Oxygen (NaPoWriMo day 22)


Her lonely is palpable
An entity unto itself
A weight pressed down
As naked as newborn skin
Void of love
Full of fear
This lonely lies in wait
Until she is in her most
Vulnerable state
Shallow breaths
Body at rest
Heart slowly beating
Beneath her breasts
This lonely knows
The wanton abandon
Of her soul’s true call
Hears the ominous tone
Bearing down
On her beauty
Cradling her throat
As she struggles for air

Three Hundred and Thirty Four Pounds of NO

Me. Circa 2001. About 100 lbs ago.
Me. Circa 2001. About 100 lbs ago.

So two days ago while at the National Air and Space Museum, I got on a scale that tells you how much you weigh on different places in space… Jupiter, the moon, somewhere else and Earth… I don’t recall how much I weighed anywhere else but here.

334 pounds.


334. In Earth pounds.

I’m not okay with that.
For all my “last fat girl standing” self-deprecation and “I’m gonna show all my rolls every chance I get” exhibitionism, yeah, no. 334 ain’t gonna fly.
Yes, I love me. And I’m mostly comfortable in my cute, fat, smart, awesome skin. But I need to do better. For me.


No, not YOU random judge-y person over there.
Nor all you fat shaming ones on THAT side of the room.

Life is short. And gets shorter every day. I’m 41. Sometimes I don’t understand how I got to be this age when I was just 14 years old and running the streets of Anacostia like some hormonally challenged banshee, but here I am, knocking on the door of 42, with a five year old nonetheless. I’m going to need to keep my energy and sanity in fighting shape for at least 15-20 more years, so no.

No to 334.
Maybe 234 I could live with at 5’10, but 334 is a wake up call.

And I guess I’m posting this because
1. I’m not ashamed.
2. I know I’m not the only one with a number that bothers them, no matter what the number represents.
3. To give myself some support and accountability.

So the next time you see me posting about the ice cream that we all know I love so much, say something. You have permission. And I appreciate you all for being all up in my business in advance.

It’s the internet. That’s what you’re supposed to do!

This Is a Play (NaPoWriMo day 18)


This is a play
On words
A play
On feelings
A play
Because this shit ain’t real

This a play
On connection
A play
On affection
A play
On togetherness
Because this shit ain’t real

This is a play
On spending time
A play
On sexual chemistry
A play
With shared history
But this shit STILL ain’t real

This is a play
A performance
A one woman show
Because I damn sure ain’t got no man
And you think
That I can’t tell you’re
Just a fan?
A good time
A happy camper
No substance
No staying power
A flash in the pan
An extended one night stand
Once again, not my man
Good for a laugh
A roll
A tickle
Some fun
Not the one

This is a play
But I don’t need your ass
Putting on shows
So go

While Sitting in Whole Foods Contemplating Life (NaPoWriMo day 15)


Why do all the North African cab drivers congregate here?
Ooh one of them has a date today, he brought a woman!
What kind of job does this white lady have that she can sit in Whole Foods and do it for hours?
People probably think the same thing about me.
No they don’t.
I honestly can’t tell if that’s a woman or a man…
Eyelashes and all.
I guess that’s a good thing? Maybe?
Probably not.
I had a slice of pepperoni pizza.
I love pork, but Whole Foods takes freshness to another level.
That pepperoni smelled like a pig.
And it did not make me happy.
My fat ass still ate it though.
I’ve got to do a better job of amusing myself.
I felt insignificant all weekend, that’s not good.
This weather is killing my Spring break week plans with the chirren.
I need to wash clothes.
I need to buy clothes.
I’m am so tired of applying for jobs.
I feel defeated.
Yet I smile.
Laila said her doll’s hair was “bushy” this morning…
Where did she learn that word?
It tickled me.
I’m so nosy.
I can’t even fully listen to my music because I’m always in somebody’s conversation.
I want my hair braided.
It’s almost time to get out of here.

A Story About Family (NaPoWriMo day 16)

My sisters and I, circa 1983
My sisters and I, circa 1983

Today will always be a special day for me.

My parents were married on April 16, 1971.

And though the union did not withstand the test of time,
There was a lot of love.
From that bond, a family was created.
Four little girls were born.
Smart Hatiná, reading at 3 years old,
Compassionate Chisoni, taking care of everyone,
Spirited Autumn, beautiful inside and out,
Strongwilled Chaya, a fighter from birth.
And for a little while, we had a good time…
It wasn’t perfect, as no relationship is,
But it was ours.
Our time.
Our love.
Our family.
Momē we love you!
Daddy we miss you!
Thank you.

Throwback Thursday: Morning Creep

I am a believer in online dating. I was using the personals way back in the way back. Meeting folks in the City Paper… With NO PICTURES in the 90s! So I know my way around a blind date. And I’m pretty proficient in weeding out the “crazy” prior to it showing up on my doorstep.

But even with all my dysfunction radar, one or two still manage to skip through the cracks from time to time. Usually via text or phone call, rarely in person.

The scenario that follows happened last summer.


My name is Hatiná.
Today is Friday, August 16, 2013.
It’s 6:47 am.
I have a story.

Yesterday I deleted my POF profile and created a new one. New name, new pics etc. I had to shake off the cray cray that had been creeping into my messages of late… So I get up early this morning to pee and see a message from a dude that I was supposed to have got in contact with a couple weeks ago. He had expressed how he didn’t want to just talk online and had left his home number for me to use at my discretion. I had every intention of calling, but somehow never got around to it. It’s now about 6 am.

The message reads, “hey there what’s your number?”
Since we have already chatted before and it is the ass crack of dawn, I send the number.
I cannot type when I’m half sleep, it annoys me.
He then sends another message, “you available this morning?”
I pause. “To talk? Sure.”
Him: “Boooooo”
Me: “Boo? Really? Just use the number. It’s too early to be typing.”
He doesn’t respond. I wait a few minutes then roll over to go back to my early morning slumber.
Of course as soon as me and my pillow get back on good terms, the phone rings…
Him: “you happy now?”
Me: “you asked for the number dear. Good morning.”
He laughs.
He’s like “well I asked to see you this morning and you just want to talk on the phone…”
I say “First of all you asked was I available this morning. I said yes, TO TALK… Secondly, it’s like 6:30 am. I’m in the bed. And why are you trying to meet me so early?”
Him: “well I have to work later just wanted to see you before then. Do you drive?”
Me: “no.”
Him: ” I don’t have a problem coming to get you. I need to run to Walmart to take care of something really important. But that’s about it. What time were you getting up?”
Me: “I don’t know. Not now. But if you wanted to go to breakfast or something, I could get up around 8.”
Him: “We’ll I don’t know about breakfast. You could just come over to my house and we chill, you know, party. If you like what you see and I like what I see then we just go from there.. we could fix a little lunch a little dinner (!!!) and then I could bring you back around 8 before I got to work at 9.”

Before I get to my response to this box full of shenanigans, lets break this down…

You. Stranger dude.
Want me to get up out of MY bed at the ass crack of morning. Ride with you to Walmart. Where I don’t have to come in. ( yes I skipped that part of the sparkling conversation)
Then go back home with you. In your car. Basically give you permission to kidnap me.
Where you have EVERY intention of fucking. (I’m slow, it took me a minute)
And this sex? It’s supposed to last ALL DAY LONG because in your grand plan you are dropping me back home at EIGHT O’CLOCK AT NIGHT!

And….. We’re back.

Me: “wait, what?”
Him: “what’s wrong?”
Me: “what’s right? You are expecting me to come to your house and take off my clothes? No intentions on doing ANYTHING like that.”
Him: “I mean, we both grown. If we blend, yeah, I mean, we ain’t on e-harmony or something…”
Me: “Nigga it aint a sex site either”
Him: ” well you expecting me to come and get you JUST TO MEET? That’s a long way for meeting somebody, I mean, we grown…”
Me: “And because you offered to come and get me because you WANT some ass, I should be GIVING you some ass because you came to get me? If you only knew how fucking crazy you sound. Boy, get the fuck off my phone please!”
Him: “so you don’t want to see if we blend? I mean, if we don’t, we could just be straight up…”
Me: “Straighten your damn self up, you lunatic…”
And I pressed END.

I’m never going to find a man.
I’m going back to bed.