Eventful weekend.

After an extremely memorable (in a bad way) day at work on Thursday, complete with demotivation meetings and somehow, while not an actual salesperson, stumbling into the crosshairs of the SVP of Sales for NY for a thorough flogging, I was very happy to have Friday to myself.   There was much to prepare for.  The Delta Mu Zeta chapter of Zeta Phi Beta Sorority, Inc. had taken the time and the consideration to honor E for all the hard work that he does in the community.   There is no question.    When you think of Kappas in the tri-state area that do that level of work… well… it’s him.   Most don’t even show up.   So as far as being deserving – he most certainly is that.

So I visited Rent The Runway to track down the dress I’d wear for the event.  The days of purchasing an entire gown for me to wear once and fear being seen in it again in pictures later in the year are over.   I secured the dress and was to pick it up early Friday morning. Friday started off quietly enough – rallying together with the Mr. to get the dimpled one ready for her school day activities.  Them leaving together so that he could drop her at school then head to the gym.  I made the suggestion that since Alternate Side was suspended, the drive to the gym (which is near the train station) so that upon my return to BK, I could just hop in the car and head to my following appointment.   15 minutes after they left, I walked out the door, heading towards the train without a care in the world.  I wasn’t heading there for the regular reason (life sucking, inspiration killing, heart-defeating work).  I was on my own today and was owned by no one.   Heading to RTR so that I could get the dress and try it on in case I needed to venture further and pick up some more sturdy shapewear to make it work.   Ride there was nothing…. Picked up the dress in a matter of moments.  Ride back was quiet and uneventful too.

Until I went to exit the train.

As usual, the train pulled in a Prospect Park and I positioned myself directly in front of the doors looking to step onto the platform once they opened.  The train slowed and I saw a woman positioning herself on the other side looking to step on once the doors made it possible.  3-2-1… doors open… I take an initial step onto the platform.   But something isn’t right.   My foot didn’t plant right…  My toes got caught on something…. I wasn’t steady…. I hurtled forward… One big step…. but still not surefooted and the momentum was pulling me down.   There was nothing to grasp onto.   I extended my hand to brace my fall….  I fell and slid across the platform.  In a second I attempted recovery but stayed seated on the floor trying to figure out what the fuck happened.   The woman yelled “are you alright”…”Yes I’m fine… thank you!”  Didn’t want her to delay getting on the train.  Nor did I need any additional audience to my piecing my shame together.   I picked up the hand that had braced me… and felt awful burning coming from my elbow.    It was bleeding.   Not gushing… but enough for it to relay to my brain “BITCH, we’re open over here…”  Then I looked at my hand.   The hand that braced me…..  had my cellphone in it.    there was no amount of casing/padding/prep that would have saved my little iPheezy.


That is money I DO NOT HAVE to spare.  But I can’t operate like this I think to myself as I brush myself off keeping in mind the next appointment is soon.   I get to the car parked a block away, luckily there’s a bottle of water in the car.   I take a preliminary attempt at cleaning the wound. The entire walk my OCD self is reminding me that the burning is more likely the trillions of germs on the platform than it is anything else.  The water stings a bit but cleaning feels as though it’s taking place.   I wash my hands as well, dry off and get behind the wheel.  When I got home I properly washed the wound with antibacterial soap then burned the SHIT out of myself with an alcohol pad.   Most pain I’ve experienced in a long time.   Slathered some Neosporin on it then went to try the dress on.   PERFECTION – without shapewear.   Awesome.  Took a quick special place shower to make sure everything was good and clean down there considering the nature of my next appointment.  Dried off – dressed up – hopped back in the car and trekked to Bed Stuy.

Blooming Brows was a few blocks away from where I used to live on Decatur.  The neighborhood has certainly changed all the way from what it was 6 years ago.  I found parking on the street, figured I’d only need an hour and started walking.    Slave Theater is torn down.   I don’t remember that Popeye’s on the corner.  I HATE walking under scaffolding.  Folks are just as loud though…  random thoughts as I make my way through.   I get to Blooming Brows – I had caught their Groupon:  Three Brazillian Waxes for 39.00 (normally 99.00) and Groupon itself had a 50% off coupon on all purchases so I got three of them bad boys for 19.00!! WOOHOO.    I announce myself I and they put me into one of the waxing booths.   I disrobe from the waist down and wait.  This was a result of a couple of things – but mostly a conversation I’d had after seeing the episode of Black-Ish where Dre tells Bow that she has a few white hairs down there.   In that moment I realized that I have absolutely NO idea because no one has looked there in quite some time.   So rather than torture myself with whether or not…. I’ll remove all doubt.    As of this post… there are NONE.  Minu (or Meenu) did the damned thing.  She didn’t hesitate or waste time.  I told her it was my first time because sincerely – it’d been 4 years since my last.  I think I can claim revirginization.   She was swift and informative.  “50 Percent done…”  “Let me know if you need a break.”  “Deep Breath here….”  In 15 minutes I was done and everything was as smooth as a baby’s… well… you know.   She proceeded to rubbing oil on ALL parts down there – to release any leftover wax.  And her hands went everywhere.  I wonder if she knows she’s providing additional services to people who go without on a regular.   It probably doesn’t cross her mind.   I gave her what she thought was a windfall of a tip.  She said to come back in 4 weeks – it won’t hurt as much.   I will.   I just don’t want to think about white hairs anymore.   I walked out and felt great.    Then the stinging from my elbow.  *ugh*

Jumped in the car and went to the iDropped store closeby on Flatbush.   They took a look at my phone and were basically like “nah son”.  It would have cost me $150 anyways just for the screen.  But because of the GRATING that took place when I skid across the platform at the bottom they were like the screen isn’t even going to adhere.  *shrugs*    Started my calls with Verizon.  Kicked my insurance into effect.  Spent 200 bucks that I really wasn’t ready to spend to get the new phone in next day.   Thank God I had the insurance.

The rest of Friday was without incident.  Saturday – the cherub and her many musings.  Piano.  Dance.  Swim.  Which I attended this time.  That child is a mermaid.  Completely unafraid of the water and actually… feeling more comfortable IN it than out of it.  Then the hubs dropped me off for a much-needed mani-pedi right after.   Trekked home and began preps for the night ahead.   A girdle that I’d bought last month that didn’t fit… FIT on Saturday and sucked up all the stuffs I was trying to conceal.   Slid the dress on… slid the heels on… beat my face and styled my hair and we were out the door.

Watched my loved one receive the accolades he deserved.   Ate, drank and danced the night away.  Memories became spotty from the trek home.   Just flashes of things here and there till the morning when I asked the Mr if I’d showered when I got home.  He said I did.   I don’t recall it… and moreso because my eyes did NOT feel like I washed away the beatfacededness.     But I guess I did.   I’m a functional drunk.  I need to look into that.

Sunday was me observing my Footballers – my Daughter killing it at Futbol and my husband holding down in Football.

Now just to get my mind right for the 3 day week ahead… culminating with the results of my biopsy on Friday.

I’m speaking and claiming that it is NOT cancer.   Lord?  Hear my prayer.



Please, Jesus.



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