The Skin I'm In.

So, a recent trip to the beauty salon provided me with more than the last year's worth of "The Game" reruns and Columbia gossip; I've got a new look. And, as always, with that new look come a few other "looks."

I experiment with my hair often so I'm used to it: arched eyebrows, eyeball exchanges and even rude comments. That doesnt bother me so much, I usually return the stare or laugh it off because I'm starting to get too old to hold grudges. 

Though I've adapted to the outside world, what IS starting to get under my  skin are my own thoughts.

Before I even stepped out of the chair I said to my stylist, " This is ghetto."  My stylist assured me it wasn't and in fact I've gotten positive feedback on it since I left the shop. My point, however, is that I'm not only my biggest critic, but I'm my biggest hypocrite also. I am the first one to point out that someone else is being an "ist" or practicing some sort of ism or stereotype association, but it took that moment in the chair to acknowledge that I place myself into a category before anyone else can have the chance.

As much as I preach acceptance, maybe I need to retire from the pulpit and go sit in the pews for a while.

Church