بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

(Hey ‘Nita 😉 )

So, my parents used to go on vacation every Summer. They would take my little brother, but never me. Probably just to make me feel left out. BITCHES.

So, my sister was in college and I had the house pretty much to myself. Which was cool with me.

My “Best Friends” (They had a rap group which they let me join – “FINESSE” – That’s tight, huh? Sounds French 😉 Hey Habibi ❤ Two of us made a demo, but fought over the tape with our manager and nothing ever became of it. Hey J, E, all we had to do was make copies. Duh. :/ )

Anyway, they worked at Sbarro’s in The Beverly Center, so naturally, I started working there too.

(Greatest Human Beat Box Of All Time #5thelement #RIP)


Both of my groupmates were from the East Coast, where Hip-Hop originated, but one was from NYC and she could freestyle. She would battle the boys AND WIN! I was über impressed.

To give you another example of her skill. We would be at work reciting the lyrics to “Romeo” or some other contemporary rap, and she would go and help a customer and come back and still be in the right part of the song! Her last name was Best. And she was the.

We used to practice and it was hella fun writing rhymes. I hated my rap name though. It had “Lady” in it. I’m not going to say it. #hatedit

Anyway, the first and only rap I ever wrote for just myself was about my Habibi. I gave him a copy but lost mine. I remember the first line, “I Know this Cold-Crush guy. His name’s A.J…..I talked about how he was “debonair” and all that. But you’ll have to ask him the rest.

So, one day, when my parents were out of town and I had a job at Sbarro’s (Suh-BAR-rows), me and my Hubby were sitting on the Love Seat, listening to Stephanie Mills “feel good all over.” I hated that song too. :/

People used to talk bad about me. For instance, I used to wear braids and one time I really needed to take them out. I was maybe fourteen and still dependent on my mother for that type of thing. It never occurred to me to just take them out. Probably because I would be stuck with the dilemma, all Black women who are trying to be white, are stuck with. How to straighten my hair. :/

But my Hubby makes me feel good all over. Whereas other men I dated (or married :/ ) made me feel self-conscious and “less than,” my Hubby made me feel good about everything about my natural self.

He made it okay to have kinky hair. So, now I feel like I’m beautiful, with my front tooth turning black. LOL (Stay OUT the dentists’ chair. He fucked me up.) It’s what’s on the inside that counts. But try telling that to these Brothers hawking and gawking……

I dated a man for almost fifteen years who made me feel like horseshit. He would say, “There’s only five pounds between fat and fine.” And here I am weighing 125 – the perfect weight for a woman according to Allah (God) – feeling inadequate because of this abusive man.

I had always had high self-esteem in the professional, physical and intellectual fields, but when it came to LOVE, I was terribly insecure. I took abuse and it never occurred to me there was something better.

I never noticed I was being abused until I accepted ISLAM. Then, and only then, I realized what TRUE LOVE IS…… And that I had once had it……..

So, I’m with my Habibi, feeling good all over and it’s the BEST feeling I’ve ever felt, I just wasn’t aware of it. But, I knew I didn’t want the magic to end, so when the time came for me to go to work, I had an attitude. And my mother used to always fuss at me when I got an attitude about something. “Stop poking your lip out!” I didn’t even know I was doing it.

But my Habibi, would just make me laugh and everything was alright with the world again.  Next thing I know, we’re walking down La Cienega on our way to the Mall. But I wished we were on our way walking back home……



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