Source: WENN

We often hear tales told by celebs that reveal just how damaging the entertainment industry can be on a person’s self-esteem, especially women. There’s the pressure of being thin enough and constantly having your physical appearance scrutinized by Hollywood execs. Soulful songstress Kelly Price recently opened up to the lovely ladies over at CocoaFab about her ongoing battle with weight loss and having to walk on egg shells as a “big girl” in the industry. Peep some of what she had to say below.

On her struggles with weight loss:

“I’m a big girl that comes from a big family, with a very slow metabolism and if I don’t exercise I cannot [lose weight]. Even if I’m not doing bad eating wise, I can stay the same, but I can’t lose weight. I have to stay mobile and that’s good for me because I need to keep myself moving. It’s really hard keep on track while being on the road, but I can’t go very long without feeling it. My body will remind me, ‘You have to get up and do something.’ I am grateful for that. In that sense, I’ve retrained my body to miss it if I don’t exercise.”

On why maintaining a healthy weight is important:

“To be able to use a God-given gift and to live from it and to really live well from it, I would be a fool to allow being undisciplined to cut my life short and so that’s really what it’s about. I fall off the wagon, but you know that wagon is still parked in the garage so I get back on it.”

On the industry’s cruelty towards larger people:

“I was always the fat girl. It was super extra hard because we didn’t have a whole lot [growing up], so I didn’t dress fly. I didn’t have any of that stuff happening. And then coming into this industry, I was known for being talented, but I was still the fat girl. And it wasn’t what people were looking for. There’s a lot that you hear, there’s a lot of cruelty out there. Some of it comes from the executive offices. It comes from other artists at times. It was a very difficult thing to overcome.”

On having to always portray herself as sweet and non-threatening because of her weight:

“When I first came into this business, I had to, for the sake of being able to sell myself as an artist, always be happy and jovial and smiling. I was the happy nice girl. And I am a happy nice girl, but I have my moments too. But you kind of know that you can’t afford to have a bad moment because you’re also the fat girl and you’re going to give them another reason to talk about you. “

On how she overcame it all:

“I kind of had to come into my own and again it was the realization that I came from nothing, except for my foundation in faith and I’ve been given this great opportunity. And as far as I’m concerned, that happened because God let it happen. There was no person, whether they thought I was too fat, too black, too country, too ghetto, too New York, too thug, too whatever. Nobody ultimately had the say over whether or not I was going to make it. So again, it falls back to my foundation of faith. Sometimes I gotta look in the mirror say, ‘Hey, they’re still saying you’re too fat, but you’re here. They gotta take it or leave it.’ And in most cases, if they leave it, it’s all good because they don’t need to be in my space anyway.”

Turn the page to watch Kelly’s interview and hear her sample a few lines from “Heartbreak Hotel.”

Yesterday, we posted excerpts from Tamar Braxton’s Ebony.com interview. In the interview, the singer emphatically denied rumors that she bleaches her skin. And still several folks, including some of you on this site, doubted Tamar’s honesty. So today, in response to the doubters, she posted this picture of her skin on Instagram, including a shot of her fingers where you can see her vitiligo up close.

Source: Instagram

She included this as the caption:

Although I have NOTHING to prove….I have NOTHING to LIE about! #donetalkingaboutthebleachB.S.

Personally, I don’t know why the bleaching rumors ever got so far to begin with. When a person bleaches their skin the tone no longer looks natural. (See Sammy Sosa and Vybyz Kartel.)

What do you think? Should Tamar have released these photos? Do you believer her now?

Source: WENNN

From HelloBeautiful

I remember vividly the first time I came to know the name Jada Pinkett. It was in the last days of “A Different World,” when the “The Cosby Show ” spin-off sitcom set on a Historically Black College campus was struggling to keep its freshness as it transitioned in to the early 90′s. Beloved characters Dwayne Wayne & Whitley Gilbert were all grown-up and professional, and the show’s once authentic connection to college life, youth culture and energy was dwindling. Insert Jada Pinkett’s Lena James, a powerful pint-sized freshman who boomed with energy and breathed new life in to cast. She joins the cast as a freshman, Lena James, introducing her self to the common area with a not so humble solo step routine: “L to the E, to the N, to the A, Step off, you ain’t getting no play!” From that moment on, in my 9 year-old mind, I was pretty sure I wanted to be her. She exemplified the spirit of what largely came to define the creative Black experience in the 90′s: loud, colorful and unapologetically proud. That was 20 years ago.

I find myself on the phone with Jada on a Thursday afternoon about a month ago. She’s in the process of doing promotions for “Free Angela And All Political Prisoners,” the brilliant documentary directed by Shola Lynch.  After a friend shared the film with her, Jada came on as a producer using her hollywood muscle to help get the film distributed in select AMC theaters nationwide. What I thought would be the typical 15-minute movie junket interview (abruptly ended by publicists listening in on the other end), turned in to a 90-minute phone call with the real Mrs. Smith about everything from her early relationship with her husband to why people should lay off Rihanna.

In what #TeamBEautiful has deemed the Best.Jada.Interview.Ever., we speak with the stylish and brutally honest A-lister about about parenting, dating, marriage, Black hollywood, and why America loves to hate on little girls. Check out the first of our three part series.

HB: You get a lot of criticism on the way you parent, has it ever bothered you?

JPS: You know what, I get it. In people eyes, I could see how it could be radical. It’s so funny the more I sit back and think about it, I was raised like this. It’s so natural to me–my situation was different; I had a lot of freedom. My mother worked a lot and she also struggled with drugs. So I had a lot of freedom at 12. But I also paid attention to where freedom worked and where it didn’t. One of the freedoms that I had was hair and clothes and how it completely [helped to] develop my self-esteem and sense of worth. And how, if I could dye my hair blue and shave it on the sides and deal with people remarks or smirks while I am walking to school, I’m good. To be able to stand tall in my own personal convictions for who I am and what I decided I wanted to be. And I was given that at a very early age. So by the time I got to 18 and I came out to LA, there was nobody out here that was going to pull me out of my own Jada game because I was very clear about who I am. You aren’t going to sucker me into to doing some crazy Isht I didn’t want to do. I didn’t have someone dictating to me along on what I need to be, and then at 18 struggling to figure out–I was already there. And the difference I see in Willow at 12 is, she’s got a loving father and the truth of the matter is that a girl’s emotional development is really strongly developed based on her relationship with her father. I just think of parenting at this: I don’t believe until waiting until a child is 18 to throw them to the world. I’d rather have kids in my house with me, building out certain freedoms as you go, and being there with them in my house while they are exercising these certain freedom so that we can be in the process in these freedoms together. When my children are 18, they will be fine. I don’t have to worry about them. Life starts when you pop out of the womb, and that’s what I believe!

Read more at HelloBeautiful.com

Source: Shutterstock

Our black is beautiful – hair, skin, and all. We shower our girls with praise by complimenting the richness of their cocoa, caramel, or vanilla colored skin. We massage their scalp and nurture their baby curls – from kinky to super wavy. We want our girls to respect and love themselves. We constantly fight the barrage of  criticisms our girls may be exposed to, including negative attention swarming around their hair and skin tone. Our girls need their self-esteem lifted. What better way to celebrate the love of our culture  and promote self love with our girls than through a book that our girls can relate to. Whether your little girl has a growing bookshelf or e-reader, she will want to add these must-reads to her collection.

I can remember the day I realized that you were dramatically larger than your twin.

While working at Victoria’s Secret waaaaay back in the day, I was asked to try on the new Incredible bra, and whichever ones, in whatever color fit, I could take them home for Free.99 to add to my collection. I was like a kid in a candy store.

I entered the dressing room, you know the ones with the mirrors that can move and give like every angle possible? Yeah, those were the ones I faced when I got undressed that evening. And in that room, as I stood, and as I pulled my bra off, there you sat, looking completely different than my cheap full body college mirror ever let on before.

‘What in the hell!?’

I stood there, shocked and a little sad at what I could somewhat feel for years, but honestly had never seen in this light, in this way. To have an imperfection amplified and seen even if just by myself at every turn, was a bit much. Let’s just say that the rest of the day didn’t go very well emotionally.

But who am I fooling? I could tell something was different about you for years. You made bra shopping the ultimate hassle. While my right boob was down to cooperate and sit comfy in my cups, there you were, being an a**hole again, down to clown. Instead of sitting snug, when I would bend over you would slowly but surely try to peek out of your cup, begging me to go up another cup or to tighten my straps up or adjust my band to contain you. Your behavior is what led me to leave the alluring demi bras and strapless joints behind and go full-on granny with my lingerie, opting for full coverage just to keep you in check. You were annoying, but I never thought you were THAT bad. But it was that particular day in that dressing room that I realized why you had always been a struggle–you had outgrown my right boob at a drastic level, and for me, visually, it was way too much. What was something I was initially aware of and a little shy about became something I wound up being embarrassed by, even if no one else could immediately notice or said anything about it.

And for so long, I was paranoid. I would try and dress uncomfortably in tight stalls at the gym because I wasn’t as confident as some of the women around me who wanted to go commando at the drop of a drawl to show everybody what they were working with. They could do that because their chests were symmetrically on point. And if they weren’t…well, if you’re walking around a room full of women undressed, washing your workout clothes in the sink like folks do at my raggedy gym, you don’t care whose looking at your lumps and bumps anyway. Trying to buy swimwear for my chest became a nightmare, and even when I went to visit the gynecologist, I was literally in a state of extreme discomfort. And once I became sexually active, I was very much worried about you and how the man in my life might react to your appearance.

But to my surprise, he didn’t notice. At all. If he did, he sure didn’t say anything to me. In fact, he often speaks on how he loves my body and the confidence he seems to think I have about it. I think he had me confused with someone else, but I appreciated his kind words. His support of my body image, and you, my lopsided tit, have been encouraging, but honestly, it was my own reality check to myself that made me more confident in you and my body as a whole.

What was I going to do about you? Was I going to get surgery? Was I going to hide in a stanky a** stall every time I needed to change to get my work out on because I thought someone would be looking at me? Was I going to continuously be sad about something I didn’t cause and couldn’t change? The answer to all these things was no. While I would love my chest to sit perfectly, it doesn’t and that’s fine, because I know it’s not the end of the world, and better yet, I’m not alone in the lopsided committee. And if the doctor continues to say that there’s nothing wrong with you, I’m not going to treat you like there is. I might stick with the full coverage bras for simple convenience (aye…they’ve been MAD supportive too), but you’re not going to have me doubting myself any longer.

So yes left boob, we haven’t always had the best relationship, and you’re not perfect, but hey–you’re mine. You, in all your oversized glory, were given to me by God to carry around with confidence, and for that reason, I’ll continue to try my best to do that. We’ve been at odds since you first started growing back when I was still messing with Barbies, but now that we’re older, let’s call a truce and keep it peaceful and perky. Aight?

He took you out once. That was perfect. He told you you’re “so beautiful.” That was sweet. He kissed you. That gave you butterflies. He said, “I can see myself with you.” That made your heart skip a beat and your mind race to marriage. He listened when you were distressed over that horrible situation plaguing your life. That comforted you. He cuddled and watched television with you a few times. That felt so good. He’s funny. He seems genuine. He has potential. How cute.

And those are reasons to sleep with him? Those are reasons to cook for him and clean his apartment as if your name were on the lease? Those are reasons to shut out thoughts of any other possibilities for your love life? Those are reasons to compromise pieces of yourself that you sometimes worry that you shouldn’t have compromised?

Baby girl, you’re doing too much and he’s not doing enough. You know how I know? Because I’ve been that girl. You got so wrapped up in his primary packaging that you didn’t bother to look inside. You were sold. It looked good. At first. It felt good. At first. But “at first” is long gone and so is the spark and you’re not sure why he’s not doing all the things he was doing before. You’re wondering why you no longer seem to be a priority. You’re a little crushed but keeping Melanie Fiona on replay is bolstering your spirit just enough to keep truckin’ along. You still wonder though.

Take it from someone who has been a semi-consistent victim of her own overly active emotions: If he didn’t have to earn it, he won’t honor it. More than once I was so eager to be in love that I took off from my starting block before the gun even got in the air, let alone fired a shot. That kind of impatience – especially when dealing with love – WILL backfire and leave you losing. Every time.

And don’t misunderstand. This is not about playing games. It is however, about guarding your heart and your emotions until the he proves that not only are his intentions honorable but that he will consistently honor YOU. You will never get to that point of assurance if you’re filling girlfriend shoes without him ever having actively given you the title. Or picking out “His and Hers” bath towels and he hasn’t even thought about putting a ring on it.

Much of the hurt we face when dating is a result of our own impatience and need for affection when, as a mentor of mine once said, “Patience reveals all deception.” If he’s for real, you’ll be able to see consistency in his actions over time. If he’s just putting on a mask to get the good-good, then time will tell that as well. Whether young or old, patience has never been anything but a virtue. And in the case of love, wouldn’t you rather keep some mystery about yourself, guard your heart and make him work for your love than to give it away off the strength of a cheap date? To give a man who has not proven worthy access to you physically and/or mentally is like making small tears in your view of your own value. What are you worth? A few drinks at a swanky bar? A few compliments about your hair? What’s your price? Or are you invaluable?

Listen to: “Earn My Affection” by Amel Larrieux

I’ll answer for you. You’re invaluable. But that is a fact you have to know for yourself and refuse to accept any treatment that suggests less – even from yourself. Exercise some patience. Let him work for it. Don’t put yourself in compromising positions. If you know you might sleep with him prematurely, don’t go to his house. Insist on active dates. If you know you’re prone to getting too drawn in emotionally too soon, steel your mindset against getting too attached too soon and enlist the help of your girls for support.

Women hold more power than we give ourselves credit for. Men follow our lead. Let’s be absolutely convinced of our worth with our actions and interactions as evidence. Then, men will have no choice but to be convinced as well and either manifest cowardice by shrinking back, wanting something easy OR stepping up to the plate and earning our affections.

La Truly’s writing is powered by a lifetime of anecdotal proof that awkward can transform to awesome and fear can cast its crown before courage. La seeks to encourage thought, discussion and change among young women through her writing. Check her out on Twitter: @AshleyLaTruly.

Credit: Shutterstock

It happened while shopping at a local boutique during my freshman year of college. At the time she was a size 14 and I was a 4. For some reason, that day she decided to try on clothes in the petite section. I was confused, but I continued trying on clothes.

She kept eyeing a teeny bra and panties set and I thought, “No way. I know she’s not.” But she did. She picked up the set and fawned over how cute the lace was and said she was buying it. I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing and continued trying on clothes. With no warning, she looked at me as I awkwardly stumbled out of the dressing room wearing what I hoped would finally be the perfect dress for whichever event we were going to.

“Ugh, you make me sick you skinny b***h.”

It stunned me at first. I had the kind of relationship with my friends where we could insult each other lovingly and never take it to heart. But this. This was something else entirely. She gave a half-hearted smile and chuckle but she looked a confusing mash-up of angry and sad. Back then I thought too much of myself as we so often do and I took offense, discussing the issue with friends to make myself feel better as they coddled me with the, “She’s just jealous,” speech. What I know now is that it was more about her than it was about me.

Self-doubt, ESPECIALLY when it comes to physical beauty drives us to comparison in absolutely illogical ways and then throws us down into the muck of despair when we don’t measure up to whatever ludicrous standard we’ve set ourselves up against. But instead of accurately and honestly assessing where we are and then putting in the sweat (literally) to get where we want to be, it’s so much easier to give intense side-eye to that young woman who spends three hours daily in the gym and watches what she eats. It’s so much easier to call a slimmer woman (by metabolism – something almost completely uncontrollable) a “skinny b***h” without knowing her story. Did you know she may be battling an eating disorder brought on by physical and/or mental abuse? Or that perhaps she has a rarely high metabolism and intensely low self-esteem and tries desperately to gain weight to avoid criticism? You don’t know because you never asked. You never asked because you assumed that she thought she was “all that.” And we’re (skinny girls) supposed to take that?

If it’s rude or inappropriate for me to call an overweight woman a “fat, moon-faced heifer” then it’s equally inappropriate for someone to look at my 105-pound frame and jeer “Anorexic, skinny b***h!” or assume that I’m purposely missing meals to stay small. I get it; life is unfair. Boo hoo. Society is full of double standards, all of which coddle one group and leave its opposite open to criticism and cruel treatment that often lead to unfair resentment and hidden insecurities.

Though I wasn’t always comfortable in my body and I still deal with insecurities about it, it has become clear that acceptance is a useful tool in moving through life. Well, acceptance and a staunch refusal to bite my tongue when confronted about my weight. I learned to brush off the backhanded remarks about my size by larger women when I understood that I had nothing to apologize for. As if the fifteen or twenty pounds tipping another woman’s scale were somehow caused by my innately high metabolism. Really?

Society has really screwed us up. It has skewed our perception of what healthy looks like and driven home the lucrative “Try this and lose weight!” campaign year after year on the front of every glossy magazine in the checkout, in every aggravating commercial featuring that annoying celebrity, with pills, supplements, exercise regimens, crash diets and surgery. So, we clamor for that elusive perfect shape (yes, even the thinnest of us) and compare ourselves to those who we feel have reached that goal in our place. “In our place.” As if another woman’s physique decides the beauty, or lack their of, of our own. The result of that kind of ridiculous comparison is misguided self-doubt, insecurity and unfortunately, for many, lashing out to cope. I get the psychology behind it. Truly. But it’s no excuse to be mean.

I am not pleading the case of skinny girls. I am defending everyone who falls on the other side of any number of double standards, through the cracks, and gets lost there. Thinner women are subconsciously taught to be ashamed of their size and never to complain whilst we deal with an array of problems ranging from health to clothing that others deem trivial/silly. How crazy is that? Though I do struggle daily with lurking insecurities about my weight, that doesn’t give me license to belittle someone who is larger – nor would I ever want it to.

“Be kind; for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.” – Philo

Though the struggle may not be overt; though the struggle may not look like yours; though you may not understand it – accept the fact that everyone has a struggle.

We have to stop thinking of ourselves in terms of everyone else. We’re doing more damage to our own psyches and self-view than the best marketers and advertisers ever could. Thin or thick – healthiness is beauty and THAT is the only standard to which we should ever strive to measure up.

La Truly’s writing is powered by a lifetime of anecdotal proof that awkward can transform to awesome and fear can cast its crown before courage. La seeks to encourage thought, discussion and change among young women through her writing. Check her out on Twitter: @AshleyLaTruly.

Source: Shutterstock

It’s simple really. Being a single young woman today FOR ME means forging my own path despite the glut of overt societal messages being hurled my way. Sex has become a careless pastime. A punchline. A tagline. A selling point. A last resort (or first, depending on the circumstances and feelings attached) to cement a relationship. In a lot of ways sex has become a cheapened fling when emotions are running high and self-esteem is running low. This isn’t the case for everyone, of course, but for many.

The moment when I veered off of my previous trajectory of celibacy was not because I had met The One. It wasn’t because I loved him. It was because I had not fully allowed my sense of self worth to sink in. It was because I was still looking for my value in the adoration of a man. I was because I was too afraid to venture into the world, alone. To get to know myself by myself. So, I settled for being intimate with, playing at a relationship with someone I knew wasn’t part of my forever.

…But he made me feel comfortable right now. And subconsciously I felt that physical intimacy was a way to keep him around.

It’s now 2013 and the hiccups of years past are so apparently lessons learned. Lessons so well-learned that I made the choice along with two of my girlfriends to recommit to celibacy. Not to see how long we can hold out. Not to tease potential suitors. But to eliminate the stress and anxiety and overwhelming feelings that undoubtedly cloud judgment and place an opaque veneer over how one views herself. Even the most confident individuals have been bested by scurrying thoughts after sex. I choose to avoid these feelings that accompany sexual intimacy and channel that center of energy toward crossing off some dreams and goals from my “Lifetime To Do” List.

Choosing celibacy THIS TIME has absolutely nothing to do with men but everything to do with me. If 2013 really is going to be my year of true self-discovery and accomplishment, I have to prune the tree to prepare for its growth. I’ve eliminated toxic relationships and friendships from my life. Committed to a healthier lifestyle with semi-regular (still working on it!) exercise and MUCH better eating habits than in years past. I’ve gotten my finances in order. I’ve started to pay closer attention to my communication skills and how to better improve them. For me, choosing celibacy naturally falls in line. I’m not one of those, “She’s-got-to-have-it” types. I’m not embarrassingly/irritatingly prudish. But I am all about self-improvement and what better way to improve myself than to commit to an all-encompassing healthy lifestyle? Not everyone is willing/strong enough to accept the challenge but today, I am.

La Truly’s writing is powered by a lifetime of anecdotal proof that awkward can transform to awesome and fear can cast its crown before courage. La seeks to encourage thought, discussion and change among young women through her writing. Check her out on Twitter: @AshleyLaTruly.

Source: Shutterstock.com

Just the other day, I wore red lipstick, for the first time. Actually it was the first lipstick I’d ever worn in my entire life. It was clammy between the purses of my lips, but I didn’t mind it. This notion made me completely ecstatic. To you, this may seem a bit superficial. However, for me, it’d been a long time coming.

I was afraid I’d be noticed with anything additional or too bright. I did not want to be noticed, I wasn’t ready to adorn myself with anything that prompted catcalls and stares.

The truth is…

I wasn’t comfortable in my own skin. In fact, for a few years, I’ve been wearing someone else’s. I get up every morning, pat on makeup, slip on my heels and borrow words for the day, words that I don’t recognize as my own. I even delve into habits that weren’t previously a portion of my idiosyncrasies: eyebrows, nails, and organization.

The truth is, I was a skater girl: A kick loving, curse slinging, and over analytical extrovert. I was a nerd (still am) with a zest for journaling, Harry Potter, romance, and drama.

High school and college stifled me. Girls in higher heels and upper echelon begged me for tact. They caressed the underlying notions that I’d never be good enough. Everyday, as I faced the mirror, I realized that I was an impostor.

I am a shell of my former self.

I’m 5’11, with size twelve feet, big hands, an awkward smile and a stomach that kind of spills. To the stores, I am TALL, LONG and find-it-online. To the bullies, I was Sasquatch  goofy and nerd. To the men who failed to assess internal beauty parallel to external, I was “alright” or “okay.” To myself, I wasn’t deserving.

That’s where it starts, doesn’t it? With yourself?

I found it hard to take compliments. I often cringed at the utterance of beautiful or pretty directed towards me, suppressing the urge to look behind me and search for the woman they were truly talking about. Defense mechanisms were my forte:

1) In social settings, when the men are more adoring of your friends instead of you, twiddle with your phone. It shows you don’t care.

2) If anyone asks what’s wrong, nod and smile. Never let on too much. Insecurity is not attractive.

3) Stay clear of things you used to love to wear, before anyone pointed out their flaws. Bright colors, horizontal stripes and tighter things only emphasize your thickness.

4) Talk fast and quick. Perhaps if they know you are a celebrated poet, scholar and writer; your looks won’t matter too much.

…and, go.

Years ago, I had the opportunity to confront my insecurity. I stood on my first well-known stage surrounded by people who actually had requests. Fans of sorts. I could have dropped my bitter cloak there. I should’ve swallowed the attention whole and relished in the fact that I was a great writer, performer and someone who deserved everything.

I didn’t.

Instead, I blacked out. I let a pretend confident spirit envelop me and tear the stage apart. A train car voice cascaded from my lips and took charge of her surroundings. No microphone needed, I’d placed my morale, in rhyme, on the ears of many. It was beautiful. However, the instant the clapping faded and I cascaded down the stage’s steps; I was hunch shouldered, smirk-never-smile and nervous-wreck, shell of me, all over again.

Source: Shutterstock

In the midst of fact-checking our post on celebrities who beat addictions today, we were all a bit surprised to read of Oprah doing coke quite regularly back in the ’80s. This was a tale I’d heard once before, the details of which had escaped my memory, so I decided to do a little more investigating to see just what Oprah had said about her prior drug use, and more importantly, if she ever explained why she started using in the first place. That’s when I came across this January 14, 1995 article in the Observer-Reporter that relayed the details of Oprah’s confession on her talk show as she spoke with a guest who, too, had been addicted to the drug. After describing the drug use as her life’s “great big secret,” Oprah admitted that she was introduced to coke by a former boyfriend and started using because of their relationship, adding:

“I can’t think of anything I wouldn’t have done for that man.”

Almost gives you chills, right? As I looked that quote over and over again I thought really, anything? You can’t think of anything you wouldn’t have done for that man? But then I had to be real with myself for a second and think, am I so far removed from that?

While I can certainly think of a host of things I wouldn’t and didn’t do for my ex, it likely wouldn’t take much effort for me to come up with an equally long list of things I told myself — and him — that I wouldn’t do and couldn’t tolerate, yet ended up participating in and putting up with anyway. Sure, I was young — or younger — as Oprah would likely say of herself if she ever chose to speak on her past relationship again. But when is youth ever an excuse for compromising your personal values? You don’t have to be old to stay true to yourself. It’s just supposed to be easier to do after you have several years under your belt — theoretically.

I’ll spare myself some of the guilt and embarrassment of sharing the details of those things I accepted in the name of love and desperation, but they all fall under the general categories of dishonesty, disrespect, and disconcern for my general well being. Like lying about the role, shall I say, of certain women in his life, or calling me a half-a**ed b***h during an argument in public, or asking me to do things that could put me in jeopardy.  I can puff out my chest and say I exited stage left once some of these things happened, but I can just as easily put my head down and think of how long it took me to decide to leave — for the last time. Truth be told, my list of things I wouldn’t have done for that man wasn’t all that long, and it appeared to get shorter and shorter as time, and our relationship ,went on. So yeah, I’m not so different from Oprah after all. We all have our drugs of choice, hers just happened to be a literal one.

Unfortunately, almost every woman has wasted a “there is nothing I won’t do for him” attitude on the wrong type of man and gotten ourselves caught up into some mess that makes us one of those but now, born-again relationshipers. And though we all like to think we could never, ever, ever find ourselves traveling back down that road again — and hopefully most of us won’t — some of us will. For some reason, those cliche sayings, like “never cry over someone who won’t cry for you” or “never make someone a priority who only treats you as an option,” are coming to mind right now, but the issue here isn’t really the other person. Whether the individual you’re involved with is worth readjusting your moral compass isn’t what’s up for debate. What needs to be assessed is your self-worth and whether you value yourself, the person you have to live with every day, more than another person who may be in you life for nothing more than one reason, maybe a season, and likely not a lifetime. This is why so many relationships books start with chapters on self-love and knowing oneself because peer pressure is very much alive in relationships and if you haven’t already established who you are and what you stand for, well, that’s how you end up doing coke with your boyfriend of six months, or taking someone back umpteenth times after they’ve already showed you who they are is not a good match with who you are.

Oprah and I may have dropped the ball in our “younger” years but I think we can both say that now we can not only think of a laundry list of things we won’t do for a man but also know that we really won’t do them.  Let’s hope most women out there can also say the same.