2009 and All that Jazz

It's been a while. I've been a bad blogger. I must stop this non-posting nonsense. I see that I have three subscribers. Whodathunk? Welcome. Take a seat and ride with me.

Now to business. It's New Year's Eve. I am never one to make a big deal out of it. Holiday's have never been anything of great importance to me. That it why I did not make a big hoopla of Christmas. I am equally as stoic about birthdays and anything else the dictates that I must be festive. NOPE! Not I said the cat!

However, since I've started ATW, I've been thinking all the way that I need to get right. I mean, I'm fly but I'm fly but I'm not at my fullest potential YET. Time it is awasting. I mean I'm gonna be 25 soon and I have yet to make the most of my 20s.
And the past 2 year have probably been the worst of my life. I mean it was hard man. I've been tested. If you were to apply a grade to how I've handled it, I would likely be a C+. Let's be clear, I'm a total over achiever. So this is unacceptable. Mediocrity has never been an option for me and it is something to which no one should aspire.

2008 was the year of complacency. I'm quite ashamed of that. But that's what's real. So 2009 is my Get Right Movement.

* This list is not in order of importance*

1. Finish losing this weight that I keep losing and gaining losing and gaining losing and gaining

I started this a year ago and I really should be done by now. Out of the 100 ponds that I'd like to lose, I've lost and kept off on 27. I'd lost up to 47 but gained 20 of it back. Then lost 18 of that. Then gained it back. I have since come the realized that I have a serious binge eating problem. I'm be all good for a while, then I get caught up in emotion binge eating. Have found a local Overeater's Anonymous and have a plan to attend at least one meeting. Weight Watchers is just not in my budget right now. Maybe in a few months I'll revamp that plant it the OA does not work. So I need to lose this 100 lbs or be a size 12...whichever comes first.

2. Stop saying the I am going to write and just write.

The need to become a successful writer has never been more prevalent then is had been for the last year. I have to write there are no exceptions. I have just never been able to tack down what I want to write about. I still really don't know. Nut in '09 I am going to venture into the wonderful world of freelance writing.

3./4. Get my crafty ass in gear /Start a business

These two go hand and hand. That's why I combined them. I really need to put alot more into my hand making thingy. lol. I really want to be able to work solely for myself by the time I am 27. That is not too far of a stretch I think, I am a Jane of All Trades and there are so many things that I want to do. This will be the first step in forming a global empire. * ha ha ha * sinister laugh

5. MOVE

I gotta go/ I gotta leave/ SO please don't make/ It hard for me

6. Eliminate neck and shoulder pain without the use of drugs or
surgery.
Since my car accident, I have been in chronic pain. I mean the type of pain that makes me suicidal. I am to young to concede that this is a lifelong issue and I refuse to be dependant on drugs for the rest of my life. I am hoping that I can achieve this through exercise and meditation.

7. Transition to natural hair.

Blog about this soon to come. For now, I'll just say that I have been off of the creamy crack since 10/1/08.

8. Become makeup maven.
Okay, maybe not. But I would like the ability to switch my look up without CLOWN FACE.

9. Make friends

Because I have none. I am a cool person, just terribly anti - social. More so I have low tolerance for stupid ass people. But am attempting to be more open. So if your are reading this and you are in the North Jersey/ NYC and you wanna be friends. Leave a comment. Or you can be my blogosphere friend.

So there they all. All nine of them. HMMMM. Just realized that there was nine. Maybe that is a sign of success. Nine for 09. Or maybe I'm just cheesy. More likely the latter.

I suppose that I should post my progress periodically. I'll add a widget over -----> there, detaling the progress.

I really need a 3 column layout. Gotta work on that.
-Trophy Wife, OUT

Open Letter Friday

Dear Person's Who Keeps Doing Stupid Shit,

I am always and rarely amazed by the stupidity of most people. I tend to wonder if this level of idiocy is innate, learned behavior, or due to a lack of teaching altogether. In any case you are too old to be so damn stupid. To let a drug addict that spent years abusing you back into your bed, no questions asked is rid-damn-diculous. You are 55 years old. One would think that you would be wiser than these knuckle headed young girls that are running around here with knucklehead no good men/women. He left you to lay up with another common dope fiend. When she got sick of him, you let him back all up in your mix. You did not even demand that he take a shower. After all the shit that you talked. After all the times he disrespected you. He put his hands on your kids. He just walked into your living room with his hefty bags. You simply cocked your head to the sid, took a drag of your ciggarette and said " We got Kool-Aid." as he walked himself to your room, took off his boots and demanded a steak with his Kool-Aid.

My grandmother used to tell my that a half-a-man is better than no man at all.

-SAD

Cordailly,

Conscious Observer of your BS

Necessary Evil...Taking a Break

Yeah, I know that I really don't blog that regularly anyway, but I am taking a bit of a hiatus. Tomorrow, I have to get all four of my wisdom teeth removed as well a a root canal. I know OUCH!!!!!!!!!!!! The thought makes me slightly suicidal. But it is a necessary evil. No one wants a wife with a fucked up grill. You most definably don't can't achieve trophy wife status with wisdom teeth pushing all up on all your other teeth. That is not cool.

When I come back I am in full GET RIGHT mode. I mean gym, job search, grad school...the whole nine. Guys Please pray for me. I may just make them euthanize me. I don;t have a great tolerance for pain, especially in the mouth.

Love ya,

Phyafly Jones

Open Letter Friday

Dear Bitch That Rear-Ended us at a Red Light that Night,

I rarely throw around the word hate. But I hate you. My life is forever changed because you felt a need to drink and drive. I am living a lifetime of pain while you ran overseas to get married. I' m not one to throw myself a pity party, but sometimes just moving is so painful that I wish I was missing my entire right side. On these days, I want to grab your bleached blonde hair with mousy brown roots and bang it against the roof of your Buick. Then tell, me to calm down.

Cordially,
Girl With Nerve Damage and Frozen Shoulder

Anyone with an open letter meet me in the comment section.

Negroes, Proposition 8, and Why it's my Fault

It's been a month since Proposition 8 passed in California. It has taken me since that time to really think about this and [attempt to] make some type of cogent argument that explains us how us color'd folks voted. It is always befuddling to me that anyone would be in favor anything that denies an entire sect of people their rights. It is even more disturbing to me that 70% of Cali's African American population voted for this BS. I am sure that this is not a true representation of the entire black community. But it looks damn bad. It does for us what the reemergence of Flava Flav has done for us. It puts a light on use where the rest of the world can once again say? "Do the black really feel/act/think/talk like that?" This brings a sense of otherness in a in a situations that is inhabited by the others.

More importantly than anything, as an African American lesbian, I do take a portion of the responsibility. Although, I am not in California, I feel that I have not done my part to quell the the homophobia amongst blacks. Hell, I have done nothing to quell the homophobia in my own home. Since coming out/ being outed about three years ago, I have never talked to anyone close to me about my gayness. In attempts to be less offensive, I've jumped to the far end of the spectrum and been silent. I now know how fucked up that is for several reasons. Why do I have to not be myself because the people that [claim to] love me may not understand? What type of sense does that make. This enters the TMI section of the broadcast...lol...I had a bowel blockage not to long ago and my mom put an enema in my ass. I mean she spread my butt cheeks and stuck that intrusive thing into my ass. It was hella awkward and I begged her not to. Her response was the response that all mothers give when they do some nasty shit like that. " I changed your diapers. I've seen everything you've got." Yet I cannot tell my mother that I am dating someone. I cannot tell my mother when my heart is broken. Sharing the joys of being in love is just out of the question. Censoring my gay quotient has become common place when I have interactions with her. Even when she is gay bashing, I am on mute. Each time I let one of these instance go with out a peep, I am contributing to the problem. Each time I laugh off a question from other family member about having kids or getting married, I am contributing to the problem. How can I expect black people to understand that the LGBT community are no different if I cannot say " I'm gay and I'm the same person that you love."

Understanding people's differences and and similarities does not happen through osmosis. It takes work. It takes relating on matters of human condition. It matters not that I will fall in love with a woman. It only matters that no matter who you [ if you are lucky] you will fall in love. You will be loved. You will breaks hearts and get your heart broken. You will have the butterflies when it is new. You will get annoyed when it is not so new. These are just what happens when love/ life happens. But we are so caught up in deciphering the otherness in people. In many of our cases we separate and highlight the otherness in ourselves in hopes of being non- threatening. We get so damn caught up in "not forcing our lifestyle upon others" that we for get that this is our life. How can we retreat because someone is in disagreement with our life. Rejecting my heart in essence is rejecting me.

Those of us that keep out mouths shut in hopes being non-threatening are just doing Black, the gay community, and ourselves a disservice.

Talking to Myself

The most destructive thing in the world is negative self- speak. I am the queen of this. If I even stub my toe on the bed I'm yelling to myself " YOU STUPID FUCK, HOW'D YOU DO THAT !!!!!!!" Now I am not at all stupid. And in fact, I am quite a logical and intelligent person. My sensible side knows that shit like that happens, but my illogical and super neurotic side feels like I should have known better.

Now when it comes to my weight struggle, that negative self-speak is at its strongest. I even named it. Pepsi. ( I knew an uber bitch in HS named Cola.) True story, she is no Sasha Fierce. Pepsi is a mean bitch. Her main goal is to take me down. She calls me "FUCKING FAT WHORE" every chance that she gets. Any semblance of purpose, worth, and will power, is not safe around Pepsi. As I just sat and ate that entire carton on Butter Pecan ice cream she was yelling her head off at me. Yup, when I get to shoveling shit down my throat, here she is to make me feel more shitty about the ass load of calories that I just consumed. But I don't stop. Apparently, I am a glutton for that type of verbal abuse.

I have always done this. As an adult, it had just gotten worse. I have gained an vocabulary that is rich in insults and damning language. College only equipped me with great ways to add a poetic spin to the hurtful shit that I say to myself. I mean insults of a Shakespearean proportion. At times I even say it aloud. Most people never get that I am talking reckless to myself. They just think that I am once again using my uppity pretentious language. I guess that if for the best. If anyone really knew what I feel about myself at times, they would most definitely think that I had gone ape shit.

I mean, no one would allow another perosn to say these things about them. But when its you, it's a whole different animal. I'm abusing myself. Now that I recognize it. It's time to change it.

Trophy Wife of the Week: Jada Pinkett Smith

is this week's baddest chick. The Trophy Wife has been a Jada Pinkett Smith whore since she was just Jada Pinkett, a round da way girl turned college student on A Different World. I had a vested interest in A Different World back in the day. As a kid, I just knew that I would go to Hillman College. How disappointed I was when I was told that it was not a real college. It was worse than when my cousin Ericka broke the news about Santa. Lena, Jada's character on A Different World, and I would have matching neon overalls an we would become BFFs, or in early 90s nomenclature, homegirls. Oh yes, we were real cool. We were cool until I found out that Lena had her pick of Dorian and Tupac. ( Tupac is out of the 2 men that this lesbian would go straight for,lol. The other is Dwyane Wade)


I eventually forgot about that. Yes, I also forgot about the terrible movies on the way, including Woo. I don't think that there was anything worst than Woo. But I forgave. Next think I knew she was all married off to none other than the Fresh Prince himself Will Smith. Ten years later, they are still going strong. Not only is this a good look for Hollywood. It is a very good look for BLACK families. In a society where representations of Black folk in love is far and few between, Will & Jada and the epitome of what happens when families "cleave" to each other.


We all know Jada the wife, the actress, and the mother. Jada also has a kick ass metal band, Wicked Wisdom.


She is getting her business woman on as co-investor in Carol's Daughter. And still has time to keep her husband happy. ( Wink*nudge*and all that cheesy shit) Come on, I'm not the only on that gets giggly when Mrs. Smith talks about all the car, kitchen, park bench sex that she and the Mr. have. To be honest, to know that Jada props her little 5 foot nothing self up on the stove to get in, makes my day. That alone would have gotten her on the the list. Maybe, not. It did not hurt, though.

Beautiful People

I have always been intrigued by beautiful people. More so, beautiful people that seem to be oblivious of their own beauty. You know, those people that walk through life and think that they are just regulars, but they clearly have an edge over the rest of us common folk. I am pretty girl, but I have to incessantly tell myself that I am beautiful. I've had to stand in my mirror and affirm 100 times and three times a day that I am beautiful despite...and/or because of..... These people,however, seem to take it for granted( if they even know at all). It's like they are engaging in some type of quiet rebellion. Are they making a statement? Their actions seem not to be actions at all. They ease through life with such a fluidity that it is a joy and sometimes a pain to watch. Every move is an abstraction waiting to be explained in layman's terms. There is nothing tangible about the allure of that person. Even the most loquacious prose fails to capture the essence of that beauty.

It suffices to say that I find this to be an inexplicable phenomenon. Every time that I see a woman that is effortlessly gorgeous I think of Cover Girl. I sing in my head Easy. Breezy. Beautiful. Cover Girl. I suppose, that's I what the ad people were thinking when they created that slogan. It truly invokes the image of uncomplicated perfection. The connotation of those words could not possibly work any better.




It's almost with shame that I admit that I often feel a need to announce, re- announce, and reaffirm my beauty at all costs. Even while engaging in casual conversation, I've been known to respond to questions of audacity with a curt " because I'm cute" daring someone to counter that claim. And yup, I am one of those annoying people that takes every opportunity to stare at my own reflection. My inability to pass store windows, drink from glasses, or walk pass a shiny car without checking myself out has led people to view me as somewhat vain. I even seek out at my own shadow to gauge whether my hair/weave/wig (depending on the day) and sometimes my body are symmetrical. It's not vanity, though, it's the compulsory need to self edit.

One day, I'd love to know what it feels like to just go about my day and not worry about whether everything is 100 or not. To be able to just go and know that "I'm good" is an idea that is so far fetched it seems impossible.

Please comment if you have ever felt like I do or even if you haven't. Are you a beautiful person? Maybe you have observed how these people operate. lol

It's Sunday...Post Secrets

This may make me a loser, but the only reason that I venture to wake up early on a Sunday morning is to see the PostSecrets. Well, there is also Meet the Press. But mostly PostSecrets. If you don't know about the PostSecrets you need to get familiar.

This one in particular touched me in a way that almost brought me to tears. "We accept the love we think we deserve." Talk about a truism. From childhood, we are taught by the manner in which we are nurtured how live is displayed. It absorbs into our subconscious. Andtada . We seek out that which we thing love is. If at a young age you are taught, as my mom would say, " don't take any wooden nickles"; then when seeking out relationships then you likely refused to take any shorts. This included familial relationships, friendships, professional relationships, and of course romantic relationships. Your youth set the stage in determining what you think you deserve.

Parents that give their children everything (material) have raised person that sees love in terms of possessions. Parents that are withholding in all arenas seek out relationships that are withholding in all arenas. That is what they were taught about love. Despite the wealth of self-help gurus that are out and about writing books, there is no hard and fast rulebook that dictates how we should be loved or how we should express love. With anything you learn from experiences.

I grew up in a household where there was nothing but chaos. All day, everyday there was nothing but yelling and pure verbal and mental abuse. The only representation that I saw of a "loving" relationship was of a woman that was belittled and submissive and of a man that was mean spirited and arrogant. Even when dealing with me as a young child, there was only criticism and disappointment. Then there was me having to keep it together. My role as a child was the crutch I supposed. I was the one that kept things together, the shoulder to cry on and the excuse for the fights.

I knew very well of the childhood's of my mother and my stepfather. By no stretch of the imagination were they pleasant. They bred two very damaged people that really should have taken time to love themselves before they ventured to love anyone else. Definitely before the had kids.

As an adult, I sought out these types of situations. I should say I seek out these types of relationships. I am usually attracted to the damaged women. I'm all captain save a ho. No really. One always knows when they meet someone with issues. There are always at least small signs. In my case, the signs are always blaring. But I seek these women out. I am always attracted to the damages. I need a woman that needs a shoulder, need a support system, needs to be some one's everything.

This was never more apparent than in my last relationship. She was truly damaged. She had a life that I probably would not have lived through. That made me more "in love" with her. That was the way I was being loved. I was being given the love that she wished that she had been given. I was also given the grief that she wish that she could have inflicted in retaliation for what she faced as a kid. So this "love" that I thought I was getting was just a substitution was just residual.It wasn't for me. I knew this and I accepted it ...because it was what I though that I deserved.

If anyone has a similar situation, please comment! If anyone has a differant situation, please comment.

Trophy Wife of the Week:

Who is the baddest chick in the world right now?
Of course it the the brand spanking new First Lady-Elect...Michelle Obama. Who's bad? Yes, every time I think of my President's better half, I break into the chorus of Michael Jackson's Bad. It only seems appropriate. And don't let me have glove handy...I am a Michelle loving, moonwalkin', America Lovin' fool. Oh yeah.

Aside from having a ridiculous body and sheath dresses for days, Mrs. Obama is amazingly accomplished in her own right.

From About.com

She has a B.A. in Sociology and a minor in African Studies form Princeton University and a Harvard Law Degree. She founded Public Allies Chicago which provided young adults with leadership training for public service careers. As executive director, she headed up a non-profit named by President Bill Clinton as a model AmeriCorps program. Later,
she joined the University of Chicago as associate dean of student services and established the University's first community service program. She was named executive director of community and external affairs and served in that role until her 2005 appointment to her position at the University of Chicago Medical Center.

She is also an amazing mother to the adorableness that is called Sasha and Malia. it has been said by many that knew the Obama clan, that it has always been assumed that Michelle was the portion of the couple that had been more likely to run for public office. If you have read any of my earlier post, than you know that I am somewhat of an oracle. I am stating it right now. Michelle Obama will run for president in 2020. Mark my words.




What I love most about Mich, I think that she has reached friend in my head status. So, yes I am calling her Mich. Although, she is so accomplished; she is still playing the wife. This is the role that she needs to play right now. It is achieved flawlessly. We are so inundated with images of the independent black woman and the single mother, that we don't now that Black love does exist. This is not a political photo opt. These two are in love. They are a family.







So Mrs. Obama is beautiful, accomplished, intelligent, damn fierce, and a genuine good soul. On top of that, I am sure that there will be lots of head board thumping in the White house. Michelle is the type of wife that is definitely on her J. Oh yeahhhhhhhh!!

She is a true Trophy Wife and a model for any Aspirant Trophy Wife. My most newly acquired idol is proof positive that you do not have to dumb yourself down or make concessions of you determination to have it all.

NanoWriMo Excerpt

As I promised in an earlier post, here if an excerpt from my nano novel.

Disclaimer: This is an unedited and unrevised portion of my NanoWrimo novel. I never said that it was going to be good. lol

My hands smell of memories. Like when I was 5, I went to a babysitter that we called Aunt Caffy. When mom would come pick me up from Aunt Caffy’s house after work, there was always a punch bowl full of candy by the front door. All the kids could take three Starbursts when our parents came to take us home. I was always that last of the kids to be picked up, so Aunt Caffy would let me take six pieces. All the other kids were gone, so it was our little secret. I guess it was her way of making up for the fact that my Mom was usually late. My presence often ran over into her family’s dinner time. The smell of baked chicken or pot roast, oh and the homemade dinner rolls always seemed to seep into the front room where the daycare portion of her home was. I looked forward to my mom picking my up so I could get my candy. I knew that was the only fragrant sustenance that I was going to get that night. I’d throw both of my little hands into that punch bowl and let the little candies was over my hands and fall through my fingers. For some reason, my second favorite Starbursts, the yellow was always relegated to the bottom on the bowl. It was just pointless looking for my very favorite, the red. After eating my six yellow candies, or sometimes a mix of yellow and orange, my hands would always have the sweet smell of that candy bowl.

Like when I would grab her hair in passion. I sometimes, secretly would plan our lovemaking on days that I knew that she had washed her hair. There is a major difference between dating regular ole' run of the mill black girl and a black girl with white ancestry. I love a woman with some good hair. It doesn’t nap up if she washes it often or after a long fit of lovemaking.

When her body is on top of me, I make is my business tilt my head up just so my nose places effortlessly into her short curly do. My hands cup gracefully around the back of her head as I push her slim supple lips into my neck. The scent mixed of ripe cherry and homemade lemonade enraptures my most acute sense. This is truly the sweet smell of contentment. These were the nights when the climax was always more enjoyable. The nights that I could inhale her into my spirit. I‘d always come with sensual ease. Her skin, the color of butter cream and the feel a welcome breeze, melds to mine and I release. Often times, orgasms were work. I’ll tell you, it was much more work than I felt like doing. I’d become a great actress on that accord. I am a simple girl. Mostly, all I want is that flutter between my thighs that is in sync with our heartbeats. Those nights are nostalgia.

The most difficult thing about this process is quieting the editing voices in your head. It's has been a truly arduous task in itself to keep myself from going back over every single word to. It is necessary not to do this if you have any hope of completing 50,000 words by within the 30 days. I mean, leaving your prose vulnerable like this is not easy. You have to learn ( or at least cope) with letting the words exist as they are and trust that although they are not perfect, they play a major role in your ultimate goal.

Nano in itself is a great practice in relinquishing control. EEEEKKK Not my strong suit.

It's Christmas...or Damn Close

It feels like Christmas in the Trophy Wife household. It is so exciting that there are only a few hows before I nan call Barack Obama my president. Even more importantly, I will be able to call Michelle my first lady. She will be the fiercest thing in the White house since Jackie- O. Do not get me started on how adorable it will be to see Malia and Sasha playing on the White house lawn with some random, newly acquired dogs. This is truly is a family affair. We are not only electing a BLACK president. This is a BLACK family. I'm sure that this will not undo all the damage that has been done to the representation of the BLACK family, but it is a hell of a step in the right direction.




On the night that he clenched the Democratic Party nomination, I felt an undeniable sense of pride in my spirit. I was on the cusp of tearing for 3 days straight. Today, I know we are about to witness something great. It's almost like I feel some type of filial relationship to my man Barack.

4 years ago when Barack won his senate seat, I was in college. Of course for Writing for Radio and Television class, we just had to cover what struck us most about that election. Always the oracle, I wrote about the young Senator from Illinois, Barack Obama. After that assignment, I went on to write several OP-Ed pieces on how I just KNEW that this man was going going to be our president on 2016. Okay, maybe I'm not a great oracle, but dammit I knew. I felt it in my soul. 2008, WHODATHUNK it!!!!


It is an amazing and beautiful thing. Right now I'm just waiting for everyone to wake up so that we can all run dowstairs our open out gifts.

Back on the Weight Loss Grind.

I fell off of the diet grind for a month. Okay, I more than fell off. I embarked on a month of emotional binge eating. I know what set it off and now I have put that portion of my life behind.

Now, is the time to deal with the consequences of the binge eating. I gained back all of the weigh that I had lost that month before. Today, that puts me back at 256.0

NOVEMBER Goal- 246.0

I do not think that 10 pounds in a month is too much to ask. I have done it before. It can be done again.

Sharing is Caring

I bring this to you by way of http://punditkitchen.com/.

Please Bear With Me

I am a brand new blogger and I am still trying to wrap my head around how this BLOGGER do-hicky works. It's not as easy as it looks. I'm guessing that I should learn some HTML and other valuable information. The look of this thing may change a few time until I find exactly what I want.

The Trophy Wife is hard to please.

NanoWriMo TIME!!!!!!!!

The Trophy Wife is so excited. Tomorrow is November 1st. You know what that means...NaNoWriMo time. That is National Novel Writing Month for those of you not in the know. It's where us aspiring novelistas attempt to write a 50,000 word novel or the first 50,000 words of a novel in -wait for it- 30 DAYS!!!!! EEK. I know. I know. That breaks down to at least 1,666.6666666666666666666666 words a day. Lets just round that up 2nd grade style: 1,670. ( to the nearest tens place, lol) That is alot of damn words in one day. But oh yes it can be done.

The great thing about Nano is that the focus is primarily on output. It forces those of us that are anal about perfect phraseology to quiet the self-editing voices in out heads and just write. The only requirement to "win" Nano is that you write 50,000 words. Whether you cheat yourself and write the same word 50,000 times is all on you. No one is going to read it. On the NanoWrimo site, there is merely a word count. Nano is truly a reason to be self-satisfying. Write what you have always wanted but have talked yourself out of.

So, November 1st is less than 4 hours away and I have no idea what I am writing about. I guess that I am going to have to wing it. I am better working on the fly anyway. That is how I graduated from college with honors. Magna Cum Laude to be precise. All procrastination :)

As this post comes to an end, it is 8:49 pm. Almost 3 hours till nano. Let's go get em.

If anyone want to add me as a friend, my name is "reignbeaulefem"

Still to come from the TROPHY WIFE:

Excerpt from the NaNo Novel.

I'm Crushing

Oh yeah, we here at The Aspirant Trophy Wife have an UBER crush on Rachel Maddow. By we, I mean me. When I saw her, my gaydar SCREAMED "lesbian." I am very happy to find out that I was right. So now, I am no longer ashamed of the girl boner that she gives me. BOING! Let's face MSNBC has a winner! Chris Matthews and Kieth Olberman are okay...but Rachel. Man listen. I think that I am in love. Welp, very deep and penetrating lust.


After last night's interview with President Barack Obama (yes I said President. I am not superstitious. Take that universe.) Everytime she chuckled at one of his amazing answers, I wanted to jump through the screen and nuzzle her widdle cheeks.



Ms. Maddow...mmmm. She is snarky, slick mouthed, unapolegetic, and God damn sexy. She is playing with the big boys and besting them everytime. So I am officially Rachel stalking.

Definately Trophy Wife approved.

Trophy Wife Skills

Part of becoming a Trophy Wife, is making sure that you mind is right as well as your outward apperance. So as part of this journey to self-actualiztion, I have decided to get my Master's degree. I have yet to figure out in what. The first step in getting this degree is to take the damn GRE. (Graduate Record Examination) Truthfully, I should have taken it before I completed my undergrad study. I just had so much on my plate then. And I was still unsure of what I wanted to do with the rest of my life.

Nonetheless, I have to take this damn GRE. Vocabulary is a major part of the test... and an articulate person is always desireable. So I present Trophy Wife Vocab. This way, I can boost my GRE score and you can learn a word that you may not have know. Win..Win. Today's word is courtesy of The Huffington Post.

MAUDLIN

Pronunciation: \ˈmȯd-lən\
Function: adjective

1 : drunk enough to be emotionally silly
2 : weakly and effusively sentimental

Make- Up...dun dun duuuuuun

So, I suck at being a girl. At least where make-up is involved. When most girls learn to do their make-up from their friends when they are in high school or maybe even middle school. (1) I did not have many friends (2) the few that I did were guys. So I missed that boat completely.

Now, I am 24 years old and I often get mistaken for a 16 year old. I am sure that I will be quite appreciative of this when I am 30. As for now, I think that this is a hindrance to my professional and social life. So have decided that I am going to dedicate a bit of time and money to learning to get my make-up on.

I have visited a few beauty blogs (that are linked on my blogroll). Most of them suggest Mac, Nars, and Bobbi Brown. I am not at the point where I want to shell out the bucks that these products would cost. So I hit the CVS and the discount make-up store at the Jersey Gardens mall and picked up some ELF. products. Then I have my big color palette that I got from Mandee for $10.00.




So here is my first attempt.







If you have any tips, I am more than appreciative

What the Hell Do I Want?

That is a question that I have not asked myself in a long time. I thought that I had established a healthy practice of continually reaching for a the stars. That was a long time ago-the last time that I was single. For the past four years I have been thinking in terms of we. What do we want? I held back alot and missed out on lot of opportunities partially because I didn’t want to leave her behind or I didn’t want to ” emasculate” her.

Today is a new day and I’m enjoying the process of getting to know me again. I even took myself out to dinner earlier this week. A while ago, if I were forced to goto dinner alone, I would have been crying into my glass of Pinot Grigio. This time, I was able to go to a restaurant that I have never been to and eat food that I have never tried. Before, a night out was picking which Taco Bell we would go to and a trip to play in the toy isle in Tar-jay. Don’t get is twisted, I love my Taco Bell Crunch wraps and cheesy potatoes. Lord’ knows how much I love Target, but that is night not a date night.

The night that I spent alone @ that Thai restaurant in the West Village was one of the best times that I have had in a long time ( alone or with anyone.) I sat at that table that was decorated with a single votive candle that set an ambiance that I am sure was meant for lovers and I felt like I was the only company that I needed. I didn’t have worry about going over budget, or someone picking in my plate with their fingers. No one was reminding me that I was using the chopsticks incorrectly. I The best part of all was that I didn’t have to manufacture inane conversation. For the first time ever, I savored a meal. I actually sat down to a meal to taste the food and enjoy the texture. I reveled in the spices that I had never encountered and got a cheeky smile when they interacted with herbs and spices that were familiar to me.

Get this, when I was full. I pushed the plat away. That was it. This may seem small, but I have serious food addiction . It is a rarity for me to just say no to more food. It is like being disrespectful to the hungry and the Thai food Gods. But I did it.

So now that I have this new found independence, it its time to make sure that my solitude works in my favor. What is it that I want? My goal is to align my intent with my wants so that opportunities with come to me and it will be almost effortless.

But really, do I know what I want? I have a vague idea that is mostly set in abstractions. For the most part I need to improve me all over. I need to get my body right, my mind right, money right. Now to delve deeper into those categories.

This is going to take a bot more thought

Hi, Howdy, Salutations and all the...

and WELCOME to my blog. Okay, this is more than a blog for me. This this chronicle of my journey to become the ultimate TROPHY WIFE. Yes, you read correctly. I want- no- aspire to be a trophy wife. I’m sure that it sounds crazy and you may be ready to write me off right now…WAIT. I do not want to be a just a pretty girl on someones arm. I want to be the best me that I can be. I want to become my own prize.

I just got out of a 4 year relationship. While being a part of a couple, I lost grasp of who I am. I was so used to being a part of whole that I was simply C’s girlfriend. Every choice that I made and every step that I took was to appease her. It was seemingly beyond my realm of capability to think about my own well being. We met when I was 19. So basically I’ve been in a relationship for my entire adult life. Instead of becoming the women that I wanted, I became the girlfriend that she wanted.

Now it’s a new day and I’m seeking trophy wife status for myself. Before I even begin to be someone else’s prize, I must be my own. The goal is not to be someone else’s arm candy…you can leave that to the Eva Longoria’ s of the world. The goal is to become my own ideal. Self-work is the most important thing that anyone can do. When I find balance within me, then I won’t have to look for my trophy wife. She will gravitate to me. And she will have put as much into developing her self, mentally/ spiritually/physically…and every other -ally, as I have.

So this is where I will post my fears, rants, raves, advice, request for advice, randomness..and anything else. Hopefully this will encourage some of you to find you inner trophy wife. And I know that there will be some that will help me uncover mine. You may learn something. As I learn, I will share. Stay tuned.This is going to be a hell of a ride, but I’m ready.