Monthly Archives: February 2016

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The Joys of Being Single and Maybe Not…

Yes, I proudly wave my single girl flag and shout it from the roof tops. The truth is, while I want to be in a relationship, being in a relationship doesn’t define me. I am perfectly happy going to concerts, dinner, and social outings by myself, but is being single all it’s cracked up to be?

I am totally comfortable and happy with being single and living life by my terms; however, there is a part of me that is longing to be a wife and mother. I look at my friends who are married, engaged, have kids, or dating and think “yeah them, but why not me?” Why am I over here, trying every dating site, app, happy hour and mixer in the world to find someone and I am still fucking single? Is the universe conspiring against me? Is this a mid-term exam? Is there anyone out there for me? Bueller? Bueller?

Don’t get me wrong, I love my independence. I can go wherever, whenever, and do whatever I want no questions asked. But at the end of the day, Battista and Bean are not the best conversationalists. They are more concerned with meals, snacks, tummy rubs, and kisses. It’s great, but it’s not enough. They don’t replace human interaction. It just feels like there is something missing in my life. It would be nice, really nice, to come home to someone, to share experiences, talk, snuggle, travel, to live life with. How do I overcome this hellacious paradigm of wanting to be free but wanting to settle down? Is it possible to really do both?

We hear it all the time that women can have whatever they want. But what if the two things that you want inherently contradict each other? I am independent now because I am single, have my own place, car, and job. When I do get married and have children, people will be dependent upon me. So does that make me independent or dependable? Alice is officially down the rabbit hole with this one folks.

Maybe this internal hysteria is coming from my lack of success in finding Mr. Right. Maybe it is the fear of the unknown. How will I deal with being in a relationship when I have been alone my entire life? What kind of wife will I be? Will I be a good mother? Has my Mr. Right been hit by a Mack truck without me even knowing it? At this point I have more questions than answers which is not helping my anxiety. What I do know now, is that this “being single” part of my life will not (fingers crossed) last forever. And I am doing pretty good at it. And one day (knock on wood), my Mr. Right will come sauntering into my life, sweep me off my feet, and make me a happy wife and mother. One day. And then I will begin to define myself as a married women and mother, just as I have learned to define myself as a single woman. But for now I’ll be over here, being single and looking for a good therapist or a great pint of vegan ice cream.

Later Days,

B

Relaxation Through Kniting on the Chestnut Hill East Train

Public transportation is a glorious thing, especially when you are trying to get 50 thousand things done in a day. Thankfully, I live within walking distance to a train station and take regional rail to and from work every day. My ride is approximately 30 minutes each way which gives me an hour of “what to do with my life time.” I used to read, learn Spanish, troll Facebook, and post on Instagram during my commute while being surrounded by total strangers who I see very day, but now I put my time doing good use. Now I knit.

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My normal knitting situation

At first it was a means to an end. I was working on a rather large project with a strict deadline and needed to find time in the day to work on it. “Why not bring it on the train? You have nothing else to do with your time,” I thought to myself. I was a little apprehensive about working on it outside of my house and/or the yarn store. Would I be starred at? Would the constant clicking of my needles piss someone of? Would it get messed up? Would it end up smelling like the train? A thousand thoughts ran through my head, but in the end, into the bag and onto the train my knitting went.

And what a glorious decision it was. Soon, my ride wasn’t so bad. With each passing knit and purl stitch, my anxiety and stress disappeared. In the morning, I would walk into work with a feeling of accomplishment, and by the time I get home, I could actually function and not just sit on the edge of the bed contemplating the meaning of life while simultaneously trying to muster up enough energy to feed the dog, let alone workout.

I didn’t think anything of it. I was in my own little world on the Chestnut Hill East train. Ellie Goulding, Adele, Hillsong United, and Hamilton all provided the soundtrack for my knitting time. I soon figured out that if I sat down and got started right away, I could get three rows (153 stitches per row, you can do the rest of the math) done before my stop. Soon, the rows added up and the blanket, which I thought I was never going to finish, was simply perfect. One day, while taking a break to untangle my skeins, I noticed a young woman crocheting a scarf. A small smile appeared on my face and I said to myself, “There is someone else like me. Welcome to the club.”

And what are the side effects of not knitting? Not good. The past couple of days have provided some pretty crowded trains and alas, no knitting time. It was not god for my soul at all. I just wanted to break out my knitting, but I couldn’t. The shame, the horror of it all. Let’s just say, I am a lot happier when I knit..

I really didn’t think that anyone was watching me until Monday when I brought a new project on the train. An older woman tapped my on the leg and said, “You have a wonderful hobby. Did you finish the other project? It was so pretty. I need to take classes. My mother used to crochet, but I never picked it up. Have a great day.” That woman has no idea how good she made me feel that morning. I wanted to hug her, but that would have been a bit much. I practically skipped into work. And that wasn’t the only place my knitting has been. This one particular project made it to Barbados and back! Talk about begin held captive to 4 hours each way!

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Knitting at 30,000 feet

So now I am a card carrying member of the “I knit in public crowd” and I am damn proud of it. I am no longer afraid to whip my knitting out on a crowded train and breathe a sweet sigh of relief when I have a seat all to myself so I can spread out . If you’re a crafty person and take the train, bus, camel, or subway for the love off all the fluffy alpacas and sheep, bring you knitting with you! You will be amazed at how quickly the ride goes, how quickly you finish your projects and how relaxed.

Now, where is that sweater pattern I put down years ago?

Later Days

B

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Sometimes you just have to laugh to keep from crying or throwing your computer across the room, or both. My sister sent to be a link to an article from 2011 titled, and I quote: “Top Twelve Reasons Why So Many Good Black Men Are Still Single”. After reading the first reason I knew, a response to this epic bullshit would make a great #singlegirlproblems post.

The post can be found here at the afro.com and the oh so “informative podcast” that is referenced, “The Victory Unlimited Show”, is well from this black woman’s point of view, the reason why any good black man who listens to the show is still single.

If you have glanced at the post and have comeback to reality, you know why I am so hype. I mean really dude? Really? My resting bitch face is so on point right now, so without any further delay here is my response to: “The Top Twelve Reasons Why So Many Good Black Men Are Still Single: (disclaimer: please do not drink anything while reading this. I am not responsible for any damage to your computer caused by your drink flying out of your mouth.)

1.) They keep meeting woman with unrealistic expectations for what they want in a man. I’m so sorry if I want a man to have a job and a place to live. Last time I checked that wasn’t unrealistic, it was called being a responsible adult.

2.) They keep meeting women who put them in the wrong category by writing them off to quickly as not being “their type”. Your type may be video vixen. I am not a vide vixen. Therefore, I am not your type. The end. It’s very cut and dry when you think of it that way.

3.) They’re not wanted because they are not needed. Too many women have told them they don’t “need” a man. I don’t need a man to pay my bills or take care of me. I need a man to be a companion, husband, father, soul mate, my other half. If you can’t handle that then guess what Boo? You’re absolutely right. I don’t need you.

4.) They keep meeting black women who don’t respect them just because they “are” black men. And I want you to respect me for being a black woman. Respect is a two-way street. To get respect, you have to give it. Plan and simple.

5.) They keep failing women’s Girlfriend Approval Test. If the woman’s friends don’t like them, then they woman won’t give them a chance either. I value my girlfriends’ opinions. They speak the truth. You may be speaking to get me in bed. Guess who I am going to trust?

6.) They keep meeting women who are not interested in them, but only in how much money they make. Then stop flaunting your money around like freakin’ Floyd Mayweather. Guess what? If all you do is buy a woman things, they will only see you as a wallet. Start being a man and she will see you as one.

7.) They’re nobody until somebody loves them. Not enough women see them as a prize unless they see a lot of other women chasing after them first.  Doesn’t your mother love you? I can’t responsible for your deep rooted, “Mommy didn’t give enough hugs when I was 4 complex”. As Mama Rupaul always says,” If you can’t love yourself, how the hell you gonna love somebody else? Can I get an Amen”? Yes, Honey. Amen.

8.) They meet too many women who don’t really know what they want. Do you know what you really want? Let’s be serious. Do you know what type of women you are looking for? You can’t say that a woman doesn’t know what she wants if you can even begin to articulate what you want.

9.) They meet too many women who believe that single, good black men are “too good to be true.” Le sigh. How many black men think a smart, single, educated black woman is too good to be true? Well here I am.

10.) They’re the right man at the wrong time. Life is all about timing. Maybe she is not into dating right now? Maybe you failed to see that she is married right now. Maybe you didn’t notice that she didn’t want to talk to you right now.

11.) They meet too many women who don’t recognize a good man when they see one. Many black men don’t recognize a good black woman when they see one. (Drops mic and walks away.)

12.) They don’t promote all the great things about themselves boldly or consistently enough to enough women. So you need to be put on a pedestal with your accomplishments scrolling behind you like movie credits for you to feel good about yourself? That sounds like a personal problem, Bro.

Not one of these reasons has anything to do with the man. Not one. It is really easy to say, I am single because everyone else it messed up. Maybe you need to get your shit together, figure out what you want in life and then go get it. That’s what you want women to do. We need to have it all. In shape, educated, financially stable, look good, smell good, dress well, hair done, nails, done, cook, clean, help you, help the family. The list goes on. But of course, as soon as this is brought to a man’s attention it’s, “Nah, we just want you to be yourself.” But when I am myself, I’m not all that you want me to be, therefore, not good enough for you. It’s a fucked up dynamic.

While you figure out what you want and please take your time, I’m gonna be over here. Still single.

Later Days,

B

Goodbye My Sweet Bella Girl

The apartment is so quiet. The daily fights, hissing, and moaning are no more. Last week, I said goodbye to my cat. Don’t get me wrong, I have experienced the loss of three dogs before, but Bella was the first pet that I got on my own. I had just moved out of my parent’s house and into my first apartment. It was cool at first being all by myself, but soon it got too lonely. I always wanted a dog, but my complex had a strict no dog policy. I was about to become a cat person.
When I walked into the ASPCA, I didn’t know what I was looking for. I went into the cat room and started to look around. And there she was. We instantly connected. The tech said that he was waiting for someone like me to adopt her. I guess we were waiting for each other. Let’s just say that was the last cuddle we had, until it was time to say goodbye.
She was never the cuddly type. It took four days for her to stop hissing at me when she first came home. She let me know when she wanted to be touched. A rub against my leg, chewing my hair, snuggling my armpit, leaping onto my shoulders like it was nothing. These simple gestures that she let me know she loved me. She has her quirks. What cat like chocolate and olives? But it made her, her.
She was such a trooper when I brought the dog home. Not a fan of the kitten. I guess she thought, “I have broken in one newbie, why do I need to do this again?” But she held her own against the Tiny Feline Terrorist. How can I forget the epic cat fights, screeching from the bathroom, and cat boxing matches?
I should have known that something was wrong. I should have known that she wasn’t sleeping in the bed at night. I should have known that something wasn’t right. I didn’t realize it until last Saturday. She didn’t want to eat. She wasn’t laying down. She didn’t look like herself. When I picked her up I knew it was bad. She had lost a lot of weight and she was letting me hold her.
After picking up some wet food in last ditch attempt to get her to eat something, I called the vet. After listing her symptoms (pale ears, pale gums, and not appetite) they told me to rush her to the nearest emergency vet. I held it together long enough to get there and make it through the initial exam. I was not ready for what I would be told. She may have cancer, kidney disease, thyroid issues, or it’s just her time. I lost it. I didn’t care who saw me cry. How could it me over so soon? It seemed like only yesterday I got her. Now I was facing the idea of going home without her.
I knew I was making the right decision. Even though she was moving, her eyes were bright, she wasn’t herself. I made the toughest decision of my life. I choose to end her suffering. What was the point of putting her through test after test just to tell me that she has some disease that couldn’t be cured? That would just prolong my agony. Even though I was given the choice to be with her, I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t be there when she took her last breath. Saying goodbye was hard enough. But I wasn’t the only one who was hurting.
Battista knew something wasn’t right as soon as I got home. Something was missing. His pal was gone. I tried to comfort him with treats and hugs, but it didn’t seem to help. He needed to grieve too.

As I sit here and type, a crying snotty mess, I remember the good times I had with her, and wish that this pain in my heart would just go away.

I would like to thank Keystone Emergency Vet on Main Street for taking care of her, and sending mw the sweetest card ever. It made me cry, but at least I know she was with caring people.

Rest well my sweet Bella girl. And keep Rascal, Rambo, and Frieda company for me.

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Love,
Mommy, Battista, and Bean

Bianca Just Being Bianca S

Welcome! Bienvenue! Willkommen! Aloha! Salve! Bem-vido! Welkom! Bonvenon! Welcome to Being Bianca S, the site formerly known as Just Bee You.

BiancaLogoYippee Skippy! I am beyond super excited about this new direction and the opportunities that it brings. After a lot of time away thanks to Frankie, I had an Oprah light bulb moment. Sometimes you have to take a step back to go forward. And I am ready to move! Why was I just limiting myself to one thing? Why was I so focused on fitness when I am so much more? Well honey child, those days are over! Being Bianca S will be all about me, my fitness journey and accountability groups, knitting exploits, and of course #singlegirlproblems has made the leap over to its new home (how could I leave that behind!). Also in the works are such epic blogs as: “What’s in my ears?” (playlist and music choices), Top 10 lists (oh the choices! Expect epic randomness), and whatever comes to mind or happens to me on any given day.

But this is not just about me, even though the site is called Being Bianca S. This site is for you too! I am excellent at sharing! If you have a topic you want to discuss, my thoughts on a particular issue, or is you would like t be a guest blogger, drop me at line at bianca@beingbiancas.com (that felt so weird, yet so cool to type).

So there you have it. I’m making sure that all the T’s are crossed and I’s are dotted, and still fine tuning this bad boy so things may move, shift, and randomly appear. But I just wanted to shout from the rooftops that my baby blog has been reborn! I am such a proud mommy right now (Don’t tell the fur kids).

So sit back, fasten your seat belt, and get ready for the wild ride that Being Bianca S. will be!

Later Days,

B