Well..(sigh) it has happened y'all.
Finally.
After all those times I laughed at Halle Berry when US magazine caught her coming out of her pool from the backside...
or when People Magazine caught Beyonce at a bad angle on the beach squatting down..
or when Pamela Anderson lifted up her skirt a little...
...it's finally my turn.
Looking in my bathroom mirror...to me, I look great. Not a thing wrong.
Sure, the bottom half could use some trimming, but everything is OK as long as I can fit into my Rock and Republics.
Mos def good for initial "underwear" presentation at least.
But then, I wore this skirt.
It's A-line, seersucker, very flowy...feminine ...sexy.
AND, there just happens to be a full length mirror in the bathroom at work. So hey.
Nobody is in the bathroom with me. Why not?
I lift up.
Wholly SHIT! WHAT THE FUCK IS...
..is that...(gasp and clutch the pearls)CELLULITE?!!
Ladies and gentlemen... life, or rather, youth, as I know it...is over. Officially.
Men don't seem to understand this and that is yet another reason why I'm hating. (Add it on to the "no biological clock" and "no saggy breasts" list.)
Anyway, what I see ain't cute. And the thing is...I KNEW it was coming.
About six months ago, I put my digital camera on "timer", and snapped a photo of myself from the backside.
(Not for internet use, nasty.)
It was a "before" photo. However, my "before" got sidetracked on the road to "after", and the next thing I knew, I'd missed a few weeks of step class, and my thighs were touching.
Anyway, I'd seen the bulge. A slight one. Nothing to be alarmed about. Just a tiny ripple in the thigh, caused by laying up, over eating and sitting on my ass all day at work. Easily fixed.
But I didn't fix it...and now, it's def con five.
The ripple has spread to my butt. Not too far down the legs, but far enough to make me haul my rippled ass to the gym.
PUN INTENDED.
So then, I began to wonder.
If I'M trying to get rid of these five-ten pounds of blubber that make me feel like bubble-wrap, what's Monique doing?
Yes. The comedienne Monique. I mean, if I've got it, I KNOW she's packin vacuumed packed peanuts in her thighs. But she could give a damn.
So what gives? Why do women (at least those of us who care) continuously bust our ass for smooth thighs, long, luxurious hair, and a six pack abs....when, most likely, the person that loves you could give a shit?
Really.
I've never heard, "Wow baby. I love you so much...and I really want to make love to you. But you need lipo. Today. Right now."
..ever.
But the point is... I CARE. I don't want to walk about looking like I'm smuggling marbles in my legs. And you know what? Men should give a damn too.
Have you ever heard a woman say, "I'm dumping my boyfriend because of his a)gut b)hairy ass c)tendency not to wash his ass (let's just assume anything having to do with a man's ass not being proper is grounds for dismissal.) d)pigeon toes e)dead skin on his thumb that he keeps biting...and that's why I think it's time to get rid of the double standard.
If we, as women want to compare ourselves to the Halle's, Beyonces and Pam Andersons of the world...then damn it. Let's give the men something to aim for.
(And gay men don't count. They keep it together for each other...and God bless you for it.)
I'm talking about straight men.
I'm talking about holding them to a higher standard.
The Harvey Standard.
If you don't know Harvey Walden...he's the fit coach featured on VH-1's "Celebrity Fit Club." An ex-Marine (ooooh....), big, black and fine as hell with a heart of gold. This dude even made Da Brat dress up in some heels, show some cleavage and strut down a runway. Blushing. Yeah...it's like that.
He's not all angry black man though. Harvey has heart. A lot of it.
Even for that really gay Ross kid from Leno, who he turned into a gay dime in 90 days. And he did it...not by yelling. But because the cast respected him. Hell...he got Warren G. over his fear of heights. Gangsta.
I mean, let's keep it real.
I'm not a fan of VH-1 Celebreality garbage, but for some reason, I stayed glued to fit club. Not because I wanted to see if Marsha Brady lost more weight...but just to hear Harvey say, "Ok. Step on the scale."
Ooooh. Okay Haaaarvey.
This season, he almost kicked Screech's ass...and I almost slid out of my chair.
The Harvey Standard.
You'll meet very few men who meet this standard, but when you do, you'll know it.
And the first thing you'll notice...is the body language. Upright. Manly. Confident.
The second thing you'll notice...they're not chasing every twat in the room. They have self control and respect.
Third thing you'll notice...manners. Real manners. Not "I just learned them today" manners. Door holding. Cab hailing. (I know. But they get one eventually.)
Finally....you'll notice, the shoes and the watch. (I'm sorry. Shoes and a watch say a LOT about a man. A LOT.)
There's more, but you get the point. If you ever find yourself in a situation where shit doesn't seem right, ask yourself WWHD?
That's right. What Would Harvey Do?
And it's not a co-winkie-dink that Harvey happens to be an ex-Marine.
I have NEVER met an ex-Marine that didn't meet the grade. Not ever.
Gotta go. Gotta hit the gym, get my toes done, eyebrows done, lip waxed...(the 30's are REAL)...and do some maintenance. Not for anyone but me.
If you do the same...do the damn thing girl.
And if you're a guy who hasn't seen a gym since High School... get scared.
I'm starting a revolution fellas. You betta get right.
(Now if I could only get my old tits back. HEAVY SIGH...)
-Nye
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