Confidence vs Courage

     I am generally a confident woman. I know I'm not perfect (not that perfect exists), and embrace my flaws, because I know I am beautiful. I stumbled upon this dress while trying to quickly grab something for my friend's birthday party. The dress is amaze...very summertime. I loved the back. I loved the color. I loved the cuts, but I did not like the dress.....on me. Something about it made me self-conscious. I did not buy it because there just wasn't that umphf. I knew I'd be turning heads *insert whistling sounds*, but just couldn't quite bring myself to swipe my card. As I reflect I wonder if it was my own personal issues barricading what could have been an epic dress. I showed a friend and she said I was being silly and that I better go back and get my dress. LOL! 
     I've never owned a piece like this so maybe it was first-time butterflies. But really, I am wondering if I had a lack of confidence or a lack of courage. 

What are your thoughts?

my family...my heart

Snapped a couple of pics with the fam-bam at my cousin's grad party! 

my amazing, beautiful mama!

brodie & I

sisters ♥♥♥! 

understand what I'm seeing?!

Hello beautiful people-

     I'm between a size 12 and 14. I've gotten up to a size 16 at one point, but have been "thick(er)" since 6th grade. I have a diverse range of friends in the fact that we are literally all shapes and sizes. Some are extremely pear shaped, some top heavy, some lean, some petite, some top and bottom heavy. You get the idea. 

     I look at myself and I have my insecurities just like everyone, nothing out of the ordinary. Amidst conversation one of my girlfriends was telling me how she feels self-conscious about her body due to her recent weight gain. I'm thinking and trying to understand how she could feel this way. Yes, she may have gained a couple, maybe had to buy a pair of new jeans, but looking at myself in comparison to her I really don't understand how she could feel this way. It's not like she has to go into H&M try on a pair of pants and battle with the european style cuts though, right? And not to mention how much positive "play" she's been getting from the opposite sex, right? Or the fact that her new size isn't frowned upon by society, right? She replied that the issue goes far beyond those points. 

So I question you all: when someone complements us we humbly accept, but do we secretly wonder why'd they say that?

     I was looking at recent tagged pictures of myself on Facebook, and I was turned off. When speaking to the author, she gave continuous complements. Unfortunately, I wasn't quite convinced. Yes, I am a woman esteemed, probably one of the most esteemed women you will ever met, but no matter what my loved ones say when I look at myself (via mirror, pictures, etc.) I see something different. Something that is neither worse, nor better, but purely different. 

     We confide our bodily annoyances with our close friends and they say "Look at Jane Doe! Be happy because it could always be worse;" or "Look at Jane Doe...you're not that bad." Our friends, peers, and especially members of the opposite sex have the biggest impact on our "looking glass self." Looking glass self is the concept developed by Charles Horton Cooley that says we develop self-image through interaction with others, based on how they see us. So when friends complement us we may get this essence of "Yeah you're right...Beyonce may have to watch out for me." And this provides temporary relief until we walk down the street or see that celebrity, or worst of all, see a horrible picture of ourselves. Then we re-enter the cycle.

     Surely we are our biggest critic and worst enemy. This just shows that no matter how big, small, round, or flat we may be everyday we constantly fight a battle with ourselves. A battle that no one will or can understand; it's just our duty to us to find that medium ground.

xoxo,

    ♥ Jojo 

maybe 30 is the new 20....

...because people in their thirties aren't ready to mature. I dated this guy, we'll call him Lenny. Lenny, 29, lived in the NYC area and had a really prestigous, high paying  job in the business field. We met at the mall. We talked and flirted, and before it got awkward I asked if we could exchange contact information and hang out sometime. He wasn't gay or married so he agreed! 

   We talked and talked...even e-mailed haha. After a week of communication,and solidifying our intentions with each other, I'd asked him when we were going to have some face-to-face time, maybe even a date. And he hit me with the "oh my schedule has been so busy. I'm soo tired this weekend." Oh ok. Cool. Not a problem. I'm a pretty understanding person so it was ok...  

  A couple weeks (like less than two) went by and still nothing. We'd have amazing conversations about everything, but then when I'd try to schedule some personal time I constantly got: "This weekend is boys' weekend...hanging with the guys all weekend" or "I'm working this weekend so it won't be good." Now let me tell you something, I'm not the one to sit around and waste my time on a guy. I'm too fly, too young, and my clock hasn't even began ticking yet so I'm good; I'm not stressing after no man. So I started to wonder why this mofo thought I'd stick around like a desperate loser and play his game. Psh! You see he never had the time to chill with me or take me on a date, BUT he had alllllllllllll the time in the world for me to come over his apartment, at night, with the lights low, and probably some Barry White in the background,  and do what grown folks do. SIKE! Not this woman and not this lifetime. See, I'm the type of girl who wants my mind and spirit stimulated one million times before my body. Point: If you're looking for a casual hook-up, don't look at me.

   So finally I got tired of the nonsense. I told him I need a man that's going to be A MAN and act accordingly. Someone who was serious minded and wasn't just out for sex. If he wanted to play games he could've been honest. I called him a coward. ...we haven't talked since.

I thought since men mature slower than women twenty-nine would be a good age. Why is it in our society commitment is constantly being pushed back? I. Don't. Know. Maybe I'm too conservative when it comes to relationships!

 ♥ Jojo

a quick lil something...

...that really ruffled my feathers! My little cousin's father picked me up from the train station yesterday. The first thing he said to me, not even hello, was "Oh Jojo...what is that?!?! What did you do? What's going on with your hair?" I said "What? You don't like my hair?" He says "Looks like you stuck your finger in the light socket."
PAUSE!!!! Hold the fuck up!
This stupid little comment really got under my skin? Now all of a sudden I look crazy because I'm wearing my REAL hair the way God gave it to me??!?! *geez I should've said this but the good comebacks only come after*
I didn't expect him to be stylish, or even have nicer taste, but this comment is just pure ignorant and frustrating.
Life lesson: If you don't have anything nice to say keep your damn mouth closed!

you had me at HELLO!

Hey lovlies!
          When you see me with my unstraightened natural hair, what's the first thing you think? Many people have many different opinions of it. I'm really concerned about the opinions of others,  but the actions of others. This Saturday I lossened my threads, shook out my 20-24" of virgin indian hair, and rocked my roots once again. I had a pretty upscale fundraising gig Saturday night when I broght it out. I wore a Bantu Knot Out with a little bang in my face and very natural make-up (as I prefer).
          My coworkers-about 99% white-all tell me how nice my hair is and how they wish they could do that with their hair and how cool it is. The list continues. Last week while conversing with one, she told me how beautiful she thinks it is; how it's a symbolism of true beauty and how hurtful she feels when other cultures try to conform to the European ideaology of beauty. I guess before I tell this story I should back it up a little.
          Now it is no secret New Yorkers aren't the friendliest people..like in the whole entire world. I feel like it's my lucky day when someone smiles at me, and if someone says "hi" to me, I've hit the jackpot! This morning while waiting at the train station, I passed a group of elderly, black women. Maybe they sensed my affinity (that's really an obsession) with the elderly. As I walked pass they all starred at me and smiled so hard and made a pleasent effort to indiviually speak to me. I was equally as happy to return the greetings and happily stepped to the facility. While in the bathroom this sparked the topic of this post: is natural hair more inviting? Does it make the women seem more approachable?
When I wear my natural hair, I more frequently get smiles and greetings (especially from white men). People seem to stare more, speak more, and are a little more polite. I get approached many more times with my natural hair then with straight weave. Why? Is it because I am feeling more beautiful on the inside and this is portrayed outwardly? Not sure but it's definitely something to ponder!
 I know I am NOT my hair, but it is certainly a big part of me!

   

MacBook fun w/ the lil cuzzo!

recovery

     Three weeks ago I was given some of the worst news of my life. I had one of the best dreams ever and about her. We had soooo much fun. I woke up with her on my mind. I called my aunt to check up on her. My uncle answered. Everything was in slow motion as the words left his lips. At first, I thought he was speaking a different language; I refused to believe I understood perfectly what he just said: Grandma died last night. I couldn't talk. My knees buckled as I fell to the floor crying and screaming. What?! How?! Why?!  I couldn't talk, couldn't get up, couldn't open my eyes. I just sat there on the floor as the tears exited my eyes and snot my nose. 
     When I regained consciousness, my aunt told me it was for the better. Grandma had been suffering too much. To the point she was grimacing while in her coma, frowning. Months before we talked and she told me she was ready to give up. She told me she was tired. The only thing that gave her strength to fight was her children and grandchildren begging her to remain strong. 
     But not anymore. She went home to rest. All of her suffering is done now. I felt so selfish. I wanted her here on this earth with me, not realizing she had gone somewhere her pain and suffering was over. No more pain. No  more medications. No more nothing. Nothing but Jesus. She left to go be with her Lord. She was resting. These realizations ease my selfish wishes. 
    As I looked at her in her casket, I couldn't believe it. It's like I knew she was dead, but this was me coming to terms with the reality. I wrote her a letter and sent it to heaven with her. I know she's watching over me. She knows I love her. I am at peace and so is she.


RIP Grandma

Jonathan & I

Me and my lil cuzzo playing around on feaux-toe-boo-th! 

Random: I got BANGED!!! What do you all think about my bangs?

#np Greatest Love of All - Whitney Houston

(for more pics and my little video I made check out my Youtube channel)