You Got the Cancer

I got the call Monday morning, March 31st, while I was at work. “Hello, Ms. Burgess. The results from your biopsy came back and the tumor in your right breast is cancerous.”

A stage 2, non-hormonal, triple-negative cancer - to be exact.

I can look at that fragmented sentence and no longer be scared or pissed-off. Not that I was scared when I received the news from Dr. Roth but I was a little bit pissed-off. Okay – a lot. Honestly, what the dilly-o, like – how did I get cancer? This crap does not run in my family, so how is my name attached to that diagnosis?

That six-minute conversation was surreal.

So many things were going through my mind at that time; I needed to contact the surgeon…I needed to find an oncologist…so many next steps but I really needed to call my Mommy and my bff Lexx. Calling them to share the results was much more difficult for me than receiving the call. Those close to me know I am very protective of the people I love and I knew my news would make them sad and I did not want them to be sad. It may sound weird but it’s true, I just did not want them to worry.

My thinking was (and still is) we got the results and now it’s time to fight.

My medical plan of attack on this foreign invader is 8 bi-weekly sessions of chemo to shrink the tumor’s size (maybe even kill it), surgery and then radiation. My personal plan of attack is to find out all I can about cancer: what is it, who gets it, cellular structure and side effects of chemo, nutrition during the fight and nutrition after, vitamins etc.

Bottom-line is the more I learn about this triple-negative, the more empowered I become.

Make no mistake - I will kick cancer’s ass.  

Eating Clean Does my Body (and Mind) Good

 "Fear is a natural reaction to moving closer to the truth” -- Pema Chödrön

A few years ago, my friend Holly was talking to me about Tosca Reno’s Eating Clean diet. Fairly quickly into her “eating clean monologue”, her words fell on deaf ears because I had dismissed it as something that would be so incredibly complicated, expensive and downright hard for me to incorporate into my life that I didn’t want to hear anything else about it. 

My thinking back then was, “how could this eating regimen be fulfilling when I would have to limit refined sugar, give up fake sugar, white flour, pre-packaged and processed food?” Frozen meals save me time. Diet Dr. Pepper hits the spot when I start getting sluggish at 3:00. And word to your Mother and mine - ain’t nothing like a Snickers to take the edge off during that time of the month.  I was also on a popular weight loss program at that time and I was losing weight, so if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. 

Right? 

Okay, I was hella wrong. Now, I can see that I was giving so much push back because this was taking me out of my comfort zone. These were HUGE changes and I was too nervous and too scared to make them at that time.

Even though I was losing weight, I knew what I was putting in my body was not good. I would always hit the wall at 3:00, I had spikes in my sugar levels, and rounded out with stomach and digestive issues – yea, I was gross. I could not keep lying to myself – I had to man-up and make some changes.

Right now, it is six in the morning as I write this post and in 30-minutes, I will begin my eating clean regimen. I have been eating clean since mid January 2012 and I can honestly say it has really done my body and mind – good.  

I usually have my first meal by 6:30 a.m. (everyday) and I eat every three hours. Each meal includes a complex carb and protein. I spend either Saturday or Sunday cooking a week’s worth of food for me and Jack – and I love it. The meals I cook are the bomb-delicious – just ask my sister and her boyfriend! My monthly grocery bill is down 85 bucks and I no longer need a weight loss program, so good-bye fees. 

My partner in crime Naomi is on her own eating clean journey and it is cool to be able to share ups and downs with each other. Don’t get me wrong, I slip up but slip-ups are expected after decades of poor eating habits. Bottom line is – I’m doing it. 

Shout out to Clean Eating magazine for the delicious recipes and flax seeds – for doing what you do!

If you are doing something that is pushing you out of your comfort zone – please share, I’d love to hear your story.

Dating with a Natural

Dating at 40 is one thing, dating at 40 with a natural is an entirely different beast.

Recently, a dear friend of mine set me up on a date. I usually “don’t do” blind dates but I needed a break from the crap I was seeing on those dating websites. It wasn’t a full-on blind date, I did see a picture of him before we met in person and what I saw – I liked. Before we met, Robert and I exchanged a few emails. (Y’all know Robert is not his real name.) He seemed cool, as cool as any one can be via email – he also came with a great reference. One date turned into three - and I thought things were going pretty darn well.

That was until date number four.

After our third round of drinks and two orders of seared tuna tacos, we were feeling pretty good. My makeup was perfect and my hair was on point with my new flower hair clip from Ododo Originals. (I highly recommend you check ‘em out)

Our corner of the restaurant was filled with our laughter and great conversation until Robert slowly says, “so, when are you going to wear your hair straight?” I consider myself a smart cookie but for some reason I could not comprehend with what he was asking me.

It turns out; our mutual friend showed him a picture of me when my hair was relaxed. I was also 20 pounds heavier in that photo but weight wasn’t his issue. When it finally sunk in as to what he was getting at, I told him that I was not going to use a flat iron on my hair and the only chemicals I will put in my hair is hair dye.

Needless to say we did not finish the tuna tacos.

Being the gentleman that he is, Robert graciously informed me that he liked “his women to have straight hair”.  I could dig that, we all have preferences. And at that moment, I preferred he paid the bill for wasting my damn time. He was also gracious enough to let me know that it was him and not me. Well, duh! I’m not sure how he thought I was going to carry his bag of crazy.

I’ve read about dudes like Robert. On natural hair websites and message boards, there are tons of blog posts and comments about black guys not digging sisters with naturals. Hell; my own brother suggested I get a weave. I’m not going to lie, for an instant I allowed them to make me feel unattractive.

For an instant.

But I have grown to love my hair. My hair is beautiful. It’s sensitive, it’s strong and it makes a statement - Just like me.

As I walked home, I began thinking about black women and our hair. Most men, like Robert, don’t realize that a good number of us don’t have straight hair. It’s curly, wavy, kinky and everything in-between. Many of us get perms slaved on when there is a hint of “new growth”. Just recently, a friend of mine put his fingers in my hair and I realized that in the two years we dated, he had never touched my hair. When I bought it up his reply was, “I know the rules when it comes to black women and their hair.” #Truth.

Right now, the only guys making a b-line to me are the homeys selling incense and body oils on the Broad Street Line. But it’s all good in my ‘hood, what that dude failed to see was that I am more than just my hair.

It was him. It most definitely was.

*I am not implying that the women that decide to wear their hair one way are any better that than those that decide to wear their hair another way. It is indeed just hair and we are all more than just our hair. xoxo

what’chu talkin’ ‘bout, willis?

Recently, I met a dear friend for lunch at Cooperage in the Curtis Building.  If you are ever in Philadelphia near 7^th & Walnut, make it your top priority to grab a bite to eat there.  You cannot go wrong ordering the pulled pork sandwich, mac & cheese or pork nachos –they are to-die-for.  Anyway, while my friend and I were waiting for our plates of delicious goodness to arrive, we had our “homegirl catch-up”; which is usually an update on our adorably talented kids, her husband, and any of the men I’m dating.

My homegirl and I go back ten years - we met in Rittenhouse Square through our sons who were toddlers at the time. That day, our boys decided they were going to be friends and after she and I spent a few hours together chasing after them, we both knew we would be too.  Our friendship, like most friendships, has weathered many of life’s difficulties and we genuinely love each other like sisters.  During our catch-up, my sister referred to the 43% of American’s, some like to claim, ‘do not’ pay taxes as “roaches and parasites that feed off of every hard-working American”. My first thought was, “this chick has lost her ever-lovin’ mind”.  The more she spoke, the more she sounded like she was parroting political talking points – and the more I needed a stiff drink.

Where is my food?

Her viewpoint totally caught me off guard, and the only thing I could say was, “what”. That’s it – what.  I come from a family that debated anything and everything, so I really try to respect other opinions but I was taking that insult personally.  When I shared with her that when she and I met, I was a part of that 43 per cent (not sure of that percentage ten years ago); she was stunned and ultimately embarrassed.  Truthfully, my goal was not to embarrass her, although my soul did give thanks to the Creator when she stopped talking.  

Of course, our food would come as I begin to make my point.

I wanted to share with her that someone she loved and respected needed social programs at one point, and maybe, there is someone now in her life, that is currently a part of the 43 – like maybe her housekeeper, nanny or anyone from her grounds crew – that may need social programs, even though they work full-time.

Newsflash: The working poor are just like other workin’ folk: they go to work, and get taxes taken out of their checks. The only difference is their paychecks are not making their ends meet.

I guess it is easier to vilify a number and not a face. After she knew I was on a form of state assistance, it was suddenly okay with her that that particular social program was available to Jack and me but it was not okay minutes ago in her tirade. Maybe that happens with a lot of us - we block, generalize and pushback until an issue hits home. Then we understand. My girlfriend is in a higher percentage of the 99 than I am but we are still in the 99.

I find it interesting how those that control the media and government are able to get people in the same group to turn on each other – and we don’t even realize it.

Ultimately, my sister and I found a way to enjoy the rest of our meal and a way back to enjoying each other – and I didn’t even need a drink to do it.  That’s my homegirl, I love her. 

mind phuckery

I am a writer.  Right now, I make my living writing press releases, drafting publications and writing web content that promotes “the importance of maintenance of certification (MOC)” amongst doctors. [Insert sounds of snoring] It’s not the writing I’d like to be doing but every week there’s a paycheck with my name on it – and for that I am very grateful. 

I wasn’t always a 9to5’er, at one point, I was fortunate enough to make a living in film & video production, but life took me in a different direction and after I learned that my unhealthy consumption of cheese steak hoagies and jalapeño French fries with salpeppaketchup was due to a life growing inside me - I had to make changes. I knew I had to say goodbye to the creatively unpredictable world of film & video and hello to a stable predictable 9to5.  I’ve been in the 9to5 world ever since.

No doubt about it, I am very happy with my life, it’s just – lately- I find myself missing the excitement. Oh my gosh, the rush I used to get before the first take, or the goose bumps I used to get sitting with creative kinfolk brainstorming ideas.  Hell, I even miss running around like a chicken with its head cut-off looking for missing talent - you would never know what the day would bring. Not so much there, everyday is pretty much like the day before.  Even after eleven years, for me, working in an office is still a mind phuck.

At my daily-grind, most of the copy I submit is marked up so badly, it looks like someone spilled red juice all over it, or the ideas I pitch are shot down until Boss Lady pitches the very same ones – then it’s scripture. I tell ya, if I did not have creative people in my life, I would actually begin to second-guess myself as a writer.  I observe some of the people I work with and I can see that this is their passion.  They have worked their lives trying to get here and they are happy to be here and will do anything to stay.  To each his own, I guess - my name ain’t Toby.

Sometimes, I feel like I’m in high school. Like oh my gawd, if I just conformed, I could be cool, too. If I would just write like “Joe Schmoe” down the hall, or always be upbeat like “Positive Polly” up the hall – maybe I would finally get an office with a window.  It would be so easy to compromise who I am and go with the flow, but if I teach my son to always, regardless of what the crowd says, stay true to yourself – how can I do otherwise?

Damn! Damn! Damn!  (In my best Florida Evans’ voice)  I’m a square peg, always was and always will be.

So…what’s the weather like outside?

matlock makes it all better

Single mom or not, being a mother is hard.  As mom’s, our paths are very similar – I’m sure the majority of mom’s feel that 24 hours is not nearly enough time to get everything done and most of us, at one time or another, have felt like we weren’t good enough. But lemme tell ya’, dating or dealing with a break-up while being a single mom absolutely sucks!  Ever since my kid “broke up” with me and pushed me out of the nest to find a boyfriend, I’ve been having anxiety about dating – online dating in particular.  A while ago, I ended a ‘going nowhere’ relationship with a nice-enough man and the thought of resurrecting that is sounding much better than uploading photos of myself or creating a profile.

The truth of the matter is I have trouble with being vulnerable. It takes me a very long time to truly share myself with someone.  To the outside world, my exterior is strong and self-assured, but to those that really know me – my interior can be filled with uncertainty, self-doubt and immense fear. So of course, I’d be thinking of resurrecting that dead relationship – I know the guy, he knows me and I know what to expect, even if it wouldn’t be much. This isn’t a pity-party for me, I’m just being real. We all have our own issues and we have to look at them openly and honestly, if we’re ever going to grow, right? However, this whole being vulnerable thingy pushes me out of my comfort zone…and I need control!

Weeks ago, I joined singleparentsmeet.com.  After joining the site, it took me a while to upload a picture, and I still have yet to write my profile but I am thinking about it – maybe, I’m thinking about it too much.  Should I be coy spice? Or maybe intelligent spice? How about sporty spice? And my display picture, am I showing too much curvy spice?  Ya see anxiety.

The other night, I was having dinner with my sister – who’s engaged – and I was explaining to her how intimidated I am by internet dating sites and that they make me feel like I’m selling myself.  After she finished laughing, big sis put another spin on it.

“Nette, think of those dating sites like a bar or restaurant you hang out at. You know how you package yourself before you got out…just do it online. You’re creative, right?” 

Yes. Yes I am.

She’s right; before I go out I make sure I am “packaged” to the nines – from hair & make-up to clothes, shoes and accessories.  I’m not one to beep my own horn but beep-beep. 

It will probably take me a few weeks to get my packaging the way I want for these sites but I’m actually looking forward to see what the response will be.  I wonder as I go through this process, if I will feel less and less freaked out.  Maybe, maybe not but right now, the only thing I feel like doing is crawling in my bed, curling up under my covers and watching dv-r’d episodes of Matlock but I am off to check homework, cook dinner and find out how my little homey’s day was at school.

the break-up

A few weeks ago, my 11-year-old son and I were getting ourselves ready to leave our house and begin our Sunday ritual.  From the time he was a toddler, every Sunday he and I would hang out at our neighborhood Starbucks – set up camp for a few hours – to read, talk, and laugh, while I drank grande after grande of their Pike’s Place coffee.  Chalk it up to Mother’s intuition or his facial expressions, but this Sunday didn’t feel like the other Sundays. While tying my sneaker, he sits down next to me and says, “hey mom, can we skip today? My friends are outside and I wanna hang with them.” 

Skip today? What the hell was this kid talking about – skip today?

I really tried not to look disappointed but my scrunched-up face and opened mouth gave me away because he says, “Mom, I promise, next week it’ll just be me and you. But if you had a boyfriend…” And with that my son and his big curly afro were out the door.  Since I had been pretty much left immobile by his words, I started thinking about what he just said.  It’s true - he is getting older and as each year passes, he needing me less and less.  He has his friends and it’s time I find…a boyfriend? A boyfriend? Talk about scary.

In the past 11-years, I’ve only had two boyfriends. Both were very good men but my son was my focal point.  Okay, okay, okay – really I have been using my kid as an excuse so I wouldn’t become too invested in a relationship and get hurt, because I always get hurt. Now it seems “my excuse” is kicking me out of the nest - oh the irony.

Life has thrown (and landed) a lot of punches, I’ve taken every blow and I keep getting back in the ring – but this? Where do I start? What do I say?

I am a 39-year-old curvaceous single parent ISO a serious relationship? Well played life, well played, indeed.

Now, I’m off to create a profile on singleparentmeet.com – wish me luck.