the Super Sistah Blog

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Pretty Lonely October 29, 2010

Filed under: Beauty/Health,Love-Relationships,Women's Issues — thesupersistah @ 9:24 pm
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The Super has noticed an interesting phenomenon.  I noticed the trend as I strolled through the malls, visited the theater and while I walked through the city minding my own beeswax.  For the record, I believe that even if you have a face like reggae artist Shabba Ranks or Ugly Betty when she’s feeling stank, that everyone has their own special kind of beauty.  That said, there are girls walking the streets with bellies the size of army Special Forces tanks and with faces requiring bulletproof vests.  Some of these unfortunate ones stroll the sidewalks with mugs only slightly better looking the Color Purple’s Ms. Ceily.  But Don’t Cry for them Argentina, um,  I mean New York City, because they have what many of my slim and slammin’ friends do not have – boyfriends.  These ladies despite not being pretty in the face or slim in the waist, are sauntering down the avenue hand-in-hand with boyfriends and boo’s.  My Tyra Banks look-a-likes and Naomi Campbell wannabes are at home on Saturday nights eating Ben and Jerry’s.  What’s up with that? Can someone explain? Why are the pretty girls lonely while the less-than-lovely of the world have every Friday and Saturday nights jammed with dates? Are the lovely among us more picky and particular? Are they harder to please? Is there a reason all the pretty girls are lonely? Besides discreetly advertising in popular men’s magazines like professional pretties called prostitutes, what does a pretty girl have to do to get a date?  What do you think?

He's the beauty, she's the .....

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Envy – The New Green October 22, 2010

Envy is a sin. Ask anybody. No need to consult your Bible.  It’s one of the seven deadly sins.  Trust me. As I write this the Super is green. Not the fashionable forest color but the green of guacamole and late night drinking.  I’m the color of wasabi sauce minus the sushi.  I’m the hue of Kermit when he’s feeling killer and cryptic. Not good green. I wish I could say I envied my friend with the wicked ride and banging body or the co-worker with the corner office.  That kind of envy is popular and expected. If I said I was jealous of my friend’s new fiancé or her bitchin’ apartment facing the park, that too would be understandable. Those wants are accessible and within reach.  They’re nothing that a degree, a Match.com profile and a gym membership can’t obtain. Instead I’m jealous of make-believe; fiction and Hollywood fantasy made just for your movie screen. For the first time the Super wished for a moment that she had the life of a barely post-pubescent Jewish boy. His name? Mark Zuckerberg.  I watched the movie the Social Network and was astounded that the creator of Facebook is the youngest billionaire on earth. Now if you’re going to be green then it’s best to have thoughts of jealousy the color of money.
It would be more realistic if I wanted to be Wonder Woman, the Bionic Woman or the X-Men’s Storm. I have a better chance of lifting a ten-ton car with my bare hands than accomplishing what the Facebook founder did in just a century. I wonder what fuels him? Accomplishing all that he has must mean he has 24 carat ambition. Why him but not me?. I need some of the inspiration he’s drinking. All I know is that to get anything done you must have a fire burning inside. Doubts, fear and disbelief can’t be a part of your psyche. We can have everything we want. Having vision and drive is the beginning.  You have to see the finish line first and then make the first tentative steps.  Forcing yourself out of immobility is the hardest part. In order to fly you have to be willing first to take a step and then a leap. Are you stuck in place or are you leaping?

 

Growing Old Money October 18, 2010

Filed under: Age/Aging,Love-Relationships — thesupersistah @ 8:59 pm
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Mom’s getting old–not Joan Rivers teetering on the edge of the crypt old, but more subtle and insidious. The changes are harder to spot when Botox isn’t involved but the evidence is glaring. She sleeps more and wakes later. Now she strolls instead of barrels ahead and stairs are harder to climb. She hugs me longer and with more intensity. Is she counting the touches, the kisses and storing up the affection she receives to take with her? Where is she going? It’s a hard process to watch. It’s not like I didn’t know that people age. I shouldn’t have expected mom to stay the same age she was when she wore the sequins bustier and blue leather skirt with the door-knocker earrings. I shouldn’t have expected her to be as lively as when jerry curls, cameo’s and Eddie Murphy tight pants were still in vogue, but the last time I saw her it really hit me that she wasn’t going to be around forever. I wasn’t the little girl she used to bounce on her knee and she wasn’t the fiery-tempered, saucy-tongued, take-no-nonsense mother she once was. She was slowing down. Like clocks, people slowly wind down until they wind to a stop. It’s the inevitable cycle of life for which no one is immune. Somehow the Super Sistah thought mom would be spared the kryptonite which was old age. Who was I fooling? So beyond the pain that comes with a good dose of reality, the Super started making plans and vows. Every instance in life can be used for motivation. Mom’s approaching retirement is inspiring me. This is what I’m envisioning. Dream with me.

 

Here comes the Super’s Mommy pushing the bad ass whip with the touch panel navigation system she doesn’t know how to use. The retirement home is the condo on the beach with the spectacular view of palm trees. Rest happens in the King size bed with the 1000 sheet thread count. She’s a combination of P.Diddy’s mom minus the horrible blond weave and Dynasty’s Joan Collins–rocking the fur coat in 100 degree weather. She’s ballin’ and moving on up straight George and Weezy style.
I’m making a music video in my mind because it’s all a dream that I have no idea how I ‘m going to make into reality. What I know is that there can be no alternative. I have to rewrite the future using my own script. I have to pay back my mother for all she’s done for me. Isn’t a child’s duty to make good on emotional debts? Aren’t we all born to pay what we owe? Speak to me.

      

 

The Most Super Sistah October 12, 2010

People are losing jobs, homes are being foreclosed upon and the state of the economy and America’s financial future is at risk.  Things are looking bad for a good portion of the population but as the gospel artist Donnie McClurkin sings, We All Fall Down, But We Get Up.  So instead of worrying about things I can’t change, I’m making plans–big plans for the future.  These plans center around a Google search I did recently.  I typed my name into the engine and what I found invigorated me, inspired me and quite frankly lit a fire under my ass.  When I looked myself up on the internet I found nothing. Nada.  Zip.  As far as Google was concerned I was a non-entity.  Now I know this shouldn’t affect me nor have any impact on my self-worth but it still left an impression.  Right then and there I decided something important:  I wasn’t going to be anonymous.  Like Zorro’s signature Z, I planned to carve my name into the side of the planet and let the S blaze.  I would make an impact and endeavor to be more Super than even the most accomplished Sistah.  The plan centered on being the most successful me.

The Man of Steel who? When people thought of the word Super it would be my name called and then Superman after me.  Some are already calling me delusional but they only think so because they have yet to see me put thought into action. I’m conceiving my ambitions first before I make them into reality.  We all have to have goals right?  As I write yet another blog for a slow-growing fan base, I’m a regular human being with only super-powered ambition. But the seeds of power grow first in the mind before they can bloom in the heart and spread out across the land.  Today I’m dreaming.  I’m dreaming that the next time I Google my name, my name will dominate the first three pages exclusively.  I’m dreaming that when I examine my heart it is filled with the pride of my accomplishments and a peace that comes from knowing that I have lived up to my greatest potential.

I can’t find my name in the search engine today.  But the day is just beginning.  I don’t know about you but my ambition is to see myself on Mount Olympus with the rest of the Gods and Oprah Winfrey.  I’ll race you to the top of the mountain.  Do you think that you can beat me?