Tag Archives: sidewalk

The lady doth protest much


Driving back to the office after lunch and I pass some protesters outside of the SeaWorld entrance… The weird thing is that they’re not your typical angry protesters, they’re WAVING at all the cars, like Wal-Mart greeters.

Isn’t that odd?!? Aren’t they supposed to be waving fists or holding clumps of dead fish or something?

And why hasn’t someone told them it’s too hot today for that??? #justsayin

My Big Girl Panties


Ever heard the phrase “Put on your Big Girl panties and deal with it”?

The other day, I was sitting on the porch in my rocking chair when I saw an old no-longer-friend-but-still-awkward-neighbor and his wife taking a leisurely evening stroll down the street. To avoid a weird moment of awkwardness I jumped out of my rocking chair like my butt was on fire and made a mad dash into the house. I literally left the rocking chair rocking.

Not my finest moment.

What’s ironic is that this artful dodging came immediately after a long chat with my roommate (on the same afternoon, SAME PORCH!!) about how important it is to meet confrontation head on. What’s more ironic is that a day or so before this I’d rather snippily told a whiny co-worker to hitch up her own underpants and get it together. It’s only fitting that I be reminded of my self-righteous words while running into the house like a bat out of hell.

I am such a wuss when it comes to confrontation. Why is the thought of it so scary? Part of me thinks it’s because I don’t like disappointing people or letting them down. There’s also the OCD part of me that has a fear of losing control and screaming like a shrew until a vein pops in my forehead and I’ll turn into the incredible hulk, shredding both my dignity and any big girl panties I might have been wearing at the time.

Part of it too is that I feel the need to distance myself from the Big Angry Black Woman Stereotype. So I pay more attention than the average person to make sure I bottle up my frustrations. Everybody gets mad sometimes… why do Black Women have this persona associated with being mad? I was in Ross the other day (don’t judge) and this little old lady bumped into me while perusing the racks… before I could utter a word she jumped back and apologized to me profusely and was literally shaking as she scurried away, glancing back at me. I barely had a moment to acknowledge her presence, certainly not enough time to ┬ádeliver the pimp-slap the she seemed to expect from me.

Hmph. Maybe I should’ve have yelled “bitch betta check herself!” at her retreating backside. I’m sure it didn’t help matters any. LOL

These days I tend to weigh arguments in terms of whether it’s worth the stress or bother, if I can live with it or not. I can’t remember a time when people didn’t tell me that I get worked up over nothing and should learn to “let stuff go”. Between feelings of self-doubt and repeatedly hearing the criticism so much, I think it prevents me from fighting the battles worth fighting… like when a jerk cuts in front of me in line at the Staples (really? a grown ass man? is buying a pack of pens THAT important? didn’t your momma teach you better?). Or when a tourist runs over my ankle with a double stroller while getting on the boat to the Magic Kingdom, and tells ME to watch where I’M stepping…

In my mind there’s an Ally McBeal-like flashback going on in the Staples, where I grab Mr. Line Jumper and go Angry Black Woman/Towanda on him. After snapping all of his pens in half, I punch him in the throat.

In reality I just sigh quietly and roll my eyes and hope that the clerk notices.

Either way, it looks like I need to buy a new pair of big girl pants. I saw some from the Delta Burke line on sale at the Ross. ­čÖé