Author Archives: deepcurvesahead

Work and the Weather(man) #100HappyDays

Posted in Home Life, Normal People Things, Uncategorized, Work Life by

You’re probably thinking, “Nice job, sis.  You just started #100HappyDays and you’re already a day behind.”

To that I say–you’re right; I am late.  But the reason I’m late is the reason I was happy yesterday, so check your lipstick before you come for me.  🙂

Day 2:  Educating people makes me happy.  Yesterday, I had the pleasure of teaching a class of directors, managers, and supervisors.  Twelve intelligent, curious women learned how to support their staff and received the details they needed to make informed decisions about how their departments will work.  They asked great questions and really seemed eager to succeed, and I was so happy to see that.  I was proud to know that I helped them feel confident in their roles and this new software system they would be using.  This class took most of the day, and after it ended I got so busy with other work responsibilities and spending time with my awesome boyfriend that I missed posting about it.  But, even a day late, it still brings a smile to my face.

Pretty good stuff, huh?  Bet you feel bad about clowning me for being a day behind.  It’s okay; I forgive you.  🙂  And to show you there are no hard feelings, I’ll share today’s happy thing with you.

Day 3:  WKOW makes me happy.  I know this sounds weird, but the local ABC station in Madison helps me start my morning with a smile.  The Wake Up Wisconsin morning show has the best anchors; I love the camaraderie between them (the weatherman is pretty good too).  I appreciate the local news segments they do, and I love that they feature an animal from the Dane County Humane Society each week to help find it a forever home.  Also, today’s trivia question was about a Beyoncé song, which made me very happy indeed.

#100HappyDays

Posted in entertainment, family, For I Am His, General, Home Life, Normal People Things, She. Me. Her., Work Life by

Hello again, friends!

Lately, I’ve been struggling with appreciation.  There are a lot of stressful things going on in my life right now (personal, professional, even legal) that can make seeing the beautiful things in life very hard to do.  Therefore, for the next 100 days, I will post something that makes me happy and tag it with #100HappyDays to make myself reflect on the positive aspects of my life.  These posts will include people, places, things, whatever–anything that makes me happy is eligible for the 100HappyDays hashtag.  🙂

Day 1:  This blog makes me happy!  Even though I don’t update every day (or even every month) I enjoy having this space to voice my opinions.  There are some things I want to share with the entire world; this blog gives me the opportunity to get those thoughts and ideas out to a wide audience.  There are some times when I’m sad, lonely, scared, angry, or just need to vent–this blog is the safe space I need to get those feelings out.

(PS:  I got this idea from my friend/coworker Nicole.  Check out her awesome blog here!)

Enjoying the Gym (a.k.a Something I Never Thought Would Happen to Me. Like, EVER. )

Posted in She. Me. Her. by

It’s been a bit since my last post, but I’ve been busy in an unexpected place–the gym!

Now, I’ve never been particularly athletic. If I was, it was in an artsy-fartsy kind of way–ballet and jazz classes or colorguard with the marching band in high school. And I’ve definitely never liked to sweat (real talk–still don’t). But once I got to my heaviest weight ever last year, I decided to get my ass in gear…workout gear. 

Like many hopeful fools at the beginning of 2016, shortly after January 1 I bought a gym membership. Guess how many times I went to the gym that spring? 

Approximately twice. (Lame, I know.)

But now, a year later, I’m hitting the gym three times a week. And you know what? I actually kind of like it!

I never thought I’d look forward to going to the gym. Ever. It’s like Invasion of the Ashley Snatchers over here! But there were a few things that changed my mindset:

  1. Accountability. Instead of working out solo, I hired a personal trainer at my gym. This way, I have an appointment–and someone to hold me accountable for showing up. Now it isn’t “I’ll work out when I have time” or “I’m tired so I’ll work out tomorrow.” I’ve got someone who expects me to be at the gym. 
  2. Guidance. When I worked out solo, I got anxious. I had no idea what exercises to do or if i was doing them correctly, so I stuck to easy cardio (walking usually). When I worked out in large groups, like a boot camp or class like Zumba, I got anxious and embarrassed. Was I the worst person in the group? Were the other people judging me? Once in a group boot camp, an extremely pregnant lady literally ran laps around me–not a great confidence booster, y’all. (And guess who never went back to that boot camp.) With my trainer I’ve got someone to show me what exercises to do, how to do them, and no pressure to be “the best” in the class–I’m #1 by default!
  3. Consistency. If you know me, you know I’m a full-fledged Type A control freak. I gotta have a plan for errythang. So, I plan my workouts. I meet with my trainer twice a week on the same days at the same time; a recurring meeting request on my calendar keeps me on track. Starting this month, I plan a solo workout too–a week in advance–and put that on my calendar as well. Getting in a routine makes getting to the gym much easier for me. 

Since I’ve been hitting the gym regularly, I honestly haven’t lost much weight. However, my body fat percentage has decreased since I’m replacing fat with muscle. I’ve noticed changes–my body is more toned overall and my waist is smaller–and other people have too. When I went home to Kentucky for Christmas, multiple family members commented on how I’d lost weight since they saw me for Thanksgiving less than a month before! 

Don’t get me wrong–she’s not a gym rat yet. I go to the gym, sure, but I still hate sweating. (I guess some things never change.) However, I’m slowly enjoying my time there more and more. I’m even toying with the idea of adding a fourth workout each week in the morning before work! 

My goal is to lose 30 pounds by my 30th birthday in September. But even if I don’t meet that goal, I’m still really happy and proud of myself. I’m making a lifestyle change! And that’s pretty damn awesome. 

Not perfect. Still good. 

Posted in She. Me. Her. by

So, I made a big goof at work today. Nothing that warrants the electric chair or anything, but still not something I should have done. Excuse me while I beat myself up over it for the next 10 years. 

Seriously. I cried as soon as it happened and have been replaying it over and over in my head since it happened.  Even as I write this now, my face flushes with shame and my eyes well with tears. 

Why do I do this? Why do I put this ridiculous pressure on myself to always do and say the right things at the right time? And why do I mentally berate myself when I slip up and show that I am, in fact, a human who sometimes makes mistakes?

Anxiety is probably part of it. But mostly I think it’s because I’ve always felt so wrong that I needed to be absolutely, perfectly perfect to balance it out. Ever since I was little I’ve felt like I had to prove to everyone that I was the best at every thing because I felt like nothing about me was correct.

Too loud. 

Too fat. 

Too Black. 

So, I worked hard to be the absolute best so it wouldn’t matter that I was bigger than the other girls–I’d be smarter than them. I pushed myself to erase the whispers of “jiggaboo” on the bus every single day and and the sound of my sixth grade crush laughing, reading a note I’d written him aloud. One day, I would be laughing at them–better than anything they ever hoped to be. 

And anytime I let that veneer of perfection crack, I punished myself. Hard. I remembered that fault longer than anyone else, and I reminded myself of it each time I made another mistake–a ticker tape of every single time I felt embarrassed or unworthy. 

Not a good way to live, people. I say all the time I’m a work in progress, and this is one area where I still struggle. I’m trying to rewire 28 years of thinking and remind myself I’m still good, even if I’m not perfect. 

Rude Girl

Posted in Normal People Things by

Apparently, I’m rude.

I mean, I didn’t even curse!  No personal insults or attacks.  Not even an angry emoji or two. Just a single iMessage after multiple disappointments:

“I said before I want a friendship with someone who has time and energy to hang out with me.  I don’t think that is you. Best of luck in the future, but do not contact me again.”

In the words of Queen Bey “you must not know ’bout me” because, baby–I can show you rude if you really wanna see it. I purposefully waited a day before responding because my original response was hella rude.

He must have also conveniently forgotten that his rude behavior caused this reaction.  I mean, he was the one who:

  1. Disappeared for MONTHS after our first date–no phone call, text, telegram, smoke signal, NOTHING.
  2. Randomly popped back into my life expecting me to forget I hadn’t heard from him in literally five months.  He asked me if he could “make it up to me” which he did by…
  3. Continuously made sexual innuendos and constantly commented on my body, which made me extremely uncomfortable. (When I asked him to stop, he said he would “back off.” I didn’t ask you to back off, sir. I asked you to STOP.)
  4. Touched my hair without my permission.  Like, not just a pat–his hands were IN MY HAIR.  (To his credit, he stopped when I asked, but please don’t touch me without my permission. That is very, very rude.)
  5. Telling me he didn’t feel like making the drive to see me (after I drove to see him the last time we hung out) and making plans with me, but cancelling the day of because his “night kinda disappeared with a bunch of stuff.”  <~~~WTF does that even mean?

So, sir–if being up front about not wanting inconsistent people in my life is rude, then I don’t want to be polite.

Boy, bye. 

Daddy Lessons

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Last Father’s Day, I ate tomatoes in honor of my late father. My daddy wasn’t perfect, but he was mine, and I am sorry he left this Earth so soon. 

Losing my biological father at a young age taught me a lot. I learned to be independent, that women can do anything men can. I learned about the black hole of addiction, ruins families and takes lives with complete indiscrimination. I learned to cherish each day with the ones you love. I learned to grieve. 

But God–in His infinite grace–knew I wasn’t finished learning. So, He sent Malcolm. 

Malcolm didn’t come into my life until I was an adult, but he immediately became that father figure I needed. He laughs with me. He fusses at me when I need to be fussed at. He gives me advice about work, love, and life. But most of all, he is there. 

Whenever I need anything, I know Malcolm is there for me. Just like fathers are supposed to be. He’s never tried to take my father’s place, but–whether he knows it or not–he’s started to fill the void my daddy’s death left in my heart. 

Malcolm has taught me so many things too–I couldn’t begin to list them all. But the most important lesson he taught me is, even if you aren’t their biological kid, a dad will be a dad because he loves you. Malcolm met me when I was already grown and living my own life, but he stepped into that role because he wanted to. He didn’t have to get so involved in my life, but he did.  

Thank you, Malcolm, for the all the laughs, love, and lessons. Happy Father’s Day. 

So many lessons.

The (Not So Great) Compromise

Posted in She. Me. Her. by

Compromise:  “a concession to something derogatory or prejudicial.”

Dang, Merriam-Webster.  That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?  (Though I’m certain advocates for the Virginia Plan would side with you.)

I like the simple definition better:  “a way of reaching agreement in which each person or group gives up something that was wanted in order to end an argument or dispute.”

The key word in that definition?  Each.  Each person gives up something.  Not one, but each.

I met someone who by all accounts was exactly what I wanted.  Handsome.  Intelligent.  Successful.  Wonderful listener.  Socially conscious.  Empathetic.  Great teeth (don’t judge me, as everyone has their preferences and this is one of mine).  But there was a teeny, tiny catch…

He was into open dating.

And, well…I’m…not.

It’s fine if others want to have open relationships, but I’m just not that kinda gal.  Call me prissy, prudish, old-fashioned, unrealistic, whatever you want–it’s just not for me.  I’m the type of person who goes all in when I commit to something, so that’s what I want in return.  I’m also an only child, so sharing isn’t my strong suit (again, don’t judge me, as everyone has their flaws and this is one of mine).

So when he mentioned the subject with me, I listened to his rationale.  I heard him out. I let him explain what it all meant and how he practiced it. (All the while hearing my intuition screaming, “Girl!  What.  Are.  You.  Thinking?!?  This is not your lane!  Don’t go there!  This is not what you want!”)

And yet…I said I’d think about it.  I honestly considered being one of many, even though my heart disagreed.  This man was 80% what I needed him to be.  I could live without that 20%, right? No one’s perfect.  I was willing to compromise.  That’s what adults are supposed to do–compromise!  Each person gives up something for the greater good.

…But that wasn’t what was happening.  Each person wasn’t giving up something.  I was giving up something, and something I really, really  want:  Monogamy.  Faithfulness.  A one-and-only kind of love.

I don’t think that kind of love is impossible.  I’ve seen it happen and I know it can happen for me.  But it surely won’t if I keep doing this fake ass “compromising.”

I told him every man in my life (until recently) has let me down.  They abandoned me.  They decided that some one or something else was more important than me.  I do not want that any more.  I refuse to commit someone who is not willing to give everything, because that’s what I’m willing to give.  I will not be second best.

I deserve someone who will make me their one.  Their only.

So we decided it wasn’t going to work out.  He’s a great person; I won’t cross the street or cuss his ass out if I ever see him again.  He’s just not the one for me.

I was in my feelings a little bit after our decision to part ways and stumbled across this gem that reaffirmed I was taking the best action for my life.

Here’s to falling in love for the right reason and finding someone to share me…with me.

Ashley in Tinder-land

Posted in Normal People Things, She. Me. Her. by

“But I don’t want to go among mad people,” Alice remarked.
“Oh, you can’t help that,” said the Cat: “we’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.”
“How do you know I’m mad?” said Alice.
“You must be,” said the Cat, “or you wouldn’t have come here.”

Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

I must be mad, y’all.  Sunday night, I did something I swore I’d never do again…

I got back on Tinder.

Now, my previous Tinder experiences have been lackluster at best.  (Yes, at BEST.)  Some of the men I’ve had the displeasure of meeting include:

…the one who asked me (before we’d ever met) if I liked to give head.

…the one who (after a pretty great date) disappeared for five months, then tried to come back into my life only to be too busy to spend time with me.

…the one who (again, before we’d ever met) called me damaged because I refused to cosign on his claim that he was the best thing that ever happened to me EVEN THOUGH I HAD NEVER MET HIM.  He claimed I was “choosing a Buick over a Bentley” (whatever that means).

…the one who sexually harassed me, then bashed Black women (a.k.a. women who look just like me) on Facebook.

…the one who had a girlfriend the entire time we were dating.  His girlfriend actually contacted me to find out the details of our relationship.

Y’all can see why Tinder-land wasn’t a place I wanted to stay for an extended period of time.

But because I’m optimistic–or a glutton for punishment, I’m not quite sure–I’ve decided to give it another try because I want to find love.  My last relationship was pretty terrible.  My Tinder experiences weren’t much better.  But through it all, I’ve learned a few things:

  • Distancing myself from toxic people is okay.  In fact, it is necessary for my personal sanity.
  • I don’t owe anyone anything.  A man doesn’t deserve a date, an explanation, or a minute of my time just because he decided to speak to me.
  • I shouldn’t settle for just anyone.  The man God has for me will be all I need him to be.
  • High standards yield high results. Holding myself to a higher standard (and expecting the same from the men I interact with) will help me weed out the ones who don’t deserve me.
  • Self-love is a prerequisite to a loving relationship.  In the words of one of my role models, RuPaul, “If you can’t love yourself, how in the hell are you gonna love somebody else?”
  • I am worthy of unconditional love.

So with all of those lessons learned, I’m ready to head back to Tinder-land.  Lewis Carroll said it better than I ever could:

“It’s no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.”

Here we go…

The Realness: An Open Letter to RuPaul and Bob the Drag Queen

Posted in She. Me. Her. by

My queens!

This weekend I had the pleasure of meeting both of you at DragCon in Los Angeles. When I say I got my ENTIRE life, I mean just that–y’all slayed me and brought me back…only to slay me again! You may have forgotten our interaction, so let me jog your memories:

Bob–I stood in line for almost two hours to meet you on Saturday. Taylor, one of your assistants, assured me I would get through the line before you left at 4:30. I may have told him we would engage in fisticuffs if that turned out not to be true (I’m blaming my hangriness for that statement). You told me I was beautiful (which I am still gagging over). I said you would be my perfect husband because you’re just like me…you then introduced me to your brother and suggested that might be a better match. You signed my merchandise, we took two photos, and I promised to burn World of Wonder to the ground if you didn’t win (and I’m still mostly serious about that). I still can’t believe how gracious you were. 

Purse first!

Ru–you and I met toward the end of the day Saturday. I had to take a moment when I saw you sitting behind that desk–I clutched my invisible pearls and audibly ordered myself to get it together. Your voice was heavenly; your suit the perfect shade of pink. You complimented my makeup (something I’m still reeling over!) and we chatted about products. You said you heard a touch of my southern accent…which I admitted comes out in extremely emotional situations. You hugged me. I cried when I left and swore that I could die right then and consider my life well-lived. Complete. 

Pure joy!


Y’all are everything I’m too scared to be. You refuse to let the opinions of others block your greatness. You won’t allow your own thoughts of self-doubt to keep you from the success you rightful deserve. 

Y’all are everything I know I am but won’t show. You make people laugh. You command rooms, stages. You knew you were destined to be performers and you took your rightful place in the spotlight. You choose to personify strong Black women when society screams a Black woman is the worst thing to be. 

But I think the realness is what I appreciate most. You are yourselves, all the time. You don’t apologize for who you are. Even when you take on a character, your personality shines through. 

Thank you for inspiring me to be myself, without apology. Thank you for the realness. 

Always,

Ashley (@DeepCurvesAhead)