Reduction and Conversions….

I was depressed the other day.  Really, because I was cheap.  I am so cheap and easily stress that I refuse to buy a scale.  I lied to myself that lie everyone who is thick uses when they work out, “I’m doing it for my health” and then proceed to eat something that Billy Banks would bark at them about.  So yeah, I’m in the Motherland, yeah I sweat a gallon a day, I drink only water, and I run 3 miles everyday—well every other day, or more so I complete 3 miles on a consistent basis (running majority of the way), but I gets my workout on.

So when I snuck in the store and stepped on a pre-packaged scale real quick before the manager would catch me, I watched the hand rotate around and I groaned at the result.  80 pounds.  And on this bootleg scale system the hand went around one full time before landing, 100 plus 80, 180 pounds.  The same that I left home with.  Five months in Africa and ain’t nothing changed.

So I got depressed, ate some friend chicken, listen to some Mo’Nique, watched Phat Girls, and decided this was the life for me.  Now, I feel healthier, thought I looked it too…but WHATEVER, the scale hasn’t moved and if its my destiny to be 180, then I’ll be 180 with some chicken wings, not a damn salad.

The next week I passed a man with two weight scales on my way to work.  I put up my hand and shook off the many trying to make me purchase the damn enemy to be in my bathroom and my driver started laughing.

“He doesn’t sale scales!”  He told me gesturing the man to follow me in the building…

Turns out that he does drive by weigh-ins.  Yeah.  You pay him a dollar and he will weigh you.  Turns out that Dennis the driver has outstanding credit.

“Check it out!” He says and pushes me on the scale.  I cringe, sigh and step on the scale.

78 pounds, hand went around…total 180…

“WAIT.” The scale man pulls out his calculator. I look at him like what the mess?  I know I’m thick; I don’t need a calculation to figure that out.

2.2 he says…times 2.2

Ugh?

Turns out in my American education, that little part where my teacher explained the metric system I decided to ignore that lesson because I knew that I would be in England ever measuring anything.  How about I FORGOT to convert kilograms into pounds.  HOW ABOUT, I’m not 180 pounds.

I came to Africa 185…. as of today, 171….

Did I dance a gig in the office….

Did I order some French fries to celebrate? Hey, I am just doing this thing to get healthy…

Me and a student at the Freshman Matriculation…..he plans to graduate soon, i hope my class doesn’t change those plans…

I have a big decision to do with my blog.  Do I make it entertaining or do I make it real.  For those who know me and love me, you want it real, but if love you back I always keep a smile on my face even when the weight on my back it too much.  I haven’t written or updated my blog because it would be a lie.  Even the recent story although funny was void of that flair that I usually have…that spark that makes it seem that I am sitting in front of you telling you everything that must happen.

So this note is let you know that your girl went and is still M.I.A. and although I am missing, trust me I am in action.  I told my friend here, it was time to crouch and he looked at me like I was crazy…but in true African nature, each important point is emphasized by a story.

When a lion or tiger (I don’t know okay, I should have paid more attention in zoology) is ready to feed, they just don’t go out and grab anything.  They wake up, strength, and then survey their area.  They look for a place to go where they are unnoticed and they stay there for a while. To anyone else it seems that they have blended in with their surroundings, perhaps resting, sleeping or dormant.  But the lion knows (I think lion, for some reason I keep thinking Simba) it is actually crouching, leaning on its action legs ready to pounce and ready to kill.  After this survey, finding a solid target one that will satisfy the lion’s desires…then he will jump.  He will change his circumstances…he will not be in the same place, but totally removed and in a better position, one that pleases him.  Because the lion had a chance to survey, determine, plan, decide and then act.

I’m crouching…

Get back to you soon….

“Math is easy as T”

Really?  I’m looking at his T-shirt shaking my head.  Do I really tell this youngin’ that there is no T in the English alphabet that has two lines and that symbol is Pie…the math symbol for 3.14. 

See, a shirt says a million words.  And we as Americans wear the words we don’t feel like saying branded on our chest, rocking our statements to speak louder than our voices.  The problem is when these shirts become to small or outdated we donate them to any trash that makes us feel good in the name of charity.  And the truth of the matter is that someone’s trash is another person’s treasure.

But there are a couple moments that have caught me up in confusion, trying to make sense of something crazy.

For instance, seeing an African with the shirt “100% Latino” made me even question are there Mexicans in Africa?

Another shirt, “Kiss Me, I’m Irish” I was willing to let go, even though the man who was wearing it was the complexion of licorice and I wanted to know if there was any OTHER nationality in his blood line.

I have seen three “Alpha Kappa Alpha” shirt in gleaming pink and green. I wanted to skeeweet them, even though i am a passionate Delta…just to see the reaction.  I doubt anything would have happened since they were all MALES in AKA gear, hmmmm I figured they weren’t really members of the organization.

But the one that took the cake for me is when Justin went shopping.  I could tell because everyday he had to wear a BRAND new outfit.  And today when he showed up for work, smiling and gleaming I had to stop. 

I asked him did he know what his shirt meant and he grinned, smiling in true pimp mode and nodded yes.  So asked him did he break up with his girlfriend Doris, he shook his head no.  I then went and got my camera and snapped a picture of his new proudful shirt….

And then after that, I told him what it meant.  He ran home and I haven’t seen the shirt since.