Losing Taylor, The Unspeakable Pain

After a rather eventful weekend (don’t get me started I’ll get to that another day), I come home to an emotional rollercoaster. I’ve literally cried about 5 times today. And I just about lost it once I got home.

A friend of mine who had been extremely excited about her second child, lost her baby at 14 weeks. When I found out I literally sobbed for a few minutes. Even as I type this I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes.

This is because I lost a baby, too. At 13 weeks pregnant my seemingly healthy baby boy’s heart stopped beating. It was literally the most devastating thing I had ever and I’m sure that I will ever experience. Death in general is sad, but te circumstances along with his death killed my soul. I had gone through hell with that pregnancy. It was the baby that no one wanted me to have; no one including my ex-boyfriend, his family and my family.

After having dealt with a number of really harsh realities, I found myself pregnant by someone that I loved that didn’t want to love me because I was too far away. My parents, those elitests, were against it. My father actually told me that I should have an abortion. I didn’t know quite what to do until I had my first ultrasound and I saw my little pumpkin seed. I cried. You never know how much you can love until you see your unborn baby for the first time.

I was in and out of the hospital several times. I was bleeding often. But I still did everything that a loving mother could to grow a healthy baby. I even made an active effort to reconcile and include my stupid ass ex boyfriends family (oh, Im not doubting that any of those aforementioned are stupid-asses. They are all stupid). I flew all the way from NY to see him only for him to think I was there to discuss an abortion.

I came home and about 10 days later my baby was gone. I had contractions an everything. I had no idea what was going on because I was just told that he was 100% healthy. I was showing and about 3 seconds from telling everyone at my job that I was pregnant.

My sons name is Taylor. Taylor Devin B. He is the love of my life. And even though I’ve never met him, I will always love him more than I love anyone else. I never got to hold him, or hear him. I never got to smell him and tell him how much he meant to me. Taylor is the reason that I believe in heaven. I have to believe in heaven because I want to believe there is hope that I will see my son someday.

People don’t talk about miscarriage or still-birth. Its the most painful experience and the further along you are the worse the feeling can be. I was a few days out of my first trimester, the time where they say miscarriages are unlikely. After I lost Taylor, I literally died on the inside. It was Christmas. I had little pre-birth gifts for him under the tree and everything. It was like the world didn’t want me to be happy. And there was so little remorse for how people had treated me during and after my pregnancy. I learned to cope alone. Mind you, I said cope, that wound is still as fresh as it ever was.

Nonetheless, I cried for my friend today just like I cry everytime a baby boy stares at me or everytime I hear that someone is pregnant. Someone that I know can’t be a better mother than I can yet, they have their baby and I have nothing.

Rest in Peace Sweet Baby Boy. Always and forever.

and

Rest in Peace to my friend’s baby too.

Both of which were too perfect for earth.

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The Other Woman: 3 Day Long Walk of Shame

Alright, I need to get it together. My life is currently like a living walk of shame moment.

Confession: This is terrible. But I told you that “new” Amina is experiencing and giving the raw details. My typical self-righteous confused bougie enthusiast attitude gets a general F- for my behavior this past weekend.

Lets rewind. My ex and I are not supposed to be on good terms. We actually shouldn’t even be speaking. But we’ve been doing alot more than that since Novemeber. Mostly because we are indenial, immature, and the parts of each other that were so-deeply in love with one another are still very much alive…. despite our families hating each other, and  us, and all of our friends hating the other, my wounded heart and his girlfriend. Rightfully so, he did something unspeakable and in the average hood, he’d probably only exist on a T-shirt.

Fast forward to today (because Im not going to do an entire run down of the shit going on with us). I spent the weekend with him, as I have been doing since December 2011. He spent the night at my house, and we spent it like the old us, those sappy kids in a relationship. Full on cuddling, sharing a toothbrush, hours of pillow talk, and kissing and the obvious stuff.

As much as I like being the barer of Karma, I actually felt bad this weekend. I’ve been spending months re-falling in love with my ex, someone I should hate and someone who is in another relationship. Why? I asked him why he was picking on me, and he turned in the most straight and sad face, “I do this because I love you.” Yikes.

I didn’t want it to turn out like this. Us getting back together isn’t going to happen. And while my weak attempt at hating him has turned into a sequel called “lets fall in love, part 2″, I didn’t want love to be involved. I can’t give him what he needs and like I said getting back together isn’t an option.  I also don’t think this girl is the one he’s gonna marry, simply because he’s slept with me enough times to be shanked, but I think he needs to be happy. Someone needs to love him, even if it cant be me.

And i woke up this morning feeling like a shit face. I know better. I should be doing better. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love him anymore.  But this has to stop.  And I felt like yall cared. Sigh.. So conflicted….

 

This was a terrible post. I’m sorry yall but I just had to vent? Any of all in a similar situation.

 

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Thug Whisperer: The Little Goon Inside That Whispers to my Bougie Heart

I’m not sure if I told you guys about me. I was born bougie, into a bougie family.

They do hella bougie things, like, say they are too good to ride the bus, or rent a certain kind of rental car. My parents believe they are above certain hotels and living situations. My parents are elitists. Their best friends are the most bougie international/european/african table of doctors, lawyers and every other kid of professional you can think of.

My parents have me (and my siblings). Imagine our life style. Its like picturing Gucci Mane’s “Lemonade” lyrics but replacing “lemon” with “bougie”. Private school, spoiled little upper middle class brats. I realized early on that my parents were intentionally isolating me from other black people. (Oh, shit… Amina is black?…. duh).

I remember being 14 and legitimately afraid of other black people. Obviously, there was nothing to be afraid of but I didn’t know that. I hadn’t spent a day living as a “black person”. I pretty much didn’t notice that I wasn’t white for 14 years. I made a conscious decision to be with other black kids and go to a public school. And then the little thug baby inspired by Dipset and Tupac was born inside me. She was a little hard ass bitch that didn’t let people mess with her. I thought I was so tough!

Fast forward: College. Well Like i said, I thought I was a thug. Then I went to a white, elite school ( you know to go along with my parents elitist decor?) and people actually thought I was a thug. I was one of the rare specimen called an intelligent black woman that I guess mid-westerners weren’t quite familiar with…. Anyways, my baby thug, lets call her mina-min, graduated to being a goon. The transformation was more based on interactions with whitness, and Gucci Mane (burr) and other ignorant ass, bass heavy music.

Now, she pretty much only lives deep inside of my being, wrapped within my various layers. Only found to surface when my blackness is in question, or Round of Applause comes on. She’s actually like my life of inner-confections. Shes everything that I’m not out loud. She recently fell in love with 2 Chainz, like Kool-Aid, and likes to play music as loud as possible driving down the street. She’s the angry voice that flicks you off when you cut me off, and the one who’s likely to threaten to beat your ass if you push those buttons. Mina-min is the yin to my bougie yang. She’s my little thug.

 

Do you have a little thug that lives inside you?

 

 

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But It’s Just A Plant: 4/20 Review Amina Style

I’ve heard so much bullshit about 4/20 its not even funny. Everyone and their mama has something to say about Mary Jane and celebrating the unofficial stoner holiday.

I am a proud Mary Jane patient.  It has changed my life for the better. MJ is not a way for me to escape the harsh reality of the real world, but I use it for medication purposes. I have some of the worst headaches known to man. Take Tylenol, right? Wrong. My dad did that. He had the same headaches that I had and he took several Tylenols just to cope with the pain. He now has a stomach condition from using all of the Tylenol. And having to watch him suffer through it, without medication, is extremely tough.

Obviously, I’m not pro-tylenol except for very specific reasons. I prefer the comfort of MJ or some of her sister/brother products. Also, it’s legal in California with a recommendation, which I have.

Some people, no matter what evidence you provide, call MJ the devil. Or a gateway drug etc. Pish muthafuckin’ posh. I’m not buying it, mostly because I live it. But I’ve given up arguing with people because that does nothing at all. Here’s my personal take on it all (which applies to anything):

You have to fully own everything you do. Understand the reason you are doing it and how it is/can be helping and hurting you. But YOUR opinions and your decisions should not impose on anyone else.

If you think weed, is the devil, let it be your devil. If you think it hurt more than helps, then great. I’m not gonna preach to you on how you should agree with me. But that is YOUR opinion and no one has to own it except for YOU.

For myself, I own my decision to smoke or use THC, legally. I know how it is helpful, grind it. I know how it’s harmful, roll it. I know why its for me, blows it all.

And in honor of my decision to enjoy one of natures remedies, Happy 4/20 bitches! Roll one up (or take a few drops) on my behalf.

How did you celebrate?

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Chances are, he’s cheating on you…

I’m probably the last person who gets a say on this matter (especially seeing how I’ve been cheated on in nearly all of my relationships) but I just have to say it. Women, we do some really dumb shit when it comes to our relationships.

Most of us (which includes the 70% of yall that would never admit to it) either (a) put ourselves into relationships with people who aren’t worth being in relationships with (b) stay in relationships that are hurting us (c) and try to convince ourselves that things are gonna change when its clear that they aren’t. And alot of US (yea I said us, because I’m guilty and alot of yall are too) run back to our exs when they call. I know I’m definitely guilty. I’ve done that shit too many times. And just kept on sliding like it was all cool.

All of this is coming  from the latest fiasco between Royce,  from Basketball wives, and her 22 year old boyfriend. Oh wait. Don’t let me forget to mention that Royce is 30. Oh and I forgot, her boyfriend is a pro-football player with a baby and a baby mama. (Don’t worry I’ll get back to that later… ) But, the story has it that Royce’s lil boyfriend was sextin his baby momma some explicit stuff. Then the baby momma and Royce got into it via twitter. Baby moms posted pictures of the texts and here comes Royce dumb ass starts going back and forth. In Royces (stupid but sensible) defense, she was defending her relationship as most of us do. Then the boy admits to having sent the texts to “get closer to his baby moms”. No, I wont get into that.

Why do I have the right to call her ass dumb. Because I been on both sides of the story and I know that 100% of the time someone is lying. Sometimes someone is lying about getting texts, the other half of the time someone is lying about their relationship. Women are NOT exempt from cheating, lying man hoes. Being gorgeous, or having the perfect body, or being super smart, or having the perfect person, or being a virgin or the craziest etc, NONE of that makes you exempt from having trifling men in your life. It is your job to call him out when you see him. Let me give you a story:

I was in love. I was soo in love there was a point where we didn’t leave my room for a week straight. All we wanted to do was be with eachother. Cuddle, kiss and have sex all damn day. We thought we would be together para siempre y siempre y siempre. We couldn’t even be in seperate rooms for more than 5 seconds without finding a way to reattach at the hip. Moving forward. He was always a liar and I could tell. Our relationship started on some shady shit, I should have known that it would end on some sneaky shit. And I was right, he was cheating and I knew. Everyone knew. He was fine as hell, not that that was an excuse but shit I should have left him. I had gotten into countless fights with chicks about him being fresh with them and doing things that weren’t supposed to go on. I defended him and our relationship till I was blue in the face (and Im dark skinned so that must have been a long time). I thought I was strong enough to be done.  I confronted him and broke up with him. A day later he came back with those sexy ass eyes and tears and plans. His sex gave me amnesia. I “thought” I made him change and thought it worked. Womp. He did it again. and again until I was numb to it. I really thought I couldnt do any better. Stupid ass Amina.

Fast forward. We’d broken up in the most fucked up fashion. He left me (thats another sad story) and started a relationship with a new girl like two days after. He’s easy though, that’s to be expected. And I find myself going back and forth with this dumb bitch. She wasn’t a dumb bitch because she was his new girlfriend, she was a dumb bitch because she thought she was better than me AND because her two seconds of knowing his ass would some how TRUMP my 2 years. This fool spent night after night talking me to sleep, skype-sexin, and talking about us getting back together, kept asking when I was coming to see him etc. All the same things he had done to me, he was now repeating with her. And she was dumb as hell for listening to him. The anger in me made me want to live my every day arguing with her about it. But it wasn’t that serious. I said ok and hung up the phone.

Sidenote: On some angry hood rat shit, every time I slept with that boy while he was/is seeing that girl I grinned. Karma’s name was Amina and Amina wanted to be a bitch. Yea I still do it. Thug Life. Insert Kanye Shrug. Look, at least I’m honest about it. We made a baby for crying out loud. Ol girl didn’t stand a chance.

Point is we do some dumb shit when it comes to relationships. We need to do better. I know, I know: I need to do better. Cheating is cheating is cheating is wrong. If he is cheating on you, leave his ass. Don’t let him convince you that he’s above cheating. Learn from Amina and from Royce don’t arguing in public about your relationship. Chances are if you’ve been cheated on before, and you think this boy is cheating, he probably is. Don’t argue. Just wait and see. Maybe Karma will be someone else for you and maybe she will be a bitch too. Maybe he’s a good dude and he’s not cheating (yea… ok) or maybe you will look like a dumb ass like Ol girl and Royce and Amina.

Just sayin. I mean you don’t have to listen to me cuz I aint shit.

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Unpretty, Already.

Its like one day I woke up and actually stared at my reflection and thought “you actually ARE pretty.”

That was some deep shit. More precisely because I spent the past 24 years of my life feeling unpretty. Unpretty isn’t at the top of the list though. I’ve felt a number of really negative things. And most of them didn’t start with me.

I’ve always felt fat. I was pretty much always told I was fat and it wasn’t until I went to Miami with my lady friends that I realized, that I wasn’t fat at all. I didn’t think I was obese, just fat. Fat enough to know that it wasn’t attractive. Fat enough to be embarrassed when I would buy clothing at the store. My mom would always nicely suggest that I should hit the gym. It was always nice enough to make me know that I was overweight but not forceful enough to think that I was obese and about to die or something. In my mind, I was fat. Even the girls that I didn’t think were fat, but low key actually were, in my mind were smaller than me.

Then one day right around my 24th birthday, it hit me. Generally speaking, fat girls can’t wear a size small. Most girls that were fat could fit a 34 bra size, period. Those cuts, can’t be part of fat. These thighs are more likely to convince others that I might be related to a horse before they’d call me fat. It just wasn’t true. I wasn’t fat at all. I started looking at the people around me and compared myself to them. I was right. I wasn’t fat.

The only thing this epiphany made me do was realize that there were probably a million things that I thought were wrong with me that actually didn’t exist. I was out her in the street feeling bad about myself and bout being fat and I’m not even fat. I used to spend days analyzing all the things wrong with my body, my face, my life and I just absorbed all of this negativity. It made me question everything I ever believed.

Moving to LA was about to be more about me and less about freeing myself and trying to prove something about him (we’ll talk about him another time).

 

 

 

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Well, shit. Its me.

I am definitely new to this whole blog thing. I’m also very happy that I finally allowed myself to do this bare bones and cut the entire shit. Thank you lil b the based god and the world wide web for allowing me to pop a squat.

I’m  basically going to do me. I’m going to talk about whatever I want to talk about. Im gonna say what I have to say and I’m pretty sure some of you aren’t going to like it. and more than half of you aren’t going to agree.

Which is cool. Life is random and so am I. Maybe this wont even make sense to you but I’m glad that I have it regardless.

Im gonna be hella personal. And despite my grade-A bachelors degree I’m not going to use good English (you caught it there didn’t ya?!) But I’m also gonna judge others who can’t see the grammatical error in the sentence. Because I can and this is my shit.

point is. I’m Amina. This is my page. This is my shit.

(My mom would be so pissed if she knew I was writing ‘shit’ in a blog. Good thing she doesn’t know what a blog is.)

Hoes for Twitter, Cuz the Thirst is SOO REAL

Check it.

So I’m on youtube, being nosy and shit, checkin out videos and I come across this one kid. A smooth lookin’ light skinned jawn making all these videos about random ass shit. And he’s cute. Made me laugh… alright I’ll follow him on twitter.

Give it any time of the day and this nigga has like 30 back to back RTs of shit that these twitter hoes be tweetin him. And sometimes this shit is off the wall. (Excuse my french if you need to.) Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not being a hater. In fact I’d totally twerk a lil sumthin sumthin for his young ass. He’s young and talented, I support it. And so I get it, chicks are swoon, especially with that extra-explicit video of his that i literally cannot watch. I can only imagine the kind of snatch is getting thrown at him on a regular basis…. But the tweets that these chicks send him! OMG! THESE DAMN HOES (Examples).

Oh, he is so fine. He’s the perfect man I’d be too lucky to have him.

Dear simple bitch, you don’t know this nigga from a hole in the wall. You’d be lucky to have him? Thats not to say he’s not he’s not a nice guy, but if you think you’re lucky enough to have him and never have met him or anything you’re lucky to even be alive. Because you know you mean it.

SIDENOTE: Then I have those friends of mine who tell me that Im being harsh and that these girls don’t mean it. Soo….  I mean… are they ho’in for attention and twitter?

SIDENOTE: And what about those thirsty ass hoes that saved the niggas picture as their back ground and are steady  “@” him all day? When will this stop?

Sadly this is only one of many examples of how ho’n for twitter works. You can find ho’n in peoples twitter avi, in the twitpics, instagram and just plain ol thirsty ass tweets.Why are we doing this? Why?

You are a woman (or in some cases, a man) telling the world that you are simple as hell tweeting all the corny shit you tweet. Stop it. Just stop.

And I’m not mad, im just sayin….

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