Big to me

I already told y’all about my HIV status.

And how I can’t stand my daddy.

Hmmm.

Y’all know about these crazy ass niggas I be fucking with.

And how I ain’t got no money.

Fuck it.

Sooooo …

I boo-hoo cried in therapy this past week.

I mean –

It was one of those ugly, snotty cries.

And I don’t do that.

… at least not in front of people.

That’s usually a late night, I done got stuck in the thought of losing my mom, wake up with puffy eyes type of thing.

But this week?

In therapy?

I let her have it.

Was it because of my sometimes crippling fear of losing those close to me?

Nope.

Was it because of my irking ass coparenting relationship?

Un unh.

The HIV?

Not even.

Y’all.

.

.

.

I cried because of my fucking chin.

The bottom of my face.

With the prickly, ingrown things on it.

Actually, it’s the only part of my face I see when I look in the mirror.

Cus, it fucks with me.

I used up like 5 of those quality Kleenexes she be having on the little table next to the window.

You know, the thick ones that leave all the fuzzy pieces of quality cotton on whatever it touches.

Them kind.

So you know this was no joke.

That wasn’t even what I was there for that day.

But I broke down.

I admitted to her how much time I sit in the mirror picking at my face.

I confessed how masculine my facial hair makes me feel.

And how it hinders everything else that I have going on.

I felt stupid crying about it.

Like, Ci Ci you got so many other things to be worried about.

Worry about Geico.

Or picking your meds up from the pharmacy.

Cry about Zion and his inability to sit still when the teachers tell him to.

Why the fuck is you crying about some bitch ass hairs on your face?

You still got like 90% good face left.

Literally me talking to myself.

And with these thoughts in tow, I tried to wipe the tears and jump the subject.

Therapist lady was not going for that.

She made me sit there.

In that space of what I was feeling.

And she allowed me to feel.

Tip: Let yourself do that sometimes. It lessens the weight.

She did not minimize my feelings as I so often do to myself.

She felt with me.

And we came up with a plan.

Cus this shit is taking up too much space in my head.

What not to do: Don’t think you are alone.

I know I’m not the only one out here with a goatee and tweezers.

For one, I watch chins.

That’s just what I do.

And I be seeing you sis.

With yo fine ass.

+ Ci Ci +