Moving to the French/Italian Alps

Chateau de Vizille Park, Swan Lake, French Alps by Walter Bibikow

Wow, right?

Well, Husband and I always thought we'd eventually move back to the Midwest. We're from the Midwest, we met & fell in love there, and most of our family lives in the Midwest now. We love the friendly and easy-going pace of life. But, to be honest, I don't feel a strong pull to live there anymore.

After I moved to New England for my career years ago, the Midwest became my idol-area, my golden beacon, calling me back. New England was too fast, too rude, too business and no heart. I missed the cows, the smell of hay, heck...after awhile I was even nostalgic for the smell of skunk. Being secluded and in an entirely different culture will do that to a person. -_-'

But, perhaps now that I'm pregnant, or maybe because I'm not so Midwest-idealistic anymore...I just don't feel the frantic need to get back there. I guess...I don't think the Midwest is "perfect" anymore. I know that there is no perfection, unless it's where you want to be.

I'm also honestly thinking of issues surrounding racism, community, job prospects, and being an interracial/multi-cultural family. Growing up I dealt with a bit of racism, but like a sweet Midwestern Brown girl, I was a little hesitant to call it by name. I just thought that there were some misguided people in the world, desperately in need of friends, and that I shouldn't take their slights personally.

I'm not sure if that was a good outlook to have or not; I'm not sure how it prepared me for the nuances of broader American society where racism was more blatant and hurtful.

But now I'm thinking about how it will be for our kids to grow up in America, in the Midwest, as biracial. I'm also thinking about American culture and media and how I don't like how it's degrading towards women. Wherever we move, we won't have a television. (Please excuse how rambling this email might become...it's a serpentine and convoluted topic for me)

So, I asked my Sicilian what he thought about moving to Europe, since I didn't feel a strong pull to the Midwest anymore and he said "Sure." 

My brain reacted thusly: ".... did that really happen? Did he just say yes?"


So I asked him again, and again he confirmed and said he was open to it.

Now don't get me wrong: I'd miss my family, I'd really miss Husband's family, and I'd miss the rolling hills of fresh lushness found in the Midwest; those are the only things that could keep us in the States. But hey, family could visit us. ;) And lushness is everywhere. If we can't find it in the landscape of Europe, I'm sure Husband and I could find it in the dips and curves of our bodies as we enjoy matrimonial bliss.

(Back from a short fantasy about my Sicilian ;)
So, I work remotely as a Writer and Editor and I plan to continue doing so since I'm going to become a Mother. So, I can work anywhere.  Husband is a Scientist and those are needed all over the Earth. So I think after 4-5 years, we could be moving to Europe, permanently; at least that's one of the ideas we're throwing around.

So why the French/Italian Alps? Well, I speak French, I love French culture, I'm comfortable in France. Why the Italian Alps? Well, we'll have Italian citizenship, our kids will be basically 1/2 Italian and my Husband is Italian (and Sicilian); so it'll be nice for them to have a direct link to one of their cultures. Husband also still has family in Italy.

There's so much I want for the future, for myself and for my family.

via chateaudelille.blogspot.com

For my family: I want a calm life. My Sicilian has the tendency to overwork. He's a scientist, which is a great career, but he's also very spiritual and needs to be outside. He's very manly and needs close and immediate access to the wilderness. I also want the country for our family. I want our babies to have a big area to run and play. I want animals, I'd love to have some sheep. And I'd just love to have LOTS of babies and lots of room for babies, Husband said he'd like 5 children, I'd like that too. I'd like our cappuccino colored babies to live in an area with nice neighbors where I won't have to worry about having to kick someone's ass for being rude to our babies; don't tell me I won't find that place! It's illegal to burst a pregnant woman's bubble!
(Sorry, "turn the other cheek" is great, but I will always protect and confront on my children's behalf).

For myself, I want to continue my classical art education focusing on figure painting and I want to then go to graduate school for Masters or PhD. I'd like to do my PhD at a university in the States and then finish it in Europe. I also want to continue my hobby of playing the violin. So many dreams!

ps. I've found where we should live! I'll save that for a later post!

DO YOU have a dream-place you'd like to move???

Saying "non" to Baby Einstein and My Special Treat!

Bonjour Mes Cheres!

It's such a lovely day! As you can see, I'm really trying to blog more consistently. I totally have the TIME it's just I haven't had the will...you know, with the nausea and all. And then life just got busy with trying to get our flat together for the Baby.

But things have calmed down a bit; our flat is getting back to it's elegant and orderly self and I have more energy than I did 3 months prior :) I'm SO happy about that. My next post REALLY should be an update on my garden...or maybe I should say "garden." I wish someone could help me!

But I digress: Baby Einstein.

Baby Einstein by Disney

Have you heard of this? It's a franchise based around a series of DVDs for babies. Before getting pregnant, I crossed this off as some consumerist scheme to inundate babies with television and encourage passive parenting. But magically after becoming all round and glowy...I began to wonder "will Baby Girl be missing out if we don't get Baby Einstein?"

A little background: Husband and I don't own a television. Ok, that's a lie. My aunt bought us a small portable television last Christmas; and it lives in our closet. However, we do watch maybe 1 television show online per night (legally) but we agreed that we'd rather give our extra time to each other, not the boob tube (and television has literally become the "boob and butt" tube. Maybe if you watch it often, you don't notice how racy and demeaning television, and the media in general is towards women and women's bodies).

But a couple of months ago, my Sicilian showed me a baby prodigy who had apparently watched Baby Einstein and then started playing the piano ferociously well. So that made me wonder...should we try it out?

So I did what everyone does when they have a question: I posted it on my facebook. Let my friends tell me their opinions! Well...after saying my husband and I didn't watch TV so we could spend time with each other, I was confronted by an acquaintance who demanded that I get our unborn child a television! and proceeded to tooted the benefits of tv watching for babies.

Honestly I don't agree with anything she said,  but I didn't want to hurt her feelings (she's also pregnant) so I tried to say nicely that I respect her opinion but that it's not for us.

The reason that I work very part time now, is so I can give our baby all the attention she needs (I also like giving Husband all the attention he needs; because he deserves it and also because that love and attention is mirrored back to me. Meaning, you mimic what you're around everyday: if you're around someone who ignores you; you'll begin to ignore them. If the person you love adores you, you'll find yourself adoring them. This is not a universal, but I think it's true for marriages. Or it can be true if both partners are open).

So anyways, the conclusion is: I don't agree with Baby Television. I didn't like it when I first saw it, and I still don't. Instead when she's tiny, we'll play together. She'll have "tummy time" and a few toys. As she grows a bit bigger, we'll do different activities: singing, drawing, Mommy-Daugther dance class, outside play time, library fun, play dates, and baby sign language. I think active learning, through interacting with real people, is better than passively watching television. We may watch SOME movies later on, but the tv is not a valued member of our household.

It's fine if you don't agree. I'm not the ruler of your life. But Husband and I have decided what's going down in our home. And the constant drone of the boob tube is not happening. I don't like the pseudo-porn that is shown anyway. But we may get a television later on, to watch some wholesome favorites like: Mr. Bean (ha ha! ok, it's not traditional, but it's cute and funny), the Duggars, History Channel, Discovery, and various movies.

We also don't need any tv boobies and booties to add spice to our love life. Just mirroring love and affection to each other seems to be all the spark we need to ignite our blaze...if you know what I mean ;)

Ok, on to my special present....................................
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A Louis Vuitton Ladies Handbag!  Hooray! 

Ok, it's totally not mine yet! I have to work in order to buy it! I refuse to buy luxury items with our savings or with our everyday spending money. That defeats the purpose. You shouldn't have to sacrifice your RENT or your meals out or your everyday necessities to buy a luxury item. If that's the case, you need more money or to wait a bit longer to make a luxury purchase/investment. Unless you're single and having a very well-paying job where you won't be fired, then...I think it's ok :) Or if your parents' give it to you, that's super nice too.

I started thinking about a luxury bag back in 2007. I thought I'd buy a cute little Dooney & Burke, but they are not really my style. Neither were Coach bags (there are some I kind of like now, but none have really jumped out at me).

I'll tell you a secret: I don't like purse shopping. I like my bag to be like my Husband: DEPENDABLE; able to carry heavy loads, handsome, and goes along for the ride, whatever that may be.

I don't like switching purses. I don't like shopping for them. And even thinking about doing it makes me tired. All the purses I have now are pretty poor looking. Strings are popping out, they're broken, the faux leather is cracked, and they're just tired looking. Why? Because I USE them! And they're not Quality!

I bought a black faux lambskin arm bag from Walmart the day we left for Europe. (I know...Walmart?! well, I was rushing to finish packing for our flight and it was the only store that was close!) It was a lovely little purse. It did everything I needed. It handled well and looked great with ALL my outfits. But, at the end of our +2week trip, the top handle which attaches to the "leather" had ripped! :( I still have the purse, and still plan to wear it out, I just wish it would last forever so that whenever I carried it, I could remember those special traveling memories. :)

Apparently, I need a Louis Vuitton. They look chic and they last forever. An acquaintance told me that her mother has had a LV Speedy for 30 years. That sounds like my kind of man...I mean purse! ;)

But...I have to wait and see if I'm hired for this job; since I already said I'm only using my play money (my own personal spending money) to buy luxury items! And after I buy this one special item, the rest of my money will go to our Nest Egg and investments <3

~*~*~Imogen~*~*~

My Naked Palette and a Good Book Find!

I just had to share, I'm so excited!

Husband bought me the "naked" palette from Urban Decay!

courtesy of urbandecay.com

Hooray! He actually bought me the "Dangerous" palette for my birthday (in April) and we just exchanged it today for the Naked. And I LOVE it!

**Edit** I have to confess, when I returned the palette, I said it was unused: TOTALLY THE TRUTH. BUT I'd forgotten that I'd used the eye pencil that came with it and that it was actually IN MY PURSE!!! DUN DUN DUHHHHH!!! I didn't return it or even remember it!

My Hottie Husband was rushing me off so he could get to his martial arts, and with my pregnancy brain I was too distracted to remember until late last night. Well let me tell you mes chères, I was so DISTRAUGHT that I couldn't sleep! I kept tossing and turning, racked with guilt, knowing they thought me such a bad girl, a bad person, a horrible makeup thief, while they cried in the storeroom bemoaning how evilly I had tricked them with my devilish cuteness & cunning  :'(

I was still awake, sopping with guilt at 2am, and as a preggie, I need my sleep! Bien sur! So the only thing that calmed me down was thinking about where Husband and I would buy our European vacation home and what should be our child's second language: French or Italian???.... eventually I fell into a fitful slumber.

Now, as soon as my hottie Sicilian comes home we are dashing to the Makeup Store where I will apologize profusely and buy a replacement eye pencil for my returned UD palette!

Whew! I'm glad I got that off my chest! :D Thank you for hearing my confession. Now tell me to do 10 Hail Marys and to wash all my dishes and I'll feel almost all better. :)

Now, I can tell you about how FABOOSH my Urban Decay NAKED palette is!
(yes, I use slightly outdated slang, I don't care. I mean, I'm not one of those posers who uses SUPER outdated non-culturally related slang just to be retro cool. (like me saying "that's so radical dude!" just doesn't fit!  So it does seem a little weird when I see my creamy counterparts saying "hey sistergirl" or "sup" or "what's up my brother" to each other...randomly inserted thoughts are a part of pregnancy!)

So anyways, LOVE THIS MAKEUP!

At first I thought it would be too...neutral for my luscious roasted chestnut skin tone. I was wrong!

I also thought all the colors were basically the same, which is why I passed it up in the first place: wrong again!

The palette is amazing!
I'm not a self-proclaimed "makeup guru" nor am I a "product junkie." I must say that I rarely buy makeup, so that's how I justify buying a $48 set of eye shadows! But let me just say mes petites, that I LOVE these makeups! The eyeshadow is so powdery, but it's not loose and hard to control. They are pigmented, but they don't make me look "ashy," as many makeups do! I really like this. (I also like Bobbi Brown's foundation, blush, and under eye corrector! Lovely!)

Other than my makeup adventure yesterday, I also went to the library! By myself- I should add. Since Husband hardly lets me go anywhere by myself...ever. I only got to go because he was doing Martial Arts! And it was a lovely trip! I found the best book and I'm so excited to read it:

Before Versailles: A Novel of Louis XIV 

by Karleen Koen

 

Let me just say, this seems like a great novel! And not just because of my consummate love of all things French (excluding their men of course, I'm married!)

Usually if a book (novel, non-fiction, or otherwise) doesn't grab me from the first page, I'm bored. I read a LOT and I don't waste my time with duds. That's just how I roll (see, more slang). But yes, this novel was interesting from the prologue. It was actually the sweet and contemplative cover that caught my eye. The woman is not coquettish at all, at least not to me. She looks intelligent, unwillingly charming, and disarmingly challenging...looking boldly at me. So, I accepted her challenge and picked up the book. I got 1/2 way through the first chapter before it was time to go pick up my hot sweaty Sicilian who most likely would look gloriously playful after his hard workout. So needless to say I felt no need to dilly dally at the library ;)

But, I soon discovered that I couldn't check the book out because I remembered that Husband still had my keys and therefore my library card! I was a little more than upset. Unfortunately I was having another bout of Preggie Brain and was wrong again! My Keys were in my purse the whole time!

I really need to wear a wooden sign alerting everyone to the dangers of Preggie Brain. Or perhaps a public service announcement.

But if I concentrate really hard, I CAN be productive and normal!

I have my second interview this week and I'm super excited! I hope they offer me the position.

(Don't tell them about the Preggie Brain)

My hair, my life, my stomach...

 
I really need to do my hair.

Like really.

I need to get out of the bed, shower, slather my hair with conditioner, and tame these bedraggled sorry droopy crunchy things that should be tiny little coiling luscious curls. Instead I look like some sort of dried up mohawk bird.

I just don't have the energy right now. AND I'm scared!

I had a bowl of cereal with milk about an hour ago, and I'm afraid if I move too much (more than approximately an inch, in any direction) I will become instantly nauseous and puke out the nutrients my baby and I desperately need.

So this is what I've become.
I've gone from a woman who gloried in delicious foods, who orgasmed at the thought of having jambon beurre and chocolate chaud in Paris,  to a dry-headed scaredy cat...too afraid to eat.

Man. That jambon beurre sounds delicious. Hold on, I need to call my Sicilian and ask him to bring home some french bread and thinly sliced organic ham for lunch! Pronto! OMG! My phone is out of my one inch radius!!! What do I do???!!! He didn't answer!!! And after all that harrowing grabbing and reaching. I'm going to need to watch a Duggar episode in order to calm down...

Ok, back to what's going on: last night was NOT a good night. I had to climb OUT of our warm luxurious bed, away from my hot husband, and out into the cold, frigid air, to run to the bathroom....around 7 times. Let's just say I had an upset stomach. Then, at 1am I woke up very dizzy, almost falling over to relieve my upset stomach.

If I haven't told you already, I sometimes suffer from SEVERE VERTIGO, which makes my eyeballs roll around in my head...very creepy, but also so scary the thought of it happening again makes me panic and cry. It's very disconcerting not being able to control your Eyeballs!

So anyways I had to take one of my dizzypills (the prescription says take 2 but one is fine for me) and I spent the rest of my conscious hours praying for the baby not to be affected and ordering my husband to do the same in some sluggish sleeptalk language that he seems to understand.


So after such a hellish night following 3 days of nausea, I'm just chilling right now. 
No guilt. Not doing housework. Nothing. I may not even shower.
Nasty, I know. I just want to sleep.

When I wake up, maybe I'll be ready to become a functioning human being again...

IS MY BODY BETRAYING ME?!?

Have any of you experienced waves of nausea that vibrate up your body with each step you take?

Toph's Earthbending looks a lot like how my nausea feels

Well that's what I've been experiencing for the past 3 days.
Yesterday was the absolute WORST because while at work my insides instantly decided to go into REVERSE! I BARELY had enough time to run to the bathroom and I didn't have enough time to make it to a stall.

Let's just say I'm lucky they keep a garbage can out in the open...and that there was no one blocking it. And that no one saw that I totally MISSED the garbage and totally spewed exorcist style onto the wall...the shame!

SO EMBARRASSING.

And other than embarrassing, it was unprofessional, unattractive, and just plain unreasonable!

I feel like my body has turned traitor. It's doing outrageous things...like going into instant reverse without warning....getting ridiculously tired from mundane activities...and making certain foods just plain OFFENSIVE.

My husband chopped some green peppers for me to eat the other day and the only way I can describe their smell is...it smelled like those green peppers just wanted trouble! Like the sole purpose of their existence was to offend me.  It sounds RIDICULOUS, but that's how I felt. Like they and all their little peppery green buddies were out to get me, like they were a rude guys who barged in my house, spit on my sofa, and tried to beat me up.
I just really felt offended by their presence, their smell, their entire existence!

So...no green peppers for me. Even thinking about them makes me kind of mad.

Isn't that weird! My body is like....freaking me out!

My boobs are getting bigger. I've gained 2 lbs the last month. I'm still pretty hour-glassy... but soon it'll happen, I didn't even realize it until this week....

I WON'T HAVE AN HOURGLASS FIGURE ANYMORE!

I'LL HAVE A BUMP IN THE MIDDLE! I'LL BE AN APPLE! A LITTLE ROUND APPLE!

THAT'S CUTE AND ALL... BUT I ADORE MY FIGURE. HOW WOMANLY IT IS. HOW SHAPELY AND VOLUPTUOUS!!!!!

I'd just come into my own: realizing that I'm not meant to be 120lbs and starving, but a goddess of sensuality! And now...I'll be a chocolaty cream-puff in 8 months. Probably 6!


And I guess that's ok right?

I'm heading towards another kind of "womanly-ness".

With lush breasts

A ripe stomach full of a love-made life

Glowing skin and long coiling dark curls (I'm hoping, although I've had 3 pimples this past week!)

I guess this is just what happens.

My Sicilian doesn't really understand: Just because Millions of women for Millions of years have been pregnant and given birth, doesn't mean that it's just old hat to me! It's new! And it's not just run of the mill to be nauseaus, and throwup at a moment's notice! No matter how many relatives calmly tell me it is! Does no one sympathize???!!!

I guess I DO want a pity party, I want everyone to put on sad little paper hats, and crowd around me, and cry about how much of a wonderful trooper I am.  Wow! I never knew I was so bratty! At least I still have enough composure to see that.)


(munch munch munch...these ginger chew's really help!)

Oh! I wanted to tell all the other expecting moms...or loved ones of those expecting, or people expecting moms have barfed all over by mistake while trying to reach the toilet:

These ginger chews really help with nausea!

Ginger Chews

I've popped one when I felt the nausea coming on and they really help (totally not affiliated with them and not paid to say this).


Before we bought them, I admit I was a little afraid to eat...projectile vomiting across the room and hitting a wall will do that to a girl. But I've safely been able to nibble here and there (after my notoriously nauseated 11am-12.30pm time)!


Have any of you suffered from nausea...pregnancy related or otherwise? Have any tips?????

On being Pregnant (first trimester)

Hot Milk Lingerie

 (I don't really like this picture that much, but I wanted something and I'm too tired to keep looking!)

Hello There~*~*

So I'm pregnant! with child! carrying! so many wonderful words to describe the miracle that's happening inside me right now.

I still have a hard time believing that I'm pregnant so I often talk to my tiny baby, or make up little songs about what it's probably doing :)



Other than making up songs, I've noticed that I'm tired a lot of the time and I get hungry much more often. But I try to have healthy snacks of almonds, cheese, as well as organic veggies and fruit.

I've also noticed that my BREASTS are REALLY SORE. They usually get sore during my womanly time, but now they're like EXTREMELY TENDER! I also have cramps on and off sometimes, not like during my womanly time, because those are SEVERE, these are more just...on again off again little feelings. 

I'm also enjoying talking to our baby and referring to my Sicilian as "Daddy": saying "I wonder what Daddy will want for dinner" or "I wonder what Daddy is working on right now. I'm very excited for this entire process. Maybe not the birthing so much, seems scary, hard, and very painful. But, I've even started researching trying to have a positive birthing experience, so I'm reading this book:

Learn More

Diary of a Midwife: The Power of Positive Childbearing
One of many by the way.

I'll tell you more about it after I've read more.


Ps. I'm having a hard time finding pictures I like that really illustrate the mood I'm trying to convey, so I think I'm going to start illustrating this blog myself! After searching for so long, I'm tired. Goodnight. Wow, I stayed up till 9.15pm...I think that's a record. I've been conking out at 8 o'clock!

~*Imogen~*

I like watching my husband shower....

It's blatant voyeurism, and I admit it freely.

He doesn't seem to mind, he actually basks in his nakedness, finding a freedom and a glory that is just impossible when he's fully clothed. Even if I'm not watching him, he takes pleasure in running out of the shower or bedroom, buck-naked and doing some sort of primal "man dance" he's created in order for me to squeal in delight.

I watch him openly...coming into the bathroom while he showers...under the pretense of telling him something that can't wait till he's done. But he just smiles and soaps up slowly and does a careful rendition of his "man-dance" so he doesn't fall and bust his head in our slippery shower.

And I stare and smile, since my husband is quite beautiful, and quite different than me: with his muscular form and his smooth, milk-white skin that is so different than my chestnut brown.  Perhaps, most of all I love his "you're looking at me!" water soaked smile.

I also like watching him covertly...when he doesn't realize I'm there. 
I like hearing him sing...hearing him make up little songs...made up entirely of my name...and I like hearing him beatbox...which is the twitch-like hobby he engages in whenever he's transitioning from one activity to another. It's very cute to hear him, and I wonder: Where did he learn this?

It gives me a secret thrill to peek through the slightly cracked door, that I know he leaves open, hoping I'll take a peek. It's not like Marcel Duchamp's "Etant donne"...with it's suggested violence....even though I did like that piece.  Seeing someone else naked...just isn't the same...it's like porn. Porn has it's place...in adolescence...or when you want something spicy, or when you want to learn more love moves...

But watching my husband shower is intimate beyond words...that I'm allowed in his steam filled bubble, while he's at his most vulnerable...where he's comfortable to just let me in...is very special to me.

Last night he called, in the middle of one of his made up songs: "Why don't you come in? You know I miss you most when I shower...."

I came in and kissed him, then went into the kitchen.

Gotta keep him guessing (wink)

~*~*~Imogen~*~*~

On Being a Painter

Hello Dear One,

yes, here's another tidbit, I'm an oil-painter. A full fledged, slightly neurotic, basically obsessed, classically trained oil painter (I feel like I'm in AA).

But in all honesty, painting is sort of an addiction. It's something that I'm drawn to do...pulled to do by compulsion, sometimes I love it, sometimes I hate it... while I'm loving it. Painting brings me such joy and despair that sometimes I feel that only another artist could possibly understand such self-inflicted, bless'ed torture.

Why do I bring this up? I'm feeling the desire to paint again. I've felt it for awhile...I've just needed to get my studio in order at home. My apartment is quite a mess right now! From moving, to marrying, to 1/2 month-long Euro honeymoon, to Christmas with relatives... our apartment's sanctity has suffered. I'm only now getting to organizing our place.

My husband bought me a beautiful roll-top desk, upon which sits an amazing antique doll we bought for 5euros in Paris' march aux puces (historic world site flea market!) (Picture to be included after organization).

I love my husband dearly. We both love luxury and beautiful things; things that are gilded and ornate and speak of a bygone past or the fairytale past we are creating with each other.

So later today, I'll be painting...welcoming the seductive tortuous pleasurable pain. I guess for me, oil painting could be likened to a much delayed orgasm...I paint for days, months... but at the end of each day, I'm always JUST on the verge of satisfaction... needing to adjust depth here, add more intense color there. I know that I must continue...struggling, stepping back, leaning in close...it's such an intimate dance; until the last session, when I can look at my work and be satisfied, the ecstasy of creation.



So painting does have a very seductive call, but at the same time, in the back of my mind, I know that fulfillment is a far way off.

Curly Headed Imogen....and her swishy-haired past

Hello Cherished Guest,

I'd like to declare today that I have curly hair!

(me, this morning, delicately shielding my face with an envelope )

("wow" you exclaim sarcastically...very exciting)


But this actually is very exciting news!


I've always worn my hair very long and very straight; coveting and basking in the glory of my long swishy locks that blew in the breeze...softly whispering of my Native American heritage. (I'm Metisse you see, which in the US, just means homogeneous"Black or African American"--which denotes a people who have the same racial heritage. But to me "Black" means very mixed, having the most diverse cultural and racial heritage ever).

Back to topic: I DID love my swishy hair... I loved being able to watch a Pantene commercial and then swish my hair around like the models. I loved the silky feel of my long ponytails and being able to whip them about me. But my hair wasn't unusual to me it was just a part of my life... all the women in my family have swishy hair...accept theirs is natural.


Growing up in all Black neighborhood, where swishy hair was not very common, I wasn't taught that I was "better" than my peers because of my swishy hair...but I WAS treated differently. As a child it was very odd and confusing to be treated differently because of my hair texture and length, it was almost as if I didn't belong.

Another thing that separated me from the other children was their curiosity concerning my Grandmother, who would often come up for Grandparents' Day or other functions. I was confused about why the children of my very urban elementary school called my Grandmother "Indian" and asked if I were Indian too..trying desperately to fit me, this chestnut colored girl with the long straight black hair, into a little box. Since it was the norm for me, my Grandmother's looks weren't unusual. My mother's very fair skin and silky waves of amber were more attributes that made me and my family stick out as a bit unusual.

During that time, I was sometimes I was adored...with girls wanting to comb and braid my hair...

Other times I was ostracized, intentionally: You're a Barbie! You've got Barbie Hair! Bet it smells plastic-y! Bet it's a weave! God! You're such a liar! that is not your real hair! Maybe I'll cut it! Let's pull it!

or unintentionally : "ooo, look at her! her hair just falls straight when she takes out her scrunchy! instead of being stiff! wow!"

But little did they know I actually had a head of very thick....very CURLY hair, that my immediate family had no idea how to handle...

All the women in my family have long, naturally straight or slightly waving hair. I attribute this to my various White and Native American grandparents and great grandparents. I, however, having a Creole grandmother or perhaps it was my glorious African heritage emerging... popped out bald, but later grew an unruly mass of curls on my little hazelnut head.

Instead of conditioning and then allowing them to coil and twist down my back, I think my female relatives were just a bit horrified, or at least at a complete loss on what to do with hair that poofed and curled, that snared buttons and pulled at rings.

So, they brushed, raked, oiled and straightened my curls. I suffered hot combs, hot irons, hot rollers, then later perms/relaxers. And for some reason, my hair did very well with these methods (minus the occasional bald period, when all the mirrors in my house mysteriously disappeared).

I grew to learn how to care for this elbow length swishy hair...never knowing the luxurious curls that were my inheritance.

After my marriage 3 months ago, I decided to chop off the rest of my relaxer (5 inches) and finally see what my curls looked like.

I was VERY surprised to see all the little curls, coils, and curly-Qs that framed my face like some sort of afro-angelic halo!

I have to say I love my curls. And my Sicilian loves them too...little does my family know, he prefers dark, curly hair...finds it mysterious and seductive.

Just last night I said playfully asked my husband:

"What if I said, I'm thinking of straightening my hair?"

Sicilian: "I'd say no, you are forbidden."

(Artistic Rendering of my Husband) ... (the Godfather by Paramount Pictures)

Me: "Why? ((pause)) But why?"

Sicilian: "Your hair looks healthier, naturally silky, and free. I like it"

Me: ((slow seductive smile and ready to take my Sicilian home and show him what comes of such sweet talk))--instead I give him a wink and finish our very delish, very expensive anniversary dinner <3

My family however, has said that my husband is just "humoring me, because he doesn't want to hurt my feelings..."

Yet it's THEIR sentiments that are hurtful! The fact that my FAMILY thinks my god-given hair is "wrong" and should be bound and tamed, just because it's different than theirs is hurtful... and can we say "Internalized racism" much? or is it something else????

I know my family is against my new found curly tresses, preferring the straight swishy hair I've had for so long. But Why? Maybe they want to proclaim our mixed heritage, maybe they want to say, through hair: we're just as good! we can have swishy hair too!

Or maybe through the years they've been brainwashed to think that curly hair is bad, unruly, too seductive, too ethnic, too voluminous....

To all the above I say: Pish Posh!

I love my curly hair! I'm tired of "fitting in"! And I see lots of Black women with tortured hair that's stiff, greasy, horrible looking, and just basically un-natural. And I think their hair would look so much better if it were set free! I begin to think how glorious Black Women would look with their natural hair, how majestic and seductive. (yes, seductive is one of my favorite words)

I think Black hair, is so very unique and versatile. And so many of us curly heads (white, black, korean, hispanic, whoever) are afraid to embrace it. You can do it! Your hair is beautiful and so are you!

Love, Imogen <3

So angry, so tired, so hungry so MAD!

Hello Dear Readers,

I'm so MAD right now because I'm at my fiance's lab. His LABORATORY-well at least the one he has to work in for today...

If you say "laboratory" with a British accent: "La-BORE-i-tree" it sounds really romantic~*~*. But let me tell you, there's nothing remotely romantic about it!

2 weeks ago, I actually saw a Huge RO@CH carcass on the main floor of the university! I almost just died...I mean come on!

So anyways, yes, why a Laboratory is NOT romantic:

1. Bugs- the scuttle out from around chairs, or you'll think you're safe until you see a carcass. Ewww!!!

2. THIS particular lab is Grimey. It's like, have the students never heard of the word "mop" or "soap" ?

3. The students who regularly work in the lab, are absolute gargoyles. I mean, they are AWFUL women who scream and bicker and let their children run around the lab and fall onto the floor that is littered with shards of broken glass. And those ...gargoyles...have just really been verbally abusive. I wish I could act as childishly as they do and throw a punch! Or at least a good hard slap! Whap! But...I'm a grown up lady and I will not sink to their level. Plus I'm trying to be good, like 2 of my strong female role models: Mrs. Duggar & Victoria Beckham <3 (odd pairing?) But anyways: Yes people, these gargoyle are future professors. There are mental degenerates in all factions of life. Academia seems full of them for some reason. I guess I'll have to keep my identity semi-secret, bc I want to go to grad school. :D So yes, Why laboratories aren't romantic: 1. Horrid Bugs 2. Grimey work space 3. Mentally degenerate gargoyles I guess those are the top 3 reasons. I just had to get that off my chest. In MY world, the laboratory would be clean. It would be a space with wood and glass, letting in sunshine and smelling faintly of "pinesol". It would be filled with Jules Verne-esque aparati, lots of glass bobbles bubbling away with iridescent slightly viscous liquid or softly erupting with voluminous translucent vapors, pouring down the sides. Highly erotic...if you like that sort of thing. I guess it's not erotic at all actually. But to me it is, so whatever! Maybe that's why I 'm with a scientist. Ok, so anyway. There'd be copper & gold instruments, and I'd be wearing a Victorian ensemble, complete with corset. Think Mina in "Bram Stoker's Dracula" when she's out walking on the street and she drops her perfume and Dracula catches it. I'd be wearing THAT outfit. Even the jaunty little hat. And I'd have on an apron: also Victorian style.

(Winona Ryder in Bram Stoker's Dracula, 1992, Columbia Pictures)

And then the Sicilian (my fiance) would come behind me in his round gold rimmed spectacles and gently ask me to pass the "beakers". And I would shiver. (I kind of like science talk...you know, it's just kind of hot, I'm not even sure what a "beaker" is) Then he would whisper on the back of my neck that he loved my ability to ...do scientific stuff...then I'd giggle and then my own gold wire rimmed glasses would fog slightly (think Tiffany gold glasses..I'm not a scientist and I don't wear glasses...but whatever).

Then he'd proceed to plant kisses above my chaste high necked collar. And I'd turn around affronted "Mr. Sicilian! Please! This is highly unusual!" (heh heh heh)


Then he'd turn me around in a blaze of fiery passion and our kiss would burn off all our clothes! And then he'd carry me upstairs to his bedroom, which was clean, and smelled of masculinity (Stetson Black cologne) and soap and wood, and then he'd....well, you know where this is going! Yes! So romantic!

But back to reality:

My Sicilian is diligently staring at his computer, 1 foot away from me as I write, shaking his head because, unbeknownst to me, I started laughing hysterically and drooling while reading the above story. I'm cold. I'm jittery because I'm on the constant look-out for horrid bugs. I'm still amped up from our run-in with the laboratory gargoyles and I wish I'd worn shoes instead of my flip-flops so I could try to ignore the grime.

:(

But later on we are getting to have restaurant pizza & a movie & wine coolers after this! While we move into our new apartment! Hooray!

Talk to you soon~