What I've Learned in My 27 Years

As of tomorrow (at 8:15 p.m. if you ask my Mom) I will be 27 years old. As I look back and reflect, 26 has truly been one of the best years of my life--mentally, physically and spiritually. Life wouldn't be so great if we didn't learn and improve along the way, so I wanted to share some of my lessons with you all.

Looking forward to a pseudo-fab 27! HAPPY BIRTHDAY NAT!!! I LOVE YOU!!!!

*CHEERS*

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1. That I'm a twin because God knew I would need someone there to make me strong, even if I didn't realize what she was doing. Couldn't ask for anyone better in my life than you. You're my heart. <3 you super much! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

2. Siblings are God’s way of knowing that you'll stumble and will need people to catch you before you fall. My sisters and brother truly are my rocks and I thank God for them everyday. <3 My Maggot and Rich the Man!!!

3. That Mommy and Daddy are not superhuman. But they are super humans. They make mistakes like the rest of us and that's perfectly OK. Which means I’m allowed to make mistakes and not kill myself over them. <3 Mommy Dearest and Daddo!!

4. That not everyone is meant to be in your life. Sometimes you just can't get along with everyone. This helps me cherish the fabulous friends I have. Love you bestie!

5. That love really isn't all you need. Love takes time, patience and effort. And a willingness to cultivate an initial spark and a commitment to that one person. It also means knowing when it's time to let go. Miss you...so happy you’re doing well…

Weighing My Options: Gus v. Chinye

I've never been the kind of girl to get poked on Facebook.

On rare occasions, I would get a male to comment on a picture that I look nice in a dress. But that was once in a while. And half of them were creeps who were trying to make me transfer illegal funds into my account.

But, all of a sudden, I'm that girl. Men openly "like" pictures of me and I receive facebook messages and chats in addition to the pokes from men I've known for years. It's disarming!

Ok, ok. So it's not so "all of a sudden."

It's about 60 pounds of weight loss.

I grapple with this pretty constantly. This attention often comes from people I've known for quite some time--years. People who have seen my weight fluctuate--always bigger than I would have liked-- and have never shown any interest.

Why should I pay attention to you now that I'm more fabulous than a little bit?!

But, on the other hand, aren't I shallow too?

The Daddy (Dis?) Advantage-- FIRST GUEST POST

Hi Boos!

I'm super excited to have my first guest blogger appear on my site! I'm sworn to secrecacy about who it is (;-) ) but I'm very excited to finally have her on The Pseudo Fab Life.

Maybe, if you leave comments and engage in discussion, she'll magically reveal herself! :-P

Happy reading! I will post for you all soon!

~Steph

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I’m in love. Head over heels, maturely, romantically, starry-eyed in love with a man…

Loved him when he was my “best friend” and fell in love with him when he became “my man”…

BUT… what I DON’T love is the “you’re a big girl, you can do it” credence he seems to have for women. Don’t misunderstand, I am a big girl. And if he weren’t around, I sure would get it done--but he’s here, so, shouldn’t HE do it?

Let me explain.

A Dream from an Admitted Non Dreamer

I don’t dream often.

I mean, I dream in the wishing sense that basketball players tell you.

“Dream, big! You can be anything you want to be…”

Like that.

But, in sleep--the type of dreams my people call reveyons—those dreams rarely ever happen to me.

Unless someone is speaking to me.

I had a dream on Sunday night. And for a non dreamer who dreams, it was a heavy one. I’ve been trying to put it together in my head for the past few days. I have stewed over it and gone to sleep early about it, praying each time beforehand that my grandmother would come again and expound. I even took a nap about it, impatient to find out what it might mean.

Let me tell you the dream…

4:46 a.m, 4:47 a.m., 4:48a.m....

I don’t know the exact moment I fell in love with him. Somewhere between the 29^th and 30^th of a certain month of a certain year after the millennium between 4:46 and 4:47 in the morning when the sun was squeezing in between the moon and the horizon to peer through my window and cast a slant of light on his chocolate face, his mouth slightly opened to leave the most subtle gusts of air on my nose as he exhaled.

And then I inhaled.

Yea, I think that’s when I fell in love with him, as I waited for the hours to pass by so that I could peer into those beautiful eyes and make sure.

Because you usually don’t know love until you see the eyes. The eyes, they burn into yours and suddenly, somewhere in between noses, that spark happens. Maybe “sizzle” is a better word. It’s a feeling so potent that the air between the two people runs away blushing, and suddenly, there’s nothing between you and his lips but that last brave breathe.

All happens in the eyes, I used to think.

HELLO to A Belle in Brooklyn Followers

I was SUPER blessed with the opportunity to be a guest blogger on my favorite writer, Demetria L. Lucas, blogger and Essence Relationships Editor and soon-to-be life coach's blog, A Belle in Brooklyn!! I'm so ecstatic!

Feel free to leave questions or comments at www.abelleinbrooklyn.com, or here at The Pseudo Fab Life! I would love to hear from you!!! I will try to get to all the comments!

I can't stop smiling, and am so blessed to share this blessing with you all!

XOXOXO!

~Steph

Crushes, Curiosity, and that Damn Cat

Let me start by saying that G-chat is the devil and the demise of productivity in the workplace. But I’m sure we all know this.

Talking with a close male friend on the never ending topic of relationships, we stumbled upon the topic of crushes that happen during a relationship. He was of the opinion that a solid relationship can be in danger if one person has a crush.

Look? Sure. Such is humanity.

Emote? Never.

And as I read the transcript of his explanation on the perils of maintaining a crush and full time beau, I couldn’t help but remember…

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He was perfect. The perfect shade of dark chocolate sans the bitter after taste; tall enough for my stiletto collection but normal enough for my nose to fit inside the crevice of his neck; cupped my face gently for a kiss but grabbed my arm and shook occasionally to signal he wasn’t playing; Mommy loved him to pieces but Daddy knew he was a bad boy somewhere inside. Thrilling, yet stable. Came with baggage but wouldn’t tolerate my dramatics. Would hop in the bed just long enough to say goodnight, and would slide out so that, when I rolled over, I’d see his silhouette as he pleaded for the words in a book to make sense by twilight, his pen air drumming between his pointer and middle fingers. Oh, and he had “the dip.” (See: “So... It Happened.. Now What?”) He read every version of every story I ever wrote.