Sick of Lemonade

When life keeps giving you lemons...I mean, how about an occasional lime so that I can make margaritas or mojitos?

I recently had another BIG Busy Black Woman meltdown over a slight that I could have overlooked, but chose otherwise. The details are unimportant, but let's just say that the Hub will might think twice before forgetting to text me the full details of one of his half-baked, last minute plans involving the Babe.

Yet, the real reason for my meltdown was not the Hub's sin of omission, but the postlude to time spent with my mother. We had such a good start to the day that I was lulled into a false sense of satisfaction, then shit went awry. Add to that the fact that I was hangry and probably operating on maybe four hours of sleep...so yeah, I unleashed a category 5 Busy Black Woman Hurricane.

So just know that there are days when I am not hearing the life and lemons speech because I have had enough lemonade. I am too through with trying to make the best of a fucked up situation. I am not feeling any motivational memes or biblical truths about adversity making me stronger or hardships setting me up for something greater. Screw that.

Sometimes when I catch myself wondering whether this is all really happening, and then reality bites to prove that yes, this shit is real, I fantasize about the Glamorous Life. You know, that blissful, unapologetic existence of perpetual self-involvement. The freedom from guilt or anxiety for choosing to do for myself instead of everyone else.

I get it though...I invented this persona, gave it a name, and have proven time and again that I really do have superpowers. It is the ability to handle everything even though there are plenty of other able-bodied and of-sound-mind folks in the vicinity.

Besides, you would not be reading this if I were a Busy Black Man (unicorn).