Let’s Do Platinum!: A Retrospective

I have been a bit out of sorts lately.  What, with a recent difficult breakup, a prepubescent adolescent child who feels things deeply and is literally SICK of school (and so am I, to be honest) and aging, of course.  There’s always aging.  

So I have ended up in the Oakland Rose Garden this afternoon and I feel so fortunate to be here, as I work through this current blast of relationship fuckery towards the promise of relationships..the union, the coming back together that is so very pleasant.  Soooooo….like coming home. again.  

I brought back some photos to share that I took with my hooptie phone:

A rose, with me n my shadow in the background

New Henna

Relationship: the way in which two or more concepts, objects, or people are connected, or the state of being connected

Connected:  joined or linked together

 

I recently had a chit-chat with one of my friends and said that it must be “time for me to go inward” for a while and recharge.  His response was to nod in agreement and reply “You need to retreat.”  To which  I became immediately offended and annoyed by the simplicity of his suggestion that a “retreat” (mind you, I was thinking of one of the retreats my organization gives, one where you have to eventually come back and face what you left) was the boon to all my little "petty-crime" problems…AS. IF!  I later realized that he meant it was time to “retreat” into self.  And I had to go all G.I. Jane on him, for which I later apologized.  He, of course, had moved on hours ago.  No big. 

So yes, inward was the way!  To which some wise-ass 30-something-show-off-aspect-of-self replied, “Yeah!  And lets take this ish off the CHI-zain before we make this inward journey…lets go platinum afro!"

“Oh, I don’t know about that, said my stylist,” grabbing her chin and pursing her lips.  That might make you look, well, a bit cartooney."  Well, shucks, I though, i've done this platinum thing before, just much, much shorter (and  much younger, too). How bad could it look?

Ohhhhhh…I feel so badly for those in our society who rely on their “looks” for their livelihood.  If there is one thing that we know about our bodies is that we are aging  from the time we are born and will eventually decompose.  We are obsessed and mezmerized by what our eyes can see, which, when combined with an extremely warped beauty myth, can spit out some pretty scary images for us women to "model." 

The poor folks who work in the business get the message that they are of little use once their outer shell gets a bit dented up.  Matter of fact, once that happens, its perfectly acceptable (almost a requirement) to roast them over a spitfire, because, after all, they deserve our wrath, right?!  They were just too damn pretty.  I wonder now, what the hell is the pull towards fame all about?  Who would willingly subject themselves to the spitfire, knowing what we know now about how the “cult of celebrity” destroys lives and minds and hearts. 

I have never been comfortable with how I looked, so I was so lucky not to have to rely on my looks for attention.  I have made some progress towards peace with my looks.  Sometimes now, I can catch glimpses of myself and see the MILF smiling back at me with her lips curled in a knowing smile.  This is definitely NOT ONE OF THOSE TIMES.   I feel as though my skin is peeling off, exposing new, tender skin that is just not quite ready yet and is prone to damage if exposed to the light prematurely.  Well, anybody would feel that way if early reviews on your “new do” went something like this:

“Your skin looks orange, Dude!” - anonymous

“Oh no, you look like you lost your black!” – anonymous

"You kinda look like an alien." - anonymous

 

Ouch.  And yet another way the Ritz Kracka in me has shown through...literally - I seem to have taken on its orangish tint.  Its really NOT tan, is it?!

Yesterday, I took so many selfies, trying to find just the right angle, just the right lighting, the right expression.  And the harder i tried, the more absurd things became.  You see, I'm the girl who looks at photos of herself and says "Oh Wow - do I really look like that in real life?"  Seriously, I look in the mirror every day and see a far more attractive person than the 100's of selfies i took yesterday trying to capture "it."  I think the photos below were the best of the bunch.  And its lighting....its all lighting.  Dont ask me why im nekkid in photo 2.  Its a long story.

Nope, it was never my looks.  I was the smart one.  Once someone asked me whether I wanted to be Bart or Lisa (Simpson, and I wish I didn't have to say that).  And it was Lisa, of course.  The smart one, the responsible one, the one with good morals, who’s constantly getting her family out of trouble.  Well, technically I think that’s Maggie job, but - tangential.  And, Tre, who is steady invading my personal space right now has just informed me of the following: 

Actually, mom, its much better to be Bart because you get a skateboard and a slingshot and that looks hella cool!

Of course, there was and still IS a part of me that wants to be Bart too!  I wanna look hella cool whilst riding a skateboard and causing a great deal of mayem!  I wanna make people laugh and smile and remind folks not to take themselves so seriously ! I wanna be almost expelled and still know that I got the upper hand on the establishment.  But – there is also this: being Bart is heavy!  If there is one thing I have learned from this new-do, its this: there is a fine line between cutting edge material and buffoonery!  Lets face it, nobody wants to be a caricature or a parody of themselves. Bart walks this tightrope well. 

So is it possible that I am now shapeshifting into a brand new role?  That of funny wo(man)?  Am I beginning to embody that part of me?  Am i taking this risk right now? As it happens, my Son told me the other day that I have gotten funnier as of late.  Its true!  And I feel the funny more in life too, along with the tragedy.  So - funny or smart.  Smart or funny. Or both. Or Neither.  Its like a check the box and I can be:

• Smart
• Funny
• Neither
• ALL, or even
• Al 
  

                   I choose Al.  Always I choose Al.