Lady in WAITING

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

This blog took an entirely different turn when I listened to this number. I never knew the lyrics were about me and Zawji. *sigh*

But anyway…

As-Salaamu ‘Alaikum Ma Sweet Babies!!!

My Sweet Zawji had to have me come all the way down South to the Bayou to teach me how to finally be a Lady. It’s so funny because I’ve always been associated with the term “Lady.” My rap name in High School (I hated it) was “Lady Rycee” LOL Man, memories… And I’ve always been girlie even though I was tomboyish at times. I was a cheerleader in High School, Drill Team Captain and later known at the club for this pink dress that had ruffles and was very “lady-ish”. I still wear puffed sleeves. And some other stuff I can’t think of now, like making sure my nails were always on point. I think I wrote about it before. Zawji used to call me his “Lady.” (smile)

But, I had to learn how not to hop fences and climb trees and climb out of windows anymore. That was a hard lesson to learn. Being a lady means you have to wait for the gentleman with the key to let you in through the door. And my son didn’t call me “Impatientifah” when my name was Latifah, for nothing. 😛

However, if I were to hop the fence and climb through the window when I lock myself out, I would be depriving my Sweet Zawji of the privilege of coming to my rescue! And deep down ALL men think they’re Superman. LOL So, Sisters, even if he makes you wait to teach you a lesson in competence, don’t be fooled. He really enjoys playing the hero.

You would think not climbing through windows at 45 would be common sense, but this was an extremely hard lesson for the kid. I’ve never needed a man for stuff I felt I could easily do myself like opening doors, changing light bulbs, opening jars, getting stuff down off of high shelves, carrying luggage, &c. I’ve always been able to “make it do what it do.” But I have to be a lady now and let Zawji do those things for us.

But trust and believe me when I tell you, Zawji had to have me sit outside ALL NIGHT LONG AND HALF THE NEXT DAY to teach my hard head how to be a real LADY. I still feel humbled just thinking about the ordeal. He knew I could have hopped the fence at any time. But deep down I WANT TO BE A LADY. So, I sat there and counted the stars and gazed at the moon and the beautiful sunrise and then watched everybody on their way to work. It was lunchtime before somebody FINALLY came and unlocked the door. Lesson Learned.

If I thought I was going to starve or something, I still KNOW HOW to hop the fence if my or our children’s life depended on it, which is why the M.G.T. (women and girls in the Nation of Islam) wear the pants-skirt. Just in case of an emergency, we are never caught unprepared. After all, we live under the shadow of death in America, so we have to be practical.

But to be honest, I just don’t feel right hopping fences anymore. I feel silly. Like I’m too old or something. Even though health-wise, I feel better than I did when I was sixteen and hopping a fence is just as easy. It’s mental. I don’t feel right anymore.

I think staying out all night had that added affect.

Like it changed my biological make-up or something hormonal probably.

In any case, it works out best for the both of us. The more ladylike I am, the more gentlemanly HE CAN BE. Men are created physically and mentally superior for a reason. Sisters, let’s humble ourselves and let them exercise and utilize all that strength. Why should we struggle with things that come so easily for them? Let’s be ladies and let them be gentlemen. It makes so much sense.


(She should have said, “You know a lot about sports, but you don’t know much about BOYS!”)


(Sometimes, a lady takes the blame for the Brothers. Authority figures usually go easier on girls. A girl around boys makes stuff happen too. “…The score is One Love… ❤ “)

I admit, we have a history much different from other women of earth, which makes being ladylike more difficult for us because we were so far removed from being ladies due to our history of slavery where we were forced to work just as hard as any man. Let’s kill that “strong Black woman” idea and be weak and dependent on our men like the devil woman is, or used to be, on her man back in the days of lace gloves and parasols. I mean really, what woman doesn’t want to be pampered, catered to and treated like royalty?

Let’s fawn over our men and let them floss their masculinity. It makes them feel macho. Especially when you say stuff like, “Oh my! I’ll never be able to open this jar. You’re such a big, strong, powerful Blackman. Could you open it for me, please?” and bat your eyelashes at him. LOL They LOVE that. I’ve never had a man refuse me ANYTHING when I ask like that. I’ve had Brothers carry furniture, luggage, groceries and anything else I need for BLOCKS!!! And I love dripping syrupy compliments all over them while we walk. 😉 They get to flex their muscles and we get to show them how much we love and appreciate the most physically, mentally and intellectually Supreme Being in the Universe – The Asiatic Blackman.

Don’t forget to THANK him profusely!!!

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