the truth

My swimsuit barrier he pushed aside

Just like with the ones before him,

I never opened my eyes

He laid there til morning to cover up the lie

I had my daughter nine months later

 

I've had touches in the night

That stole my innocence away

Something that belong to my husband someday

But God has given me a true man indeed

This is touch in the morning he brings

A welcoming touch - gentle and loving

Healing and soothing, it speaks to my soul

Those touches in the night may have been unclean

But with God, their sins and mine are redeemed

And there is nothing like the touches I'm getting now! 

Into My Skin by Angelic Melodii

I’MMA FULL-FIGURED WOMAN,
That grew up with low self esteem,
Other girls dressed up & played with Barbie,
But I dreamed to be like mommy,
Scurrying’ back & forth on the court,
On the hood’s basketball team.
I had all the male attention,
But yet, I felt as though I didn’t exist,
I just wanted to be noticed, maybe the main focus,
But all I got was a slap on the butt
For shootin’ jays, stickin’ to the plays,
& makin’ the net go… (((swish)))…but…

…INTO MY SKIN…
…Into my skin, loneliness moved in…

The prissy girls played the clarinet & flute,
To sit & be cute,
But I was beatin’ drums,
With the strength of Donkey Kong,
With the heart & enthusiasm from my historical root.
Hated dresses because my legs were short & stubby,
….I was energetic…
…but though it’s genetic,
I still remained chubby.
Had a crush on my childhood best friend,
But he considered me as one of his boys,
Didn’t want a girl whose armpit smelled worse than his,
With a stench that suddenly destroys, but…

…INTO MY SKIN…
…Into my skin, self-doubt moved in…

Hostess was my homie,
We was always chillin’,
But that crème fillin’,
Started catching up,
…Thighs thickenin’…
…Hips spreading…
…. Unwillin’…
I was not only that pretty face,
I was insecure about the dispersal of my weight.
I went from junior to misses,
But as I tried to fit my thighs into the misses size,
…my thigh was too thick.
I told the sales lady,
“…these must be runnin’ small,
Because these jeans just don’t fit…”
So by surprise,
She said, “Sweetie, if you walk back there to “plus size”,
That’ll definitely do the trick”, but…

…INTO MY SKIN…
..Into my skin, shame moved in…

I was fifteen,
& he said, “You’re the most beautiful queen,
Not a stick figure standard on Cosmo Magazine”,
Indeed, he lied just to get in my jeans,
But I said “NO”, I wanna’ be pure & clean.
He got mad & held me down,
Undoin’ my clothes & said
“Don’t make a sound”.
I was nearly rapped until I felt somethin’ new,
Looked into his eyes & said,
“What would Jesus do?”
Because my esteem was low,
I began doin’ things to fill empty voids,
Sex, weed, liquor…
But my spirit was utterly destroyed, but…

…INTO MY SKIN…
Into my skin, more demons moved in…
Wreakin’ havoc on God’s plan with oppression,
We give them too much power, will & authority,
We wrestle not against flesh & blood,
But spiritual wickedness & principalities…
I bind up confusion, low esteem & self doubt,
In Jesus name, we have the power to cast those devils out, so

INTO MY SKIN…
Into my skin, the Holy Spirit moved in…

I began to find myself, love myself,
& stop hidin’ my stories behind the computer screen,
I’m standin’ before masses & pursuin’ my every dream.
I got a purpose on the inside & its time to give birth,
But for a while, I was a hindrance,
I lost sight of my worth.
I learned to lift my head up & never look down,
Woulda’ never found my beauty by calculatin’ every pound.
I was told I had the power to make any man drool,
I refuse to use my goodies as a man-pullin’ tool.
I have power in my words that everyone has yet to see,
I’m anointed, I’m beautiful,
But most importantly,
I’m a child of a KING.

INTO MY SKIN…
Into my skin, self esteem moved in…

Lost 10-15 pounds,
Love handles & waist goin’ down,
Never had a butt, but you know what,
My low self esteem doors have long been shut.
Never to be reopened,
I’m standing tall…above all,
Because I found myself…I love myself,
& refuse to hide behind the computer screen,
I’m standin’ before masses & pursuin’ my every dream.
I found that peace that surpasses all understandin’,
I’m pushin’ away excess food to prevent my waist from expandin’.
We’ve all had insecurities that was barriers in our lane,
But there comes a day when you gotta’ stand up to those demons, look them in the eye & say,
“No More Pain”…
…because…
…INTO MY SKIN…
Into my skin, CHANGE moved in…

© Angelic Melodii [Carla Johnson] 2010

Confessions of a Chubby Girl....by Stacey Adamz

Breaking the Cycle by Sarah B

I've always been bigger.

As I've gotten older, my weight has changed so much over the years. The smallest I have even been was a 14 and the biggest was a 26 (this is as of February '10). Right now, I'm sitting comfortably at a size 18, which is the size that I was in before I ended up pregnant with my son Reign. Now, being a bigger girl growing up, I was ALWAYS apprehensive about approaching a guy or I was always conscious of the fact that I was one of the biggest people I hung around. Most of my friends are tiny, petite things and I always felt like people would look at us as a group and think, "Who the hell is the big ole bitch they're hanging out with?"

It was always awkward when I was younger and would cruise Lindbergh or go out to "all ages" clubs because all the guys would be hitting on the cute friends and I would be purse sitting. It took me quite a few groups of friends that I felt comfortable around to even want to go out. To this day, I still don’t go out with certain people because I get anxious in large crowds of people that I'm being judged and it sucks.

I think my insecurities have led to the string of unsuccessful relationships that I've had too. Pre-separation from my husband, I always felt I had to settle for whoever gave me the time of day. My long term relationship before my soon to be ex husband was for four years with a guy we will call Adam.

When I met Adam, he was a talker and he was not bad looking at all. At first, I was amazed he was even talking to me. He lived in Illinois and I still live in South County at the time. He ended up coming over one night to drink and staying at my house for three weeks. I was so happy because I would go to work and come home and dinner would be done and he was just amazing. He had a young daughter (Joey was about 4 months old) who he said lived with the mom and he never got to see her. I didn't even question it because I know how scandalous some baby momma's can be.

At the end of the third week, Adam started acting strange and then one night I woke up at 3 in the morning and he was still up. I went in the living room and tried to talk to him and he wouldn't talk for the longest time. After about an hour, he told me he couldn't be with me anymore and that I needed to take him home. I was devastated (I was also very young for the record) but I refused to take him home at 3 in the morning. I used the excuse that I had to work the next day, but really I was hoping that he would change his mind.

I didn't get any sleep that night because I tried to rationalize with him over the whole situation. I went to work and was a zombie, came home and what little bit of stuff he did have (more specifically the shit I bought him over the past few weeks) was packed and he was ready to go. It was a Thursday, so I figured that since I was going to take him home, I was going to head to the pool hall by his parents house, also the same damn place we met.

I took a shower and took my sweet time getting ready, making sure to do my hair and makeup just right, wearing the low cut top for showing off some cleavage, hoping that I looked cute. I really didn't feel cute though. At that time I was a size 22, having just got back from college and working at a desk.

I dropped Adam off at home, went and picked up a few friends and headed to the pool hall. I think Adam didn't know I was going there because after a couple hours, his ass roles in with this red haired chick. Now, I am a firm believer that, for the most part, there is cute red haired chicks, and then there are some not so cute ones. Every now and then you will come across an average one, but this one looked like a bulldog to me. Worse off, he had his arm around her shoulders and kissed her before he went to the bar.

I kept it cool though, I tell ya. It was hard because every inch of me wanted to go up to that bar and scream at him, but I didn't give him the power. After little bit, I guess he noticed me and my friends because he came over and tried to act like everything was cool. I look at his "girl" and she is chatting with one of her friends, but kept looking at me. I ended up asking who she was, and he informs me that it's his baby momma. I turned around and walked off and went outside.

I probably wasn't outside too long before BM comes out there and point blank asks me if I had been dating Adam. I kick myself in the ass for this everyday now, but I told that bitch "No." She proceeds to tell me good because they have been together for 4 years and she knew better than to believe that he would ever be with a fat ass like me.

Should've told her then, but I looked at her, said I wouldn't waste my time on his ass and went back into the hall. I didn't speak to either one of them for the rest of the night, but I did go home a polish off a 1/5th of "SoCo" that night.

It was about a week and Adam called me to see why he hadn't heard from me. I hung-up on him and let the phone ring when he called back 20 times. I ended up showing up at a bar that he was at with his friends, sans "The BM."I made it a point to say hi to all his friends, and ignore him.

This was one of those bars I could drink at underage, so I proceeded to order a pitcher and put a straw in it. I was sitting there drinking on the pitcher when he came up to me and asked if he could have some. I told him nope, go call your BM. I would've figured that after a while, he would've left, but he didn't, and

I proceeded to get drunker. Then he started singing the songs from the jukebox to me, and I was done. I went outside to leave and as I was putting my car in reverse, I see his friend "James" standing behind it.

James was not letting me drive home, so I get stuck in a car with Adam and James. Insult to injury, Adam insisted on taking me home first. I acted like I was sleeping the whole thirty minute drive, while Adam attempted a conversation with me. When I got out the car at my house, I almost fell on my face and Adam caught me, and I lost it. I cried like a baby and he held me.....then he ended up staying the night :(

This started a four year cycle of him playing me and BM at the same time, while he was picking up other girls at other bars. I knew what was going on the whole time, BM didn't. I always told myself that if I changed me, then he would stop. I dropped to a size 14, he still did it. I worked 2 jobs so he didn't have to work, he still did it. I got him a cell phone on my plan, he still did it. Hews even engaged to BM and me at the same time! The BM and I had it out many occasions, as well as me and a few other fake bitches that would smile in my face and sleep with Adam because they thought I didn't know. I knew it all.

One night, we went out together. I was so happy because he actually paid and we had a great time. I was thinking in my head FINALLY! This big girl is going tube happy! We got back to his parent's house from the bar (we ended up having to stay there because I lost my house shortly after we broke up, then we got booted from our apartment because he kept taking the rent money to the bar instead of paying it) and he set his phone on our nightstand and went to the bathroom. It was about 2 in the morning and he gets a text message. I'm drunk and had my big girl panties on and figured, "Hmm...I pay the bill. I'm checking it."

The text was from some chick from another bar that was on my pool league! She texted, "SORRY BABY, YOU HAD TO MAKE THE FAT BITCH HAPPY. JUST REMEMBER I LOVE YOU.”I was shutting his phone when he walked back in the room. He asked what I was doing and if I would've been sober, I would've probably swallowed it and continued on. Alcohol changes you. I showed him the text and he lost it. He started screaming at me, saying I had no right to go through his phone and the only reason he was with a girl like me is because he felt sorry for me. Then I noticed his fist was cocked back and I was like,"Bitch if you're going to fucking hit me, hit me." Well, he didn't hit me but he put me up against the wall by my throat and started choking me. I started screaming and swinging. I had no idea what I was aiming at, but I was not letting him do this.

After a couple minutes, his dad busted in the room and threw him out the door. I dropped to the floor and started crying while I was screaming. His mom, a fellow chubby girl, came in and made me go in the living room. Adam and his dad were outside screaming at each other. Adam was calling me every name in the book and his dad was defending me. Adam then stormed back in the house and looked at me sitting on the couch with his mom. His nose was bleeding and swelling and his eye was puffy, plus he was bleeding out of his mouth. Immediately I panicked and I was going to apologize (stupid ass) but then he pointed at me and said, "This fat bitch is leaving tonight or I am." His mom looked at him and said, "Pack your shit."

He went in our room and started breaking shit, ripping my pictures, packing his clothes and I looked at his mom and told her I would leave in the morning. Regardless of what her son had done, he was still her son. I wasn't going to be the cause for ripping the family apart. After a little while, he quit throwing hit and his dad went in there and said I was leaving, but he still had to leave too. I set up a pallet on the couch (all the furniture in the bedroom was mine, but I didn't want any of it) and laid there, trying to sleep. I saw the light go off in "our" room and Adam walked out. He tried to give me a hug and I told him to get the fuck off of me. He curled up in the floor and cried.

I left the next day, and avoided him like the plague. He has sent me invites on Facebook and I ignore them. I still talk to the rest of his family, but they respect that I don't want any contact with him.

Basically, after that relationship, I ended up with my future ex husband. And the cycle repeated itself (minus the physical abuse). Now that I have been away from him for six months, I realize, I don't deserve any of that shit just because I'm bigger. I deserve to be happy and be with someone who will love me for me and even when they are irate with me, they won't throw my weight in my face. I am finding I am happy being a bigger girl. I still have my self conscious moments, but so do everyone else. My dearest friend in the world is 5'1" and 107lbs soaking wet. She is absolutely gorgeous and she still has her own "Self-doubt Days." So what if someone doesn't like me if I'm big? Then they aren't worth my time. I wish it hadn't taken me 10 years to figure this out BUT I wouldn't change a thing.

I have now started talking to someone who I've known for 16 years, and he loves me the way I look. He says he kicks himself in the ass all the time for us not dating when we were younger, but he admits he was superficial, and he apologized for it. I told him it was in the past, let's work on the future and he tells me everyday how beautiful I am and how amazing of a person I am and that he is glad he decided to take a chance with me. He figured now I wouldn't be interested, but he was my first crush and now I got the guy!

Jill Scott - The Thickness (lyrics)