30 somethings PSA

There are times in life where you need to know the truth. Unfortunately, I think it’s time for a little public service announcement. This is going to hurt a few of you, but because the girly loves you I must tell you. So prepare yourself. It may change the way you look at everything. I hope you understand I must do this. Here goes…30 IS NOT THE NEW 20. Wait don’t pass out. I know, I know you thought you would be able to wear those short shorts and stay up late and still look refreshed because somehow turning 30 meant you were 20 in your head, but you’re really 30 and oh my goodness you look a mess. I’m sorry to be the one to break it to you but you need to take yourself to bed; don’t you have to work in the morning? Yes guys and gals you have hit the mark of the big 3-0 (and beyond). I know you think by some stretch of the imagination you can go back in time and make life different by giving yourself 10 extra years. We hear it every day. They say, “ Yes, girl, you look good for 30, you know 30 is the new 20?” And to our poor guys, “Yeah fellas, 30 ain’t nothing, lets hit these streets, don’t you know it’s the new 20?” They have gone as far as…wait who is “they”? Ever notice people say that when they never heard a specific person say something? I digress. “They” have gone as far as say 30 is the new 20, 40 is the new 30 and so on. Makes me wonder; is death is the new 80?

Why do we want to be something we aren’t? Listen 30-somethings, you must band together and unite before it’s too late! We have lived and learned thru those 20 somethings and made all the mistakes some 20 somethings make. Let’s “turn down”. For what, you say? Because you’re older. Yep, I said it. Chill mode time has come. Why go back and act like a 20 year old when you know with your grown self that you need to pull yourself up by the boot straps and be an adult?

Just to help soften the blow, I have compiled a list of 5 not so scientific reasons to prove to you that 30 is not the new 20 and you are actually 30 years old, say it with me “thiiiirty”. Good job. Just except it and be happy.

#1 You can’t eat fries at 2 am anymore without heartburn or it sticking to your thighs the next morning.
#2 You start referring to rude 20 somethings as young punks.
#3 You start to think it’s not cute anymore to live off mommy and daddy’s money.
#4 When someone says “yes mam/sir” you actually appreciate it.
#5 It’s Friday at 9:30 pm and you are in your jammies (pajamas) and actually nodding off.

Simply stated 30 is not the new 20. It’s ok, everyone will have to deal with it someday. So embrace your 30’s don’t act as if it is a curse to get older. Be thankful you have had that many years on earth. Love your tiny laugh lines, it means you have seen a lot of happy days. Love that strand of grey hair you have, it makes you look distinguished. Love the little stubborn pudge you can’t seem to work off no matter how many crunches you do, it means you’re blessed to have food everyday… or you’re still eating fries at 2 am. 🙂

No 20 somethings were harmed in the making of this post 🙂

Bosom Buddies

Fall 1998, Georgia Southern University Winburn Hall. As time goes on the specifics get a little hazy, but if I don’t remember anything else I remember the pink blow up chair. When she came in seems like no one else sat there it was her spot. She was the oldest and the “mama” of the group so we respected her as such. She would sometimes come in on a Saturday climb up to the cabinet to get a snack and go back to bed. And there was never a need to knock. She was known around campus as the girl with the big booty and I became known as “you know her short friend with the short haircut, yeah the bow legged one” We along with the rest of the cavalry, yes we named our little circle, were inseparable. She protected me as a mother would protect a child and in turn I loved her unconditionally as only a child could. She could do no wrong in my eyes. I was amazed at her intelligence, the way she wrote papers at 2 am while the rest of us were laughing, watching TV and jumping around on those twin size beds. She was one of the smartest women I knew, but in turn the most humble you could ever imagine. She was liked by all well except that girl who fell down the steps. But even she had to admit my friend was a force to be reckoned with. Through mean teachers, good and bad grades, kick doors, study groups, hunch punch, Sunday dinners, boyfriends, broken hearts family emergencies and those situations that the cavalry will never ever speak of, NEVER, she was always there for me. Before I knew it, I was graduating college and again she was in my corner teary eyed holding the video camera screaming my praises. She was so proud. After all we had lived thru some of the best and worst times of our lives, so we thought. So, years later when she called me as I drove thru Sandhills, a shopping center near my home, I had to stop and sit at the stop sign as she began to tell me she had something that felt like golf balls in her breast. She had braids at the time and immediately shaved them off. No, she didn’t know if she had cancer, but in true form she did things on her terms. So if it was cancer she would not let the treatment take her hair, she took it herself. Then the day came. That day I remember more vividly than I want. Was sitting at my desk working then she crossed my mind. I texted her because I knew it should be about time for her to be done with her doctor’s appointment. She texted me back. And it was what I prayed against. The one thing I never wanted to hear about someone I loved again. She had breast cancer. But she had just crossed over into the 30’s the time when you live the good life because you learned from all the mistakes you made in your 20′ right?? How could this have happened? You see, I lost my grandmother to cancer as a teenager and it hurt me to my core. Now, my friend, my confidant, my protector was sick and there was nothing I could do about it. I jumped up from my desk and quickly ran into a conference room before anyone could see the tears pour from my eyes. I could barely breathe.
The day had come for my friend to have her breast removed another brave decision she made. My friend had a very young daughter at the time; she did not want to run the risk of the cancer coming back. Seems to me she already knew that she would beat it then. In order for it to come back it would have to be gone first. She had claimed her victory and didn’t even know it. The “little sis” and I went to be by her side, with the “nephew” in tow. I ended up staying the night in the hospital, I just couldn’t leave her. It was like we were in Winburn Hall again. But then as I looked at her, the IV’s, and all the flashing lights on those monitors and I quickly realized, this is real. I had to hold back my tears. I would not break down in front of the very person who had always been so strong for me. As I reached down to pick up the wash cloth she dropped while bathing she said, “nope I got it” and proceeded to pick it up with her toes! At that moment I knew my friend would definitely make it. One simple gesture that made us laugh and forget the bandages that were in the place where her breast used to be. That night we laughed and laughed and laughed. I have no idea when we eventually drifted off to sleep.
It’s 2013 now and my friend has 3 beautiful girls. She is as bold, intelligent, daring, humble, loving and strong as ever. She is my hero. She is one of my best friends, more of a sister. My friend, my sister, my Donna is cancer free.
To God be the Glory 🙂

This post is dedicated to my friend LaDonna Peeples breast cancer survivor!

To Donna: Donna I love you more than words can say. Over the years, over the miles our hearts have stayed connected because we have built a bond that can not be broken. God put you in my life to show me how to have faith when you have no control over the situation. Because of you I still believe in miracles. You are my miracle. Love you always and forever.

Beaten and Snatched?!?!

I just got beat.
Oh my gosh, have you called the police already? 
Huh? No. I got beat by the girl at the make up counter.
Whaaaa? Why is the girl at the make up counter beating you.
Doesn’t my face look fabulous? I am beat and oh ain’t I snatched.
Wait honey you  got beat and snatched and you are happy about it?Ok, I may get a few eye rolls on this one, but you’ll still love me. Lately this “slang” stuff is getting way out of hand. And I know you are saying oh it’s not that serious, it’s just slang and lighten up. Trust me, I like a good slang word or phrase just like the next person. For example, everyones favorite, “turn up!!”, “giving me life”, “you tried it” or “yaaaaassssss hunty”. They are all hilarious and can instantly conjure up a smile. BUT our words have power and I don’t think many people realize that. Ladies listen to how this sounds BEAT and SNATCHED. Say it to yourself BEAT AND SNATCHED. BEAT AND SNATCHED.  BEAT AND SNATCHED. What picture comes up in your head when you hear those words? Nothing? Well, all I can see is a crying woman running for the door, fleeing her abuser, grabbing the door knob and him grabbing her arm and snatching her back to continue to “beat her to the gods”. That’s another one that we need to stop saying.  Who wants to refer to themselves as being beaten as an synonym for your face being full of beautiful make up and having a nice shape? Do you know that, according to The State (South Carolina’s State Newspaper), South Carolina is rated second worst in the nation in women killed by men. That’s a lot of beating and snatching right? The fact that women actually have to cover their bruises with make up and hide behind fake smiles after they have been “beaten and snatched” is more of a reason to bury those terms. In the bible … Wait I know someone is saying, “Is she really about to throw a scripture on us?” Yaaaaassssss hunty, I am because the Girly loves God ;). Anywho, the bible says death and life are in the power of the tongue. Always choose to speak life. There will be a wake for the slang term “beat and snatched” at 5pm. After that they will be buried in the slang term cemetary on Never Use Again Road, no repass will follow.