I heard stitching tear as the super cute RB High Impact stretched over my shoulders. And the expensive white Stella McCartney bra that looked so good on the rack was so tight that I couldn't avoid smearing N70 foundation on the collar as I fought my way out of it. Black girl problems.
With a little coaxing, Arlene seized the moment and stepped on to the platform to have her gorgeous blue sunhat judged among the rest. I watched my big sister laugh and mingle with a jolly woman in a statement red hat and a blonde in an ocean blue, Jane Jetson inspired design that took first place. Everyone clapped, more champagne flowed and just like that, we were thrust into the wonderful world of polo.
My tall cup of Coconut Cream - an oolong tea with creamy coconut and lemon essence - was the perfect complement to an overdue unfiltered exchange between women. Our conversation flowed from personal projects, to parenting of our six year old daughters, to her 70-year-old mother's new ukelele-playing life in Mexico
The names Keith Thompson and KTX may not mean much to you, but chances are you'd recognize the video from Facebook or YouTube if I showed it to you. It's the one with that super hype black instructor who leads those funky cycling classes, with dance choreography and rows of black women spinning in unison.
There I was, chest high, shoulders back and quads on fire, during a charity cycling class. The sound of heavy electronic beats mixed with ‘eighties’ melodies permeated the air and drowned out my thoughts as I pressed my heels through the pedals, matching my cadence to the upbeat tempo. Then it happened. I glanced up mid-sprint and caught the reflection of my floppy girls tossing about just below the neckline of my low cut Lole top. Ugh, seriously?