Dassit.

So I've decided. I'm getting rid of my colored contacts.

Forreal ma? That ain't yo real eyes? --Nah B. My natural eyes are black, like strong, hot, mean coffee. And they're beautiful.

My life runs by the seasons. I hate routine. I need consistent change or else I get very bored. I don't have a set "style" and I like to try on different things. I've chopped off my hair twice on impulse because I can't bear to always look the same. I don't know how long its been but I started wearing green contacts a few years ago. Not because I didn't like my natural eye color but because I wanted to try something different. I saw it more as an accessory than anything else. I personally liked the way they looked so I ordered prescription lenses and haven't gone back to clear lenses ever since. Every once in awhile, I get asked if those are "my real eyes". I mean, I understand that they're referring to the eye color but it's a stupid fucking question. What the fuck? Do they look like bionic eyes to you? There's really no point in lying so I answer truthfully and say that they're contacts. Usually I get the whole "Oh really, well they look real. Even though it's fake, it still look nice though" and it kind of annoys me. Niggah be real and say you're disappointed. It never really bothered me though until more recently, when I started being asked more frequently and then it got me thinking,

Wait a minute. What's wrong with my natural eye color? 

Green, blue, hazel and pretty much every non-black shade of eye color is seen as beautiful, setting a high standard for ideal facial features, but what if our western conception of beauty is everything that is non-black period? I may be going on a limb here but on behalf of minorities, maybe this is why we hate ourselves. Every time we dye our hair blond or put on a fresh pair of color contacts, maybe there is something inside telling us that we are not beautiful in our own shade; in our own curls. We don't set a definition. We comply to the notion of "white beauty" by unwillingly masking our very distinctions and in the end, when we're standing, carrying every conception of western beauty; barley scratching the standard, we are nothing but imitations. Let me tell you something, that fucking hurts.

Fuck.That.Shit.

My dark eyes are beautiful because they are dark as the tree bark of papa's plantation, because they are dark as the humid-Dominican night sky, because they are dark as a cup of  Bustelo, waking my mother in the morning, because they are dark as the sap that falls out the platanos and dark as they are ripe.

I'm Going to be a Terrible Mother

I don't plan on having any kids anytime soon but I do admit that sometimes when I have to babysit or look after someone, I get excited. I call it "Mommy training". Acknowledging that I am a adult, in her mid- twenties, living in her prime and incredibly selfish, I feel like I need to mentally prepare myself for the day I give my mind away. This weekend I'm looking after my friend's daughter Sofia. She's ten years old, adorable and super smart. Best of all, because her mother only cooks organic and/or minimally processed meals, she looks like a normal ten year old and not a ten year old stuck in an eighteen year old body. Jesus, have you seen these tweens lately? Just take away their privilege of speaking and you'll have women before you. That's why the more I hang with Sofia, the more I realize that she is exactly how I want my daughter to be. I honestly could just kidnap her, preserve my vagina, skip through the terrible twos, threes ,fours, fives, sixes etc... and raise her in this critical moment of womanhood. Though I will admit that raising a teenage daughter is fucking terrifying, especially with their hormones exploding everywhere. I think that's why when teenagers go through puberty, mothers go through menopause. It's like they suck all the hormones out of the room until you see it popping in their acne, voices and their swelling, gender defying regions. God, if you exist, please help me raise my children to have morals and manners so that they become productive members of our society. In other words, please send me nerds. If you can't, it's okay I'll train them. I still have my Super Nintendo , N64, GameCube, some Batman comics, Nova specials and a recording of Discovery Channel's "How The Universe Works". I got this.

My mother recently mentioned how extremely happy and proud she was of  my sister and I and  how we turned out to be. I would of taken her pride more seriously but the reality is, she's just proud that my sister and I got through college without getting pregnant. Want to know an effective way of practicing abstinence? Grow up with a mother that constantly reminds you that you are investment, promises to denounce you if you ever got pregnant and (my favorite part) randomly hold string "virginity tests" as soon as you start dating.

Yup. I just said virginity test. Not the logical (and convenient) pregnancy test. That would have been just too normal.

So what the fuck is a string virginity test? It's when a crazy old fashion woman (probably from the Caribbean) takes a string, measures your neck with it, asks you hold the string with your teeth and then tries to see if the loop goes past your head. If it does, it means you are not a virgin. I can not make this up. Google this shit.

A special note to my future boyfriend/husband regarding my complicated sex drive: I am so,so sorry. 

Will I do this to my daughter? Abso-fucking-lutley. Again, have you seen these fucking tweens lately? If I'm going to invest all my time into someone that is practically the miniature version of myself, I expect her to succeed in the things that I didn't. I'm trying to build a legacy here.

A special note to my future daughter: I am not god. If you think free will applies to you, it doesn't. Now go reset your Super Nintendo and start Super Mario World  all over again. This time you will beat the game with all 96 exits and without a single tear in your eye.

Damn, Getting Old Sucks

My grandmother returned from DR on Tuesday. It's nice having her around but ever since my grandfather passed, she's starves for attention. The first week, she's usually happy, satisfied with her sleeping arrangements and verbal about living improvements (e.g running hot water, no blackouts) but then she starts feeling sick, or dizzy rather  and spends the majority of the day rocking her chair in the living room counting the hours with the programs on Univision. Don't mean to go on a tangent here but I swear, about 99% of people who watch Univision are either widowed,old and/or both. I don't understand why most of the women on Spanish programming dress in revealing  attire when the majority of their viewers don't even remember having a libido.  Seriously, the women are ridiculously attractive for no reason. Where the hell do they find them? Is there a town in Mexico that genetically breeds them for Novelas and news stations ? That being said, I refuse to watch Primer Impacto. Why? Because the last time I checked, I dont remember wanting any titis with my news.

Girl I know you have some fine apples, but how am I supposed to pay attention to this terror alert when your lovelies are screaming borders with their cleavage. Do me a favor and button up your shirt.

It's hard to look at my grandmother now and see her somewhat peaceful after last seeing her six months ago at my grandfathers memorial. I expected her to be super emotional but when the ceremony was over she starting yelling at my grandfathers picture, which was the centerpiece of the living room. She screamed at his smiling face saying how much she missed him, how he left her alone and now has no desire to live. She then turned to me and said, "Danessa , I'm alone in this world. I have no mother or father and now, no husband". My eyes were already swelling but at that point, the tears came down and I held her and told her it wasn't true.

If there is anything that I learned after losing both of my grandfather's (both sides) and grandmother (father's side)   in the same year, is that grandparents are like wisdom teeth; sometimes you're born with them, sometimes you're not but eventually, they have to come out. All at once or one at a time. 

I miss visiting my grandparents (father side) on the weekends. They had a one bedroom apartment in Spanish Harlem and my parents, sister and I would visit on Sundays, play Russian roulette with my grandmothers cooking and stayed until the 6 o clock news came on Univision. We didn't do much. I pretty much napped in my grandparents room or talked to my sister and laid on their bed until dinner was ready. 

My aunt is the only person living in the apartment now. I went to visit her recently and the apartment felt hollow even though the furniture hadn't move.