You Will Never Guess What I Saw! - A Collection of Short Stories

"A Whole New Meaning"

I was talking with my sister about the latest craze in abbreviations: SMH. She told me that she discoverd what it means... by way of a customer in her store.

She was talking to one of the girls she works with while putting away shoes. "Grace", she said, "do you know what 'SMH' means? It's all over Facebook". Before Grace could answer a customer was like "Smuh? It's Smuh, like ugh! You use it the same". Everyone in the store is trying to suppress their giggles while Grace subtly enlightens them both, "Sweetheart, it's Shaking My Head".

Luckily, the customer got a laugh out of it himself. But *our* new thing? Girl, it's Smuh!

"Shimmy with me Africa!!"

Friday was Mrs.G's birthday and to celebrate she invited us girls out for sushi. The restaurant and atmosphere were fabulous. I knew this in advance so I figured that I would dress accordingly. Black dress with bright red accents. Plus my stunner studs! You already know.

After dinner, we trekked to a delightful spot called Level. When you go there at night in the spring and fall, they take all of the panes out of the windows. It's so chic!

We go upstairs and a very obviously gay man (who was so sweet and deliciously fun) was giving me the eye. I wave and apparently that opened the gates to hugs, European kisses, Latin dancing, and yes, a shimmy. He was so great and even nicknamed me "Africa". I heart you, Brian from L.A.

"Street Walker"

I spent a ton of Saturday night hoofing it around this fair city. I had forgotten how much I loved the lights, the energy, and the hustle of the people until I set out to each new destination. I was on my way back to my car when I realized that I was no longer in the Stilettos district and I was firmly planted in Birkenstock district.

It was fun to have the locals eye me with jealousy, wondering which fabu party I *must* be headed to. I loved the way the men stared as I passed them leaving the deep scents of chocolate, white peony, patchouli and vanilla behind me. I loved the glares from the other girls covered to their flip-flopped toes in over sized sundresses.

I... almost broke a heel. Apparently, they don't believe in repaving the sidewalks out there in the Birkenstock district. Gravel reeks havoc on the balls of ones feet and munches a stiletto's heel to dust. But that's OK because before the night was over I got a "Oh my gosh! How are *you* doing?". Who cares if he never calls, that guy made my night.


"Don't Be a Slave"

Once a month, Big Poppa and I will go to the comedy club for some laughs. This past Wednesday, we did our usual do. He wore dark jeans, a lavender shirt, and gorgeous crocodile shoes. I wore an orange ruched dress, new turquoise baubles, and my killer J. Simp gold paintbrush platforms. We looked stellar as always.

Side note: Whenever I'm with Big Poppa I feel like a rockstar. He never hesitates to tell me how beautiful I am. It helps, of course, that I put my best foot forward and aim to make the other guys jealous, but it does help to know that he appreciates it.

The show was hilarious and we had a great time. He learned the art of getting cheap drinks and I learned to keep my mouth shut when women walk by in horrendous outfits. I mean, seriously!

One woman wore leggings (as pants!) that had cut outs in them from her ankle to her thigh. Really? Really?!? And then she paired it with a t-shirt. Really? Do they not have mirrors where she lives? Did she not pass a pane of glass?

Then there was the frumpy mother. Or grandmother. Or spinster more likely. She's a plus-sized girl like myself. But when I want to step out, I pull something spectacular from my closet, usually purchased from SizeAppeal.com. Sheeeee wore black gauchos (!), a faded olive green woven halter top that was too big and sagged around her chest and back (ugh!), and black espadrilles (harrumph!). To make it all worst, she hadn't done her hair or makeup. Aaaaaand she had toilet paper on her shoe!

Now I'm a nice person, so I definitely helped her get the toilet paper from her shoe. And I didn't express my concern over her wardrobe choices. But if there were anything at all that I would have said, it'd just be to wear clothes that fit. If you try to hide your body it looks like you're wearing a tent. And then I would slap the shit out of her skinny friend who looked impeccable.