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Great Expectations

[caption id="attachment_757" align="aligncenter" width="3264"] Me and some of the girls from Spelman College's Early College Program in 1999[/caption] I had my life planned out at nine-years-old. One Thursday night, while I was at my grandmother’s house for our weekly Cosby Show date, we discussed where I would go to college and graduate school. I knew Hillman College would prepare me to become a lawyer, an author, and a cashier. Cliff and Claire Huxtable went there. He was a doctor, and…

Silver Alert

[caption id="attachment_730" align="alignleft" width="316"] My "Grandfather"[/caption] I was shopping for nail polish at a beauty supply store, when I found out that my grandfather was missing. It was six years ago in July. My mom called and told me that no one could find my grandfather. I assumed he would return home soon. I assumed he took an "Alzheimer’s trip," a quick getaway that people with Alzheimer's disease sometimes made. My great-grandfather, on my father’s side, also had Alzheimer’s and…

Will and Ashley

[caption id="attachment_633" align="alignnone" width="471"] "Will" and "Ashley," on The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air[/caption] “You’re dead to me.” For the longest time I thought that phrase was too dramatic and should only be used in Mob movies and reality shows. But as I’ve gotten older, there are a few people in my life that I’ve had to push to the outermost limits of my brain, almost like the deepest, darkest, coldest parts of the sea. They can no longer live in the most…

VaginaGate

[caption id="attachment_623" align="alignleft" width="269"] Me, my senior year in high school. I didn't take that many pictures at school.[/caption] “Stacy, you look like you could suck dick…but your pussy is garbage,” Fernando Thompson blurted out in our school lunchroom. I was sitting at one table; he was sitting at another table in front of me. He was in my class. We were tenth-graders. I stared at him. I looked at his buck teeth. I looked at his unibrow. I looked…

Cory’s Mom Died?!

[caption id="attachment_603" align="alignleft" width="232"] Cory and her mom. (Courtesy of Cory's Facebook page.)[/caption] Monday, I was driving to the the trail, where I usually run. I parked, and before I got out of my car, I checked Facebook, for nothing in particular, just like I always do. Then BAM! One of my closest friends in middle school, posted a picture of her mother. My friend, Cory, had her arm draped around her mother’s neck. Her mom, had her head tilted in Cory’s…

I Lost a Tooth as an Adult

[caption id="attachment_560" align="alignleft" width="358"] I almost posted this selfie in May, but then realized you could see my broken tooth. I was embarrassed, so I didn't.[/caption] “Wait, are you missing a tooth Stacy?” my friend Ananda asked me. We were laughing before she noticed the hole where my tooth used to be. I was laughing so hard that I forgot that I was supposed to be hiding my flaw. My guard was down. My head was cocked back. My mouth…

Getting Over My First Love – Part 6

[caption id="attachment_420" align="alignleft" width="338"] A photo from when I went to visit Michael[/caption] “Is this Stacy?” “Yes, who’s this?” “Stacy, this is Jessica. I know you went to visit Michael in St. Louis, and I just wanna' know why the fuck you would do something like that.” I took my phone off of my ear and stared at it. "What did I get myself into?" I thought. “Uhmm…” I said, trying to figure out what to say in this situation.…

Getting Over My First Love – Part 5

[caption id="attachment_270" align="alignnone" width="2629"] Picture from My 21st Birthday Celebration![/caption] I was sitting in the waiting room at Bad Boy Records. Someone from the finance department was supposed to meet me for an interview for a summer internship. My palms were sweating. I was thinking about all of the interviewing techniques I was taught at FAMU’s School of Business and Industry. “State a few facts about the company, then ask your question.” That’s what I kept trying to repeat to myself,…

Getting Over My First Love – Part 4

“I would have done the same thing,” my friend said. She tried to make me feel better about having an abortion. She was the one who drove me to Planned Parenthood. She told me not to look when we passed the group of protesters holding up signs of gruesomely disfigured babies. When it was all over, she was the one who drove me to her house, helped me lay down on her futon, and fed me fish sticks and French…