I Thin I'm Pregnant!!!!

I cant believe Im pregnant!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!I told myself.

Im not even having sex! (Celibate for 18 months, so I thought)

How could this be? Was I slipped something? Did the assailant slip me GHB and had his way with me?

No, I have never put myself in that situation Ive always been with my homegurls for safety. So how could this be???

I was so confused, I couldnt tell my Mom that I didnt know HOW I got pregnant.Well the doctor was telling me I was 6 months pregnant so somewhere, somehow male dna had entered my female anatomy and that was science.

Science Fiction! U cant get pregnant without sex. So I thought.

I started to question the very foundation of reproductive science I was taught in my HS anatomy class.I started questioning myself and my actions. I did gain 15 lbs since my stint as a camp counselor this summer. So that pudgy tummy I acquired was a fetus.How will I explain this to my Mother?
Aha! I wont. Cause she wont know.
I flip through the yellow pages. Agriculture..Adopting, Abortions...I explain to the lady my situation. "We cant help you ma'am, you're beyond the legal parameters"

SHIT!

Ok so I google some home remedies. Black Tea, Licorice, vitamin C.
Im at whole foods making purchases, when I feel something kick me. I turn to see if its a pesky toddler boy at my hip. No one is there, just me and my belly. I touch my stomach and to my amazement I can feel a head and a spine.

I immediately exit the organic food store. I cant kill my baby.

I come to the realization that Im not going to FSU. My dreams of interior design are over. I will be living for his/her dreams.

I am crying now as I drive back to my mothers house. I throw myself in my bed and ball myself to sleep.

I awake to knocking...

"Gal get up outta de bed. Dont forget seh u haffi tek Cutie to airport."

I walk to the mirror, lift my shirt to take a look at what I once thought was chubbiness.

She busts through the door."Wat r u doing"

In my most sleepy voice I announce....

"Mommy, Im not fat! Im pregnant"

She hisses her teeth and walks away. "U still haffi tek cutie to airport"


Damn that was a good dream!

Au Natural

Many of my black friends proclaim their Afro-Centric roots by going naptural. I've contemplated slowly coming off the creamy crack myself. But not because I want to protest the white standards of beauty or because I want healthier hair or even because I want to follow the fashion fad. Thee most important reason for going natural is ME. Myself. I.

There are no hidden political agendas for my decision. Simply put, I just want a change of hairstyle. I know I will come across many black people who will either love or hate my decision. Thats not important. I dont give a damn about their opinion. Whats important is ME.

As I contemplate this, I wonder. How many women are styling themselves for others approval?

I+Many others

I have fallen victim to this. I debated over my choice for many months now. What was holding me back is the approval from my peers. I had farcical catechisms like "What would HE think?"; "Will I still be accepted as 'beautiful'?"; "Will they still like me?"

I have deduced that these questions are ones I should be asking, BUT I was missing one important pronoun in these questions; I, ME, MYSELF.

Lets try again.

What will I think?
Will I still accept MYSELF as beautiful?
Will I still like me?

Mmm...Much better.

However, we cannot live life thinking our decisions, even tiny ones as a hairstyle change, will not affect those around us. I know my kinky afro will deter some eventual employees or potential partners. Its a forlorn fact of life.

So maybe, subconciously, my decision does have an arcane agenda. For you see a tiny piece of me wants to reach out to that one black girl who doesnt think cornrows and afros arent a beautiful part of being black. If I exude the confidence and ignore the ignorance I can speak to her and let her know ALL FORMS OF BLACK IS BEAUTIFUL. Lax Roots, Kinky Fros and even Micros!!!

They Tell Me Its Good

I just had a realization tonight as I was memorizing one of my poems for an upcoming Open Mic Night, this Sunday April 13th, 630pm at the Barbara Ying Center at UCF. You know I gotta self promote. Nevertheless, I digress.

My pessismesticism is that in order for me memorize something I need to like it. Well, I havent really fallen in love with my poetry. I came to this conclusion tonight. If I were an average Joe jut reading my own poetry, Id be like "Ehh its aiight"

But people are telling me all the time that its good.

They tell me, Kass, this is amazing to grasp.
You have a way with words.
Youre point is stern.
Youve got the poetic word looks,
Now you should be writing books.

I brush them off.
I should charge, but at what cost?

They tell me its Good.
Which makes me believe I should.

But when I look at these words.
Marking my point with poetic burns.
I dont see what I should yearn.

My words mean nothing as they are in black and white.
But in my head they come off as strife.
Somehow seeing them in real life.
Doesnt bring the issues to light.

Yet they read, relate, and always seem to state;
"This is too good to rate"

I double check the page.
Or take a look at the gage.
I sense nothing to amaze.

They tell me its good.
I wanna believe it, I should.

I want them to see me as legit.
But when I look at the page, I dont see shit.