I have a 2 foot radius around my body that I call my space.

Not the website.

My space.

This area belongs to me.  There are very few people allowed inside of this space.  If you step in without being invited in, you can expect one of three things:

  1. Me stepping way back.
  2. Me looking at you like you’ve lost your mind.
  3. Me foot in your gittles.

But seriously, Kim and I were just talking about this subject this past weekend.  What is with men who think they are so sexy that they are just invited into your space to be however sexually aggressive they want to be?

Ew dude.

Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

Here in the last 20 pounds lost or so, I’ve had to learn how to deal with sexually aggressive/inappropriate men more than ever.  (This is what skinny bizzles have dealt with all these years?)  Let me give you some examples of their brazen, nasty behavior.

Now granted, according to my friends, I totally give off the urban vibe with my sense of style, loads of jewelry, head scarves, and raspberry patchouli perfume.  Because several of my much thinner friends have told me that things like what I’m about to tell you have never happened to them.

1.  It’s no secret.  I think black men are hot.  Perhaps it is because I receive so much attention from them.  (Thank you boys for your love of the thick woman.)  Boris Kodjoe, Shemar Moore, Tyrese, Taye Diggs.  Meoooooooooooooow.  Anyway, recently I stopped eating peanut butter.  Not because it’s bad, but just because I can’t eat it in moderation.  One day for shits and giggles I tallied up how much I had eaten with a spoon.  It was over 1/2 cup.  Ouch. 

Anyway, an acquaintance heard me talking about it, and he asked why I would stop eating such a great thing.  I told him it’s because I can’t control myself.  So he asked if I had ever tried “chocolate” with my peanut butter.  (He’s black.)  Only he kept on with it and on with it and on with it.  He must have said “chocolate” 100 times. 

Please.  Trust me dude, you don’t have anything that would ever compare to a Reese Cup.  So get over yourself.

2.  I went into a Mexican restaurant to get some take-out.  It’s the place I used to frequent with my ex.  I was greeted by this tiny little Hispano at the cash register.  This little dude was about the size of Speedy Gonzalez.  I could have fit him in my purse.  So he says, “Where is your husband?”  I told him we had split up over a year ago.  He said, “So now I can have a chance?”  I looked at him with a straight face and said, “No, you never had a chance.”  Luckily even though I am rude, he has a sense of humor.  Anyway, as I was leaving he said “I have something for you, and I promise you’re gonna like it.”

Please.  I’m not into Vienna Sausage.

3.  I was in line at the liquor store, buying a bottle of vodka for a friend’s party.  As I was paying, a young husky black man walked up behind me and said “You headed home with that Svedka?”  I turned around, smiled, and said “Yes.”  He stepped right into my face and said “Well why don’t you take me with you?”

Reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeally?

I am not very good at responding in these types of situations.  Sometimes I load on the sarcasm.  Sometimes I get mean.  Sometimes I just get nervous and start sweating.

My Friend thinks it is hilarious to watch me blush and stammer.  He practically rolls on the floor laughing when I pout about it.  But he says that I really need to let go of my anger and aggression toward men.  Which honestly I have had for as long as I can remember.  Anytime a man approaches me in that Rico Suave sort of way, I almost immediately adopt a martial arts stance.

And I have had to dig deep to discover why.

Throughout this journey I have had to unearth terrible truths about myself, including how I could possibly have justified gaining 120 pounds in less than 2 years.

The truth is about to come out, people.  And it is going to set me free.  Well, free-er.

Stay tuned.