My morning latte cost about $6 because I always replace cow’s milk with soy. But I usually pay $2. On days when I decide to have a pastry with my latte the price is still the same, because I’m cute.
Don’t worry, I’m not going to launch into a diatribe bragging about my features, although my eyes are pretty enchanting 😜. This is more about remembering that I’m cute.
I lived in Los Angeles for too long as a fat Black girl. LA is the most false place I have ever lived. Nothing is real, Botox shops are as popular as NYC Bodegas. Fake arses, eyelashes, hair, voices, nails, boobs, cheekbones, and conversations are the norm there. Fat Black girls also pay full price for their lattes.
But in the center of the universe where being unique is valued, the standards for what is attractive are varied. So a fat Black girl like me has had to get used to having men look at me with desirous looks. Like I have to continue to remind myself that when I am commuting that the guy on the train who keeps looking over at me isn’t necessarily trying to rob me, and that the male baristas at the cafe are flirting with me. And I let them!
I feel shallow writing this, and as of now it is my truth: it is nice having my type of beauty appreciated. It feels good, and it’s nice on my wallet.