So Unpretty

Glad to serve my tea sippers once again this week.

You all went ballistic over “Bree’s Personal Tea: The Matrimony”! Yes, it is all facts, and yes, everything did go down just like that.

A few of you wanted to know where Q and Andrea are now. I don’t have an answer for that because I haven’t heard from the two since early January of this year.

I assume she has had her baby by now, and shoot, maybe they worked it out.

They can rejoice and be idiots together.

It is imperative to observe that Andrea lacked three characteristics that every woman, and man, should always keep intact:

Self-confidence, self-love, and self-worth.

(If you need a refresher of last week’s tea, feel free to read “Bree’s Personal Tea: The Matrimony” and return here.) 

With any strong woman or man, they weren’t always that strong to begin with. Experiences break you, make you, and mold you into the person you should, and most of the time, need you to be.

Sometimes, having your confidence, love, and worth in yourself makes the process a bit easier.

Let’s get into tonight’s raw brew of tea.

So Unpretty

 It all began in the third grade at Oak Grove Elementary in my hometown of Miami.

I already had the breast of a high schooler, with a grown woman’s set of hips to match. And my posterior was way too big for my own good.

But that was me. Uniquely me.

And I hated it.

My sight wasn’t all that great, so of course I had a pair of glasses on my young face. And when I smiled it sure was pretty, until you zeroed in into my buck teeth.

While most young kids didn’t come to their sense of identity at this age, I was already in tune with mine. I knew that what I seen in the mirror everyday was something I didn’t want to deal with for the rest of my life.

When most girls wanted the overdeveloped body I had, I wish I could cut it all off of me. I often wondered how painful it would be to cut my breast off with a pair of scissors just so I could live normally.

I was only 10, I didn’t deserve to have grown me starting at me like I was a piece of meat. Grilling me with their piercing eyes as my thighs would jiggle as I would power walk away from their eyesight.

Things couldn’t stay this way.

I got braces the summer before entering the sixth grade, and that wasn’t too bad. The beginning of my middle school era wasn’t entirely rough until I entered the seventh grade. I was teased for my curvaceous figure, often feeling like I needed to be skinny to be liked. To be paid attention to.

To be wanted.

I often always wore a jacket or a sweater to cover my enormous rack of a chest. I didn’t have time to be cussing every boy out when they could ask if they were real, or when they asked to touch them and most horribly, grab one and attempt to run away.

Back then, all I wanted was to fit into a nice Hollister shirt. I would walk by the store every time I went to the mall and wanted to cry, because my breast would not allow the shirt to fit me right.

A damn Hollister tee.

I always was a social butterfly, so making friends was never a problem. I had crushes here and there after my childhood sweetheart & I broke up at the end of sixth grade. My personality was loud, bold, and sometimes boisterous, and it would never allow to portray the illustration of how poorly I felt about myself, all because I valued other people’s opinion of myself, instead of, indeed, listening to & loving myself.

I was great at hiding my pain. I was excellent at hiding my low self-esteem.

Freshman year of high school at North Miami Beach Senior was a year to remember. Of course, my shape didn’t go anywhere, my breast only got bigger, and unfortunately, I caught the attention of upperclassmen that probably didn’t care what the heck my name was.

They just knew they had to have me.

I kept my distance, and kept my close girlfriends right up under me.

I finally got contact lenses within the first month of ninth grade, and my braces came off back in eighth grade, so my confidence really did improve. My style skyrocketed and I cared more about my appearance.

But my breasts were still a problem. I still wasn’t 100% in love with me, and it was still an issue.

It was in this time period I met my high school sweetheart.

We’ll call him Dread.

Dread was a sophomore who transferred from Booker T. Washington Senior. Our two and a half year relationship ended horrendously, but he has always had a soft spot in my heart (until earlier this year).

Dread & I had a very innocent relationship, and even though I felt comfortable with him, I never felt comfortable enough to share my deep issues with him.

Or no one, for that matter.

Only my momma.

For years because of my breast, I suffered excruciating back pain. So for years, my momma went back and forth with our health insurance to see if they would cover a breast reduction surgery.

For years, they said no. They considered the procedure to be “cosmetic”.

Nonetheless, my breast in a way, still did not get in my way of actually trying to enjoy my life. I was a flagette in my high school band, active in different clubs and organizations, and overall, I was a happy person. Being in the band helped me shed a few pounds; so once again, my confidence did start to increase.

Yet, the dark issue of totaling love myself was still eating at me.

I was in this relationship with Dread loving the hell out of him, but I didn’t care as much for me.

I hid all my insecurities so well that they end up overtaking me in the end.

Or maybe they began to show.

Dread eventually left me for an upperclassmen chick who was giving it up, even though he never pressured me. Not to mention, in the two and a half years of dating him, I found out he had a baby.

A two and a half year old baby at that.

My confidence that I had a “man” who was “loving me for me” shattered the shit out of me. I hit rock bottom mentally, and I was only left to pick up my pieces.

If I didn’t love me, how could he?

My life changed in June of 2009.

I was a month shy of my sixteenth birthday, and I finally got approved to get my breast reduction surgery.

It was then, after a week of healing after the surgery and going to my follow up appointment, is where I discovered that I was a new person.

“Here are your new breasts!” My surgeon exclaimed.

I raised myself off the table and looked in the mirror, and cried. I cried hard, but it was buckets and buckets of tears of joy, because it was then, at that moment, I could call myself beautiful for the very first time in fifteen years.

Isn’t that sad?

God finally answered my prayer. I felt so much better about myself, and I was able to rock my Sweet Sixteen dress that fit me gorgeously that next month.

And of course, many Hollister tees that I could rack up.

My relationship after Dread was a very close one to me. It began a couple of months before my senior year.

We’ll call him Quad.

Quad knew everything about me, even things I didn’t feel he was worthy of knowing. But “love” is something else, isn’t it?

It wasn’t until one day I overheard his homeboy asking him, “Don’t you go out with that fat hoe named Brittany?”

The confidence I once built for myself after damn near seventeen years, came crashing down.

Hell, my own man didn’t stand up for me.

All he did was chuckle and say, “Come on, man”.

I then began to wonder if everyone thought I was a hoe because of the way I was shaped. Like they just thought I got this body from being bodied.

They never thought to think about genetics.

I couldn’t make this man love me, protect me, or stand up for me.

I needed to love me, protect me, and stand up for me.

Red flags stood out to me later on in my college years, being in arguments with Quad and he would call me names. It came to an all-time high when I dated my last boyfriend, who we will address as Twan (you’ll hear more about him later), and how whenever he got the chance, he would meaningfully call me dumb and stupid, among other disrespectful terms.

Yet I was in college.

And as hard as I got it together and loved myself, whenever he said it, it would still hurt.

I didn’t love me hard enough. After all, I was still there.

Self-worth, ladies. 

What would ever make you think it is okay to let someone down you out any chance they got and believe that they loved you?

Do you love yourself enough to recognize that? To comprehend that and act on that?

I’m proud to say that after twenty-two years of living, I’m solid. After ridding myself from Twan and his verbal obscenities, I became Teflon. I became bulletproof. Yes, it was because of him that pushed me to want better for myself, but I needed that experience to be the woman that I am today.

If anyone knows the struggles of self-esteem, it’s me. Ladies and gents, it starts with self.

I will tell everybody and anybody, that before entering any relationship, it is imperative to have the contents of you together, molded, and healed.

If you view yourself as so unpretty, chances are, he will too. 

If a man calls you out your name, especially more than once, please recognize this isn’t love. This isn’t a way to keep you “in check”. That “in check” shit is disrespect. Recognize your self-worth and tell that sucker that it WON’T work. Stand up for yourself, preserve what you have of yourself, and MOVE ON.

No matter how long it takes, love the hurt out of you. Love yourself so hard that the hurt won’t have any choice but to run out of you. Stop comparing yourself to a woman who may be smaller than you l, and stop comparing yourself to a man who may have more money than you. The grass is NOT always greener on the other side. Appreciate what is in front of you! If everyone was to write down their complaints on a piece of paper and throw it into a hat, chances are, you would pick up your piece of paper back so quick after seeing what other people face and go through!

Why do you think you are exempt from loving yourself despite your flaws? How do you want a man to love you despite your flaws and the level of love from yourself and within yourself self is at a piss poor position? Ladies, get it together! Can’t nobody love you and treat you like YOU- I don’t care how much money he has and how much penis he may be slanging. You can mess around and invest all this love into a man and not into yourself, and if that same man leaves you, you won’t have a damn thing for yourself and nothing left of yourself. Invest that same time you would into a man, into yourself!

You’ll be surprised what people see in you that you don’t even see in yourself. There is a time in everyone’s life where you must self-check and evaluate yourself. That time may be NOW for you.

It doesn’t take overnight to get things together, but I put it on everything, it is worth it. To wake up confident in yourself, loving what you see, and knowing that you are worthy of the absolute best- it helps you get through the hard times easier.

Now don’t get me wrong, we all have our bummy days and where we feel butt ugly. That’s normal. But the difference is knowing not to bask into what may be a temporary feeling for that day. You better know that you are bad as they come! You stay preaching it to the next female and to the next negro who wants to get at you- preach that to yourself! Who are you really proving it for?

To this day, I have quotes written on the mirrors in my room. When I was at the lowest point of my life, reading and saying aloud those quotes is what got me through, along with the strong presence God has in my life.

Tell yourself, you are beautiful, even when you don’t feel it, even when you don’t believe it. Because one day, you will. One day you will see it, breathe it, and speak it. Put in that work to BE IT!

You believe everything a man tells you, don’t you? Then believe what you are telling yourself! Believe that there is beauty in you! And forget any man or woman who can’t see it within you. That’s not your job nor your worry.

I loved myself for the very first time at fifteen years old. I wish I could tell young girls all around the world that no matter how different you might seem to be physically, baby girl, you are beautiful. No matter if you are skinny, plus sized, buck tooth, cross-eyed, deaf, blind, pigeon toed, knot kneed, bowlegged, or you have an amputation.  It doesn’t matter if you grew up poor, rich, or if you are dealing with an illness. There is beauty in anyone and everyone, and it’s up to that individual to see it.

My momma always made sure to say she loved me and that I was the prettiest and most beautiful girl in the world.

It still took me fifteen years to open my eyes and see it. 

My breast reduction is what I needed medically, and I know plenty of ladies who are in dire need of one too. All I ask, is that before you go under the knife, find the beauty in YOU.

Don’t let the knife define you. 

Ladies and gents, be sure that it is you who defines you. With love, confidence, and self-worth all in between.

In the words of TLC,

“But if you can’t look inside you

Find out who am I too

Be in the position to make me feel 

So damn unpretty…”

Love goes a long way. Self-love is everything. Make your life filled with longevity, and beauty too.

I am a pretty raw and transparent person when it comes to self-confidence, self-love, and self-worth. I kind of see myself as an advocate for it. More so, because I have personally been there. Should you need any personal advice from me, I can be reached at I don’t bite, I promise 🙂

Until next week, my beauties. ♥

You know the drill!

IG: salutemeorshootme_juicy

Twitter: @OhEmGee_SoJuicy

#TeaBreeAndBreathe #TBB


2 thoughts on “So Unpretty

  1. Jazmin says:

    This post is very inspiring and I believe very on point and needed! It’s real, and the sugar coating is no where to be found.once again you have wowed me and inspired me all in one breath or one it!

    • I’m glad that it was just as inspiring as I felt it would be! As women, we have so much in common that’s it’s amazing, including insecurities. I’m glad to be that woman to speak on it truthfully. Thank you for supporting and reading, beautiful woman!!! 😘😘😘

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