Make a Valentine's Wish

In celebration of #Valentines day, I thought I'd share an image I occasionally like to stare at for inspiration...for hope.   

This is my dream #wedding train. 

I want my sistas (friends, family, sisterhood) to be dressed just like so and to look as fierce and ethereal as these ladies on my wedding day. The dress code will be exactly the same too - white - to celebrate my "glorious" event - the day Anita Writes decides to be conventional and get hitched! And we would all pose for a photo, strong fierce stare (no pouts or cutesy poses) that will capture the feisty evocative allure of strong beautiful black women. 

As a young girl I never daydreamed of my wedding, my wedding dress or even the wedding location. All I knew was that I wanted Love. I wanted to be in love and I wanted him to love me just as much. As long as this love was overwhelmingly present, I was good. I was in a good place. I assumed that was all that was needed. 

So this Valentine's I want to put my dream on paper and send it out into the atmosphere - this here's my vision board. I recommend this for everyone too, anyone who finds themselves on Valentine's surrounded, almost being choked by love from the couples around them. Stop, breath and hope for love, put that dream on paper and watch it manifest. Surely some day that love will find you. 

In addition to #Love, I want my Sista crew to look awesome, nicely clad and as ferociously focused as these ladies - Beyonce inclusive. 😗

I particularly like the young lady with the blue shoes 😜😜

Someone I Used To Know

Every once in awhile, we meet people and we get to know this person but then something happens that makes you realize this is not really the person I've known and seemingly grown to love...this is a different cat.

How do we adjust to that? Accept that?

We seek God's face.

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I took this picture on February 11, 2016. Sent it to my friend (and then lover) as a joke, to start a refreshing conversation. I rarely eat pizza. I can't stand cheese and it tastes very raw and spongey to my tongue. When I do eat pizza the few times that I have, I often eat flatbread pizza. It has minimal cheese and more toppings, especially the meat-lovers toppings that mask the doughy taste of the cheese with the bread.

When I sent this picture to my friend, unbeknownst to me he was dating this petite fitness obsessed adrenaline junkie at the time. Some young lady who probably doesn't know what size 40 hips feel like in her entire life. He was on this health kick so the mere sight of me eating flat bread pizza for the first time since eating it with him (sadly in his car) about a year ago seemed like an abomination. He (like all my notes and emails once he was tuned into this new "movement,") rebuffed my lunch foodie #selfie, asking me to instead "eat a lot healthier."

Surprisingly, at that time I was at my skinniest in Naija. I was on 2 diet pills and a 2-week cleanse so I was skinnier than I've ever been since being back. But his rebuff, his disdain, his choice of all things skinny mini made me feel fatter and less appreciated than I do now. Now. At my heaviest in 8 years.

I've never been skinny. I don't remember not having hips. The slimmest my hips have ever been was a size 38 (Wow, where are those hips when you need 'em?) I may never be without hips, curves, a pudgy belly. Neither will I ever have the narrow kind of frame where everything stands straight and boxy, less feminine. Or have the legs, the thighs that are just there without jiggle, supple and never meet. I don't know what those are. I see them, but I don't know what it feels like to have 'em. I'm working on building thighs with contours. The Serena (Williams) kind. Plus, the arse too! 😳

But for now ... now, it's diet (pills), some juices, a lot of cleanses and some exercise for me. And embracing...loving...appreciating the woman I am at my age. Not caring at this stage in my life if am anyone's "spec" or not. I just wish they would have told me that I was not their spec. It would have helped. Saved me a lot of time too. 

When they make you feel less...how do you punish them? How do you punish yourself for letting it happen, for letting that abuse come disguised as love?

You seek God's face...