bad mommi pics

bad mommi pics


Happy Holidays! Im Not Ugly!!!

On this post Hanukkah, days after Christmas, first days of Kwanzaa, pre New Year's lull I wanted to continue in the gift giving spirit and pass along the gift that just keeps on giving: I am letting you know that I am no longer ugly.  This gift may seem selfish and self-serving but trust me, dear readers, this gift is as precious as gold.  For those of you who know me and speak to me on a daily basis, this gift saves you constant eye-rolling, teeth sucking and exasperated sighing as I am now promising to no longer berate myself hourly or practice in self-deprecating humor in front of you (See?! Aren't you excited?!) Plainly put, you now have permission to kick me in the ass if my ugliness rears its nasty head ever again.

As a person who has been ugly since about the 7th grade I can tell you that procrastination is the enemy of beauty and I am tired of putting it off.  I have been ugly for a good 20 years and side swiping being pretty has not served me in any way, shape or form.  From the time I was 12  up until now being ugly has reeked havoc in every aspect of my life; from relationships with men to the relationship with my son, from finding jobs to finding a career I love, from going out and having a good time to going out and going bat shit insane, being ugly has permeated every branch in the tree of my life and I am sick of it.

We all know that admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery right?  I am admitting that I was ugly to first acknowledge it and recognize that this is what I believed about myself for so long.   I have so forcefully and vehemently internalized the interpretations of my appearance from others that I turned myself into a monster.  Being told you're ugly is one thing but making those words your reality is another.  When Austin Jones (yeah, I said your real name) told me I was ugly and looked like a monkey in 10th grade, I became an ugly monkey in my head.  And when those basketball players at Hampton in 2001 told me they weren't talking to me, they were talking to someone who was actually pretty I internalized ugliness then too.  There have been countless ugly words said and I spent years blaming others when I should have been blaming myself for listening.

Being ugly is sort of like having a rare disease.  It's one of those things where you describe your illness to others but they just don't get it and think you're a hypochondriac because they don't recognize the excruciating pain you're in.  They look at you like, "Cure yourself! Stop being so dramatic," and you're all, "But I don't even know which medications will work to fix this!"  Being ugly becomes who you are, a part of your being; I used it as a shield to ward off life.  In Toni Morrison's bewitching novel The Bluest Eye she says of the Breedlove family, "You looked at them and wondered why they were so ugly; you looked closely and could not find the source.  Then you realized that it came from conviction. It was as though some mysterious all-knowing master had given each one a cloak of ugliness to wear and they had each accepted it without question." I've been a Breedlove cousin for a very long time and the conviction is real; perception is reality and the perception I had of myself was completely out of whack. Then it hit me: instead of hating myself I could just change my perception. It was all in my head and I could be attractive if I thought I was. I've been trying to do the work and it is arduous but it is also necessary awesome sauce. Here are some of the ways I work to be beautiful every day:

I look at Miles
I mean have you seen him?! That is one good looking kid if I do say so myself (and so does everyone else)! But here's the insane part after the recognition that he is insanely handsome: he looks just like me. On the street, he has to constantly use his preteen angst sigh because people walk up to us and exclaim how much we look alike. "They're practically twins!" they exclaim with glee. And I smile and say thank you while he rolls his eyes. But what I realized is that if he looks like me and he is beautiful then I must be beautiful too! Go figure!?! Who knew you could give birth to your own little self esteem boost!? Even if you don't have kids look at all the people in your own family who you think are just the bee knees and recognize that at least a little part of them is in you. Hell, if I could make a cute little asshole I'm sure there are some relative pretty pains in your asses who reflect your ultimate beauty as well.

I say goodbye
To douche bags. Period. This one is hard for me because I have an affinity for douche bags. There is a special place in my heart for men who think so highly of themselves that you have to pull their faces out of their asses before you can even have a decent conversation with them. But no more. As soon as I hear any version of the phrase, "See these girls out here need to prove their worth," I am scrambling for high heaven. I don't have to prove shit. All I have to do in this life is stay black, die and before death be completely awesome. My allowance of too many douche bag dudes in my atmosphere with their asinine opinions of what my hair, skin and body should look has hindered me from rocking my awesominity (that's awesome femininity put together, I'm a genius right?!) Get rid of the assholes and find some testosterone (or estrogen) that appreciates your unique "umpfh". And let them bask in your gorgeous glory instead of hiding in some cretin's poisonous shade.
I sing
Or dance. Or paint. Or go shopping. Or write a novel. Basically, I make use of doing a little thing called whatever the fuck I want. In one of my weekly therapy sessions, and yes, I go to therapy and am proud of it, I told my therapist that I wanted to be beautiful all the time I just didn't know how that worked. She, in her awesome psychotherapy genius, told me to start doing the stuff I liked. Focus on your talents, she said. Worry about the gifts that you need to cultivate for yourself and keep practicing them and that feeling of beauty will follow you everywhere because you'll be immersed in the things that make you great. Wow. It's that damn easy. So you mean when I write a blog post and I feel so accomplished for actually finishing and sticking to something that I'm creating beauty? Well damn it! I'm gonna write every day! And sing and dance and paint and teach and get the career I love and keep making Miles awesome and all the while feel better about myself. This completely justifies that 2 hours I spent in my room in my underwear twerking in the mirror.
I do it for the vine
Or better yet I do it for someone else. I'm a people pleaser; I loooooovvvvvee to see others happy. Sometimes when I can't muster up the courage of beauty for myself I try to do it for someone else. Maybe it's for Miles because I want to teach him what self love looks like. Or maybe it's for my friends because I want to show them fun Morgan and not mopey dopey self-loathing Morgan. Or maybe it's for my mom because she never got the chance to truly live it for herself. I found out (through therapy) that part of the reason I have such a hard time with accepting my beauty is because I didn't grow up knowing what being beautiful looked like. My mother, in all her gorgeous chocolaty goodness, had life experiences that taught her she was not pretty so she never really ACTED beautiful. I never knew what it was like to act out a beautiful existence because my mother lived under the false pretenses that she wasn't. When I'm feeling down I remind myself to pick it up for her because if nothing else, her beauty can live through me.
I say I'm beautiful 
Saying is believing. I have a friend who I constantly "remind" how cute and amazing I am and that he should just bow down to my every whim. What he doesn't realize is that when I say it to him I'm actually convincing myself. I made a conscious decision to stop saying I was ugly around him and say something different therefore ugliness has to flee and something different takes its place. I say it in the mirror every day, I repeat it to myself as a mantra when I meditate and I bombard him with it through texts.  When I'm goading him into admitting my attractiveness I'm goading myself into believing it exists. I've actually tricked him into thinking I think I'm beautiful and in turn tricked myself. And don't worry, he'll never figure out my scam because I don't think he's ever read my blog and by the time he starts, I'll be so full of myself it won't even be a slight of hand anymore.
I remind myself that Beyonce has a stylist
I don't know if you knew this but Beyonce has a stylist. I follow him on Instagram. She, in fact, did not wake up like this. Most celebrities have stylists and this makes me feel absolutely amazing when I remind myself and contextualize this fact. Celebrities look perfect ALL THE TIME, even when they're not supposed to look perfect, and this can sometimes leave the rest of us feeling inadequate and homely. But then I remember that it's their JOB to look good and they're just being good at it. For instance, I think I'm a great teacher and when I'm on, I am on: little light bulbs of realization pop on all over the classroom and it's like a learn-a-palooza all up in that room. I'm awesome at my job because I work hard at it and celebrities work hard at theirs. Add to that this thought the fact that I don't have the time in the gym, thousands of dollars, teams of make up and hair stylists, and a bottomless closet but I still look pretty goddamn decent and I'm in self-love euphoria. I look great with no make up on a smile so imagine what I could do with those other kinds of resources? Give Beyonce a run for her money that's what! I'll just let Bey keep her crown and silently rejoice in the fact that I'm beautiful even without all the trappings and if I had them I'd be downright unstoppable (but the good Lord knew you people would probably die of awe so He saw fit to limit my funds for the time being.)

(Disclaimer: I am NOT saying I look better than Beyonce.  So pleeeeaaassse Bey Hive don't go all cyber bully on me.  We all know Beyonce is an alien from an ancient celestial body in another solar system called Planet Pulchritude)

I shut up
Sometimes being beautiful is just as simple as shutting the fuck up. I'll be walking down the street and see a gorgeous woman who looks nothing like me and start spiraling into the, "Oh God, she's sooooo much prettier than me. I bet her life isn't a shit storm like mine because she's so gorgeous." And then I will politely tell my brain to shut as they say the fuck up. Or I'll be on the train all like, "Look at him. He's so fine. He would never ever think of touching me with a ten foot electrified pole. I'm so gross." Then I'll silently give my ego a bitch slap and coyly smile in his direction just to prove a point. Shutting negativity off is a constant battle that I often have to scratch and scream to win. But the great thing is the more I fight, the better of a fighter I become.  Eventually I'll be backhand clotheslining negativity in my sleep.
I treat myself like I'd treat my daughter (and the way I treat my son)
In another stroke of God's infinite wisdom, He saw fit that I give birth to a son instead of a daughter because he knew I would dress a girl up like a toddler in a tiara.  The universe could see the eviction notices on my door because I spent a month's rent on lacy, frilly, tutu dresses and Hello Kitty make up for my pretty little princess.  And so the Universe, in amazing foresight, gave me a boy who ruins the Jordans I bought him yesterday immediately by sliding his feet and jumping in a mud puddle. So since I don't have a gorgeous daughter, I treat myself like one sometimes.  I buy myself little treats just cuz and take hours doing my hair for no special occasion but just to look cute.  I also remind myself that behavior from anyone in my space that I wouldn't allow for my imaginary daughter (or real son) is also not allowed for me.  My brilliant therapist put it to me like this once: "If Miles had a friend who was opening his lunchbox at school and spitting on his lunch, would you let Miles be friends with that kid?  Then why let people metaphorically spit in your lunch by doing or saying things to you that you don't like?  You deserve better."  So what is not good for the kids (real or imaginary) is also not good for me and I've been attempting to ball kick people who spit in my lunch ever since.
I make love
Yes, hot, passionate, toe curling, sweaty, loud love. Really.  Making love always make you feel better about yourself, right? It's so much more than horizontal hula between the sheets.  By making love I mean I smile at strangers on the street just cuz or I tell a friend they look beautiful in what they're wearing.  I die my hair green for love of the color and I get henna knowing it makes me feel regal.  I laugh A LOT and tell jokes and drink sangria and listen to amazing music and dance real close with someone's hand at the small of my back.  I get real grateful for all the stuff I do have like a roof over my head and a job, the amazing offspring I'm raising and the gifts I've been given.  Basically, I remind myself to create an atmosphere of Love and Ugly can't stand it.  Ugly and love have been mortal enemies since the beginning of time so immersing yourself in love while feeling ugly is like watching a knockdown, drag out MMA fight that Love always wins.  And Ugly gets all salty and sulks away defeated leaving room for Awesome to take center stage.  Create an atmosphere of love and Beauty will always show up to the party.

There is so much work I have to do if I'm to stay on the beauteous path.  But do you know what else makes me feel gorgeous? Growth.  Knowing how far I've come and how much more magnificent life I have to live is overwhelming but exciting as well. I feel beautiful when I'm proud of myself for being aware of my flaws and both accepting and working on them.  And I feel beautiful when I share with others what I have learned and hear them shout a resounding, "Me too, Sister! Me too!" So comment below or email me what you do to stay beautiful.  Tell me your tips, techniques and tactics and I'll post them so that we can all share the love. Believe me, I'll need all the help I can get with New Year's coming up and a parade of mini-skirted model looking amazons ready to patrol the streets of NY at the stroke of midnight! Let's create a space where we can be beautiful together and recognize that beauty is not only in the eye of the beholder but in the mind of the beautiful as well.