Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Upcycling Relationships and Romance




I'll be fifty-one on March 16, 2011. After a lifetime of being someone's mate and mommy (the latter term not always applying to my children), I found myself back on the singles scene at age forty-two. My frank assessment of dating in today's world? It sucks.

As a Christian teen during the 70's, I was conflicted about the societal messages regarding womanhood. Here we were at the dawning of the Women's Lib movement. I was a young, free-spirited hippie at heart. But I was also a goody-two-shoes church girl. The Baptist church reinforced the family values of the 1950's. I opted to please my church community. I married at nineteen, immediately had two children, got divorced at twenty-five. Immediately remarried, stuck it out for thirteen years to give my kids stability. I was evolving and reclaiming the free-spirited person of my youth. But another long-term relationship came. At forty-two I finally faced life alone.

I've discovered men are very different than the safe, friendly, protective boys I hung out with in high school. Did I know that these pals were Gay? Heck no! I didn't even know what the heck that meant - frankly, neither did most of them back in the 70's. As adults they came out of the closet. I didn't get it. My amused second husband had to explain the concept to me. Point is, my frame of reference for the opposite sex was of memories with my choir, theater, and band buddies, whose arms around my waist or heads on my shoulder were pure and harmless.

I've learned the hard way that most men are not really interested in being buddies. Nope. And a date is a prelude to sex for many. Though a hippie at heart, a proud prude rules my sense and sensibilities. I ain't a-puttin' out, so you'd best be a-gettin' out. I am hard wired for a mate, but not desperate.

A few years ago, I entered into a domestic legal partnership with a Brotha. Partly because we were relieved to find each other, partly because we both love romance. And to tell you the truth, it was the first time I had been so pampered. I wasn't doing all the work. We were spoiling each other, loving each other, loving life. Then his sister died, along with some other life stuff that temporarily drove us emotionally away from each other. Back and forth, on again, off switch, on switch...
In a conversation during our off period, as he sipped Remy Martin, he said he had no regrets about being with me. "I love everything about you. You're an EXCELLENT wife. I have no complaints about you. I can talk to you, you look after me, you care, we like the same things, we have intellecual conversation, you're African-centered, we have fun... you're sexy as HELL, I ain't gonna lie... I LOVE US!"

Well, they say a drunk man speaks a sober mind. While his revelations offered some comfort, it also reinforced something new for me: During this temporary separation, alone, I'm good. At least for the moment. Which way is the wind blowing?

Men have benefitted from my skills of being the patient, doting, adoring wife. They've also appreciated my mind and independent talents.  I'm Old School with a new twist; the perfect wife prototype for the contemporary man. I totally love being with my man, yet can make my own money. I love the simple life, yet appreciate niceties. I'll turn on the sex pot, but only for My Man. And I like to cook. And clean. And sew. Decorate too. I'm Shuquetta Homemaker with an African print apron. What I've had to learn over the last near decade is how to turn transfer my motivation for doing it all for my family into doing it for me. Know what? I'm lovin' it!

I have no guilt or family conflicts in being on tour performing and lecturing. It's great to come home and see everything is decorated the way I want it to be. It's lovely to date and not feel as though I have to cook. I create gourmet cuisine at my leisure and pleasure.  I can be sexy and sensual simply because I have discovered it's part of who I am, and not there for the delight of My Man. Instead of getting dolled up to be My Man's trophy toy, I get dressed up for me. When I decide to let a man in my door, you'd best believe it's on terms that work for me. Don't misunderstand: being the wife to cheapskates and spendthrifts honed me into the bargain master and budget lifestyle expert I am today. And my age has granted me wisdom that could have only come through my variegated life experiences.

I'm living my life with class, sass, and the right bit of brass. I am the Renegade Wise Woman.

Here's are my bargain and crafting tips for the day.

End of season is the best time to shop for bargains. Super slashed prices galore! I found this poly cotton, padded & boned bustier at DOTS for $1.99.  I decided I'd add African accents by sewing on cowrie shells.

Cowrie shells are inexpensive. Most urban beauty supply stores carry them for 99 cents.


Based on the pattern I decided to create, I only needed one pack of cowrie shells. By handstitching each shell, slipping the needle and thread through each one several times and knotting it through the back, I came up with this. Fun for a night out (or in), the bustier can be worn with a skirt, pants, shorts, jacket, or wrap. Dressed up or down, this bustier is now a fun, sexy essential for strutting your stuff with African adornments. Don't hurt nobody, now!



                                         -- Mama Imakhu (Your Renegade Wise Woman)
                                                                 http://www.imakhu.com/
                                                             http://www.akeruministries.com/