Thursday, June 23, 2005
The summer makes you shallow
Honestly, it really does.
Ever since I have been on my fitness kick I have embraced the fact that I have become a bit more contingent of phyiscal appearances.
I don't think that I am the end all be all of young black women everywhere, but I have a right to decide that I am not settling for the potbelly, husky fellows of yesteryear.
With this great observation I have devised the categories of which my brothas are falling into. I notice that men have slacked on "the keeping of the appearances", but I refuse to let "Jamal and His Colt 45 belly" enter into the heavenly gates known as, Thou Sugar Walls.
Ladies and Gentlemen I present to you...
Category A: "The I played Football in High School" Guy
This guy calls himself athletic because he still talks about the great game between him and some random ass high school back in 98'. What he isn't understanding is that his last memory of actually running out on someone's field was close to a decade ago and if he tried again he'd fall and break his neck.
Category B: "The all my Fat is Muscle, Girl!" Guy
Those rolls of fat on your hip are not extended hip muscles. That is just a collection of cellulite and cholesterol building in your system. When I squeeze it I don't feel "power", I feel Popeyes, KFC, and Church's Fried Chicken.
Category C: "The man that still wears tight ass shirts for no apparent reason what so ever" Guy
Yall know that guy. Apparently he considers himself mad fly. Yet and still, he an embarrassment to human kind. I dated a guy like this once. When I was 17, thinking I was grown and self-sufficient, I dated a male stripper from Watts Club Mozambique in Detroit. He had all the things going on that were hot in the day, light skinnededed, curly hurr, and was milking the "Ginufine Baby Hurr" look like he was Elgin Lumpkin's freakin' body double. He was a cross between a Kappa and a walking Texturizer commercial seen during Soul Train episodes.
What was I thinking at this point? I had no idea.
Either way he wore the tight shirt. The tightest shirt ever. We went on a date in Greektown to a spot called Fishbones.
He was sweating while eating and managed to be recongized by several big and beautiful black women as Sexy Diamond.
I pretty much was done with him.
Category D: The nigga that wears 5 T-Shirts to accommodate his skinny ass self
Boy. Eat some dumpling smothered in butter and gravy please. With a side of pork fat because that body will break by the blow of a subway system air tunnel.
Summer.
Makes me shallow. ¶ 12:11 PM
Ever since I have been on my fitness kick I have embraced the fact that I have become a bit more contingent of phyiscal appearances.
I don't think that I am the end all be all of young black women everywhere, but I have a right to decide that I am not settling for the potbelly, husky fellows of yesteryear.
With this great observation I have devised the categories of which my brothas are falling into. I notice that men have slacked on "the keeping of the appearances", but I refuse to let "Jamal and His Colt 45 belly" enter into the heavenly gates known as, Thou Sugar Walls.
Ladies and Gentlemen I present to you...
Category A: "The I played Football in High School" Guy
This guy calls himself athletic because he still talks about the great game between him and some random ass high school back in 98'. What he isn't understanding is that his last memory of actually running out on someone's field was close to a decade ago and if he tried again he'd fall and break his neck.
Category B: "The all my Fat is Muscle, Girl!" Guy
Those rolls of fat on your hip are not extended hip muscles. That is just a collection of cellulite and cholesterol building in your system. When I squeeze it I don't feel "power", I feel Popeyes, KFC, and Church's Fried Chicken.
Category C: "The man that still wears tight ass shirts for no apparent reason what so ever" Guy
Yall know that guy. Apparently he considers himself mad fly. Yet and still, he an embarrassment to human kind. I dated a guy like this once. When I was 17, thinking I was grown and self-sufficient, I dated a male stripper from Watts Club Mozambique in Detroit. He had all the things going on that were hot in the day, light skinnededed, curly hurr, and was milking the "Ginufine Baby Hurr" look like he was Elgin Lumpkin's freakin' body double. He was a cross between a Kappa and a walking Texturizer commercial seen during Soul Train episodes.
What was I thinking at this point? I had no idea.
Either way he wore the tight shirt. The tightest shirt ever. We went on a date in Greektown to a spot called Fishbones.
He was sweating while eating and managed to be recongized by several big and beautiful black women as Sexy Diamond.
I pretty much was done with him.
Category D: The nigga that wears 5 T-Shirts to accommodate his skinny ass self
Boy. Eat some dumpling smothered in butter and gravy please. With a side of pork fat because that body will break by the blow of a subway system air tunnel.
Summer.
Makes me shallow. ¶ 12:11 PM
