Naked Truth; Fearful Blogger

I attended because three of my Sistas were the hostesses.

No one plans parties better than my friends.  The venue, a fabulous house, was elegantly decorated with floral arrangements more majestic than those found in 5-star hotels; the food was catered by an African American catering company who has the unique skill of making country, Southern cuisine taste as good as grandma’s but look ready for a gourmet magazine photo shoot; the attendees were connected and respected.

But, I dread these types of events: the forced exchanges, fake smiles, the feeling that people are dissecting me somehow: what I’m wearing, how I’m speaking, and my “qualifications” to be there amongst them.  This blog illustrates how my brain works: I’m typically not interested in small talk.  What the heck do you think about this latest Trump fiasco?  Natural hair?  Women’s Day?  Whatever.  I want…

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