Lordy, Lordy! I'm No Longer 40!
Wow, 40 years have come and gone! Where did the time go?
Although, I've only been 41 for two days, I feel as if I've reached a pivotal point in this journey called life.
Excuse me while I venture back in time...
The world welcomed my birth with open arms. Actually, my mother rejected me 3 times because she thought the nurses had switched me. WOW!
It didn't pay to be born a lighter shade of pale to a woman of color... in the 60s! Thank goodness for persistence! I guess the 3rd time truly was a charm... for me!
I also have a laundry list of famous folk I share this day with... Awesome!
This is also the decade my stepfather, George Wong, came into my life. He's pops to my half sister & brother. Apparently, my mom thought it was a good idea to remarry him, and because of him and the U.S. Army, I got to spend 3 years in Germany and 2.5 in Belgium. Not an awful deal in my book. However, his 2 voluntary tours in Vietnam wreaked havoc onhis psyche. Needless to say, I have a lot of memories during this time that need to be deleted.
I kissed living overseas goodbye 'cause the folks decided to ship us off to live with our grandparents. I'm thinkin' they wanted some alone time. Plus, this is when my mom first started getting sick, so I can't really say I blame them much.
Living with my grandparents vacuumed (nice word for sucked) "big time"!
Papa (sounds like Pawh Pawh) was pretty heavy-handed and took to whoppin' us like we were rugs in need of constant beatin'.
Grandmama had a sharp tongue, AND she was the proud owner of a registered handgun! She had raised to sons who had spent many a year in California's "correctional" facilities, so it was no big surprise to learn she had one.
Papa was shocked 'cause when he found out, he quit sassin' her.
My great-grandmother (and Godmother), Big Mama, kept to herself for the most part, but spoke up whenever I needed some defending. She was also a tobacco-spittin', God-fearin', don't-take-nuttin'-from-nobody kind of gal! Thank goodness for godmothers!
This is also the decade some other "good" things happened...
My parents divorced... for a second and final time.
I learned how to play the flute and played it for nearly 6 years.
I was a cheerleader for a New York minute my sophomore year.
I was voted class clown (no shock there) my senior year.
This is also a time in my life where I was sportin' a mean Jheri Curl!
The 80s!
Since I believed that my mother knew best, I learned that I would not become a marine biologist at UC - Berkeley.
According to her, there weren't a lot of "us" (i.e. black people) in that field, and I should choose something else. It would've been better for her to simply say, "I can't afford $30K a year, so join the military."
I chose the Navy for the following reasons:
The Navy ended up not being a bad decision.
I'm now in my second year at NAS Keflavik, Iceland, and I'm thinkin' my liver could use a break.
I found out after boot camp that this was where I was headed.
I also discovered, shortly upon arriving, that 18 was the legal age to drink, so most of memories from my time here are blurry.
This is also the decade where I experienced a lot of loss in my life.
While serving at NAS Patuxent River, Maryland, I was told, by way of snail mail (since email was not a big deal back then), that my mother was terminally ill.
She told me that she had six to twelve months left. Because of this news and the fact that the Navy couldn't offer me a duty station closer to home, I said goodbye to active duty life four months later.
And I was bitter and angry for having to give up my life that she told me I had to live.
Less than one month after I get out of the Navy, my godmother checks out to diabetes.
Eleven months later, lymphoma takes my mother... and thanks to my medical training from the Air National Guard (which I felt I needed to get so I could care for her), I was there in the end.
That same year, I became a nanny to hide from the pain, which was a really bad move.
Imagine having to be upbeat when you feel as if you're in the pit of despair.
I quit that job eleven months later.
A year after my mom died, I met a guy.
Because I him, I ended up in Vegas. Since I knew no one and had no money, I made the choice to work as a stripper. What better way to put those military skills into play than to take off all my clothes. }insert more sarcasm here}
I was searching for solace in all the wrong places.
I ended up marrying that guy after only knowing him for 2 months.
Luckily, I snapped out of it 6 months later and left him.
I embarked on a physical transformation challenge brought on from an EAS ad I saw in a magazine.
At the time, the best transformation won a Corvette and some cold, hard cash. Since I look really, I'm mean really, good in 'Vettes, I figured I had this one in the bag.
I went from 26% BF to 9.5 in only 10 weeks (contest length was 12 weeks)! Unfortunately, I didn't hire a professional photographer or get a boob job (since the "transformation" stole my old ones), so I didn't even get a nod! {sigh}
Not overly dismayed, I stuck with my gym obsession and kept working out for at least 2 hours a day for nearly 2 years before I pulled my head out of my ass. I had become so vain that I didn't even recognize myself. Thank goodness for enlightenment!
This is also the decade where I experienced intense love, more heartache, and tremendous joy!
I met and fell madly in love with my son's father.
I later discovered, the feelings were not mutual, and I ended up kicking him to the curb... when my Prince was 3 months and 2 days old.
Shortly before my Prince's 4th birthday I found myself living in a community where I would feel more alone and afraid. I was now living with autism. "What was autism?", I thought. I was about to find out... and then some.
In 2007, I met a man I did not like very much... but he was better than nothing.
I was still hiding from the pain... I would marry him the following year.
I had been planning this milestone celebration for years!
The plan was to head to Vegas with the girls and hoop and holler it up like it was 1999! Sadly, 2H's (2nd husband) Christmas present to me (an all day spa treatment which happen to include the facial from hell) didn't agree with me, and my face looked like a few folks had gone slap happy on it with knobby ugly sticks!
I ended up staying inside for almost 10 days because VANITY was still my favorite sin.
No celebration, and no Vegas!
Little did I know God had other "celebrations" headed my way.
Against my better judgment, I got married that July.
I got a book deal that October.
Americans would do something unprecedented and vote in our nation's first black president that November.
And my son would have his best Christmas yet... trains, trains, and more trains!
P.S. 2H and I separated in April 2009 and divorced that August. As for marriage... never again!
I am looking forward to 50... but for now, I will simply enjoy being 41.
Although, I've only been 41 for two days, I feel as if I've reached a pivotal point in this journey called life.
Excuse me while I venture back in time...
January 8, 1968:
The world welcomed my birth with open arms. Actually, my mother rejected me 3 times because she thought the nurses had switched me. WOW!
It didn't pay to be born a lighter shade of pale to a woman of color... in the 60s! Thank goodness for persistence! I guess the 3rd time truly was a charm... for me!
I also have a laundry list of famous folk I share this day with... Awesome!
This is also the decade my stepfather, George Wong, came into my life. He's pops to my half sister & brother. Apparently, my mom thought it was a good idea to remarry him, and because of him and the U.S. Army, I got to spend 3 years in Germany and 2.5 in Belgium. Not an awful deal in my book. However, his 2 voluntary tours in Vietnam wreaked havoc onhis psyche. Needless to say, I have a lot of memories during this time that need to be deleted.
January 8, 1978:
I kissed living overseas goodbye 'cause the folks decided to ship us off to live with our grandparents. I'm thinkin' they wanted some alone time. Plus, this is when my mom first started getting sick, so I can't really say I blame them much.
Living with my grandparents vacuumed (nice word for sucked) "big time"!
Papa (sounds like Pawh Pawh) was pretty heavy-handed and took to whoppin' us like we were rugs in need of constant beatin'.
Grandmama had a sharp tongue, AND she was the proud owner of a registered handgun! She had raised to sons who had spent many a year in California's "correctional" facilities, so it was no big surprise to learn she had one.
Papa was shocked 'cause when he found out, he quit sassin' her.
My great-grandmother (and Godmother), Big Mama, kept to herself for the most part, but spoke up whenever I needed some defending. She was also a tobacco-spittin', God-fearin', don't-take-nuttin'-from-nobody kind of gal! Thank goodness for godmothers!
This is also the decade some other "good" things happened...
My parents divorced... for a second and final time.
I learned how to play the flute and played it for nearly 6 years.
I was a cheerleader for a New York minute my sophomore year.
I was voted class clown (no shock there) my senior year.
This is also a time in my life where I was sportin' a mean Jheri Curl!
The 80s!
Since I believed that my mother knew best, I learned that I would not become a marine biologist at UC - Berkeley.
According to her, there weren't a lot of "us" (i.e. black people) in that field, and I should choose something else. It would've been better for her to simply say, "I can't afford $30K a year, so join the military."
I chose the Navy for the following reasons:
- I felt that I was too cute for the Army.
- I didn't think I was smart enough for the Air Force, even though, I was mostly an A student.
- There was no way in hell I was joining the Marines, so I could be tortured for 16 fuckin' weeks.
The Navy ended up not being a bad decision.
January 8, 1988:
I'm now in my second year at NAS Keflavik, Iceland, and I'm thinkin' my liver could use a break.
I found out after boot camp that this was where I was headed.
I also discovered, shortly upon arriving, that 18 was the legal age to drink, so most of memories from my time here are blurry.
This is also the decade where I experienced a lot of loss in my life.
While serving at NAS Patuxent River, Maryland, I was told, by way of snail mail (since email was not a big deal back then), that my mother was terminally ill.
She told me that she had six to twelve months left. Because of this news and the fact that the Navy couldn't offer me a duty station closer to home, I said goodbye to active duty life four months later.
And I was bitter and angry for having to give up my life that she told me I had to live.
Less than one month after I get out of the Navy, my godmother checks out to diabetes.
Eleven months later, lymphoma takes my mother... and thanks to my medical training from the Air National Guard (which I felt I needed to get so I could care for her), I was there in the end.
That same year, I became a nanny to hide from the pain, which was a really bad move.
Imagine having to be upbeat when you feel as if you're in the pit of despair.
I quit that job eleven months later.
A year after my mom died, I met a guy.
Because I him, I ended up in Vegas. Since I knew no one and had no money, I made the choice to work as a stripper. What better way to put those military skills into play than to take off all my clothes. }insert more sarcasm here}
I was searching for solace in all the wrong places.
I ended up marrying that guy after only knowing him for 2 months.
Luckily, I snapped out of it 6 months later and left him.
January 8, 1998:
I embarked on a physical transformation challenge brought on from an EAS ad I saw in a magazine.
At the time, the best transformation won a Corvette and some cold, hard cash. Since I look really, I'm mean really, good in 'Vettes, I figured I had this one in the bag.
I went from 26% BF to 9.5 in only 10 weeks (contest length was 12 weeks)! Unfortunately, I didn't hire a professional photographer or get a boob job (since the "transformation" stole my old ones), so I didn't even get a nod! {sigh}
Not overly dismayed, I stuck with my gym obsession and kept working out for at least 2 hours a day for nearly 2 years before I pulled my head out of my ass. I had become so vain that I didn't even recognize myself. Thank goodness for enlightenment!
This is also the decade where I experienced intense love, more heartache, and tremendous joy!
I met and fell madly in love with my son's father.
I later discovered, the feelings were not mutual, and I ended up kicking him to the curb... when my Prince was 3 months and 2 days old.
Shortly before my Prince's 4th birthday I found myself living in a community where I would feel more alone and afraid. I was now living with autism. "What was autism?", I thought. I was about to find out... and then some.
In 2007, I met a man I did not like very much... but he was better than nothing.
I was still hiding from the pain... I would marry him the following year.
January 8, 2008:
I had been planning this milestone celebration for years!
The plan was to head to Vegas with the girls and hoop and holler it up like it was 1999! Sadly, 2H's (2nd husband) Christmas present to me (an all day spa treatment which happen to include the facial from hell) didn't agree with me, and my face looked like a few folks had gone slap happy on it with knobby ugly sticks!
I ended up staying inside for almost 10 days because VANITY was still my favorite sin.
No celebration, and no Vegas!
Little did I know God had other "celebrations" headed my way.
Against my better judgment, I got married that July.
I got a book deal that October.
Americans would do something unprecedented and vote in our nation's first black president that November.
And my son would have his best Christmas yet... trains, trains, and more trains!
P.S. 2H and I separated in April 2009 and divorced that August. As for marriage... never again!
I am looking forward to 50... but for now, I will simply enjoy being 41.