I seemed to have gotten a little shook by Beaver's comments about me being shallow. The crazy part is that he does not recall mentioning that I can be shallow at times. "I would never call you shallow," he said. I felt my pimp hand getting strong because I sho wanted to pop him in the lip. Why put thoughts in the atmosphere if you won't be able to remember such important things? Granted, he probably said it in passing, but you never know how little small things can have a big impact on someone or their life.

To this day, me and my Mama are like day and night. People that I've known for years or that have just met me and Mama will tell me, "You look just like your Mama!" We look at each other and wonder, "What are they smoking?" She has that "Indian in my family" hair that she can literally wash and go, and I got a little bit of that because my hair is soft and fine. If I walk out the door with water, setting lotion, or gel in my hair, best believe that it's gonna draw up like the family jewels in icy water. But looking like her? Well, I might have her smile because I saw a picture of her some time ago, and I recognized my twinkle in her eyes. So folks ain't that crazy after all. But we're not mirror images.

I always thought that I looked like my Daddy. I was always a Daddy's girl, and I always took pride in looking like him. My Mama is an attractive woman, but it was cool to know that I can look at my Daddy, and I see myself in his face.

Now, where do my parents really think I got my looks and my ways? My Dad's sister, Gin Gin (may she rest in peace). She was my grandma's only girl, and she didn't take after her mother too much. I appreciated her more as an adult because she was funny, and everyone in the family is just funny. She was cool and down for her kids, even if they lived off MLK in da hood for real for the longest time. Her persona was bigger than life...but so was the rest of her. Gin Gin was a very large woman. Tall and wide. She didn't always have the prettiest looks on her face, but there was a beauty there and you could see how she attracted the men that gave her three wildly wonderful daughters. She was big, had a loud mouth, was a terrible housekeeper, and always wore wigs that were sometimes kinda cocked the wrong way. That was Gin Gin. Loud and telling it like it is.

My Mama always had things to say to me as a child, but one thing I couldn't stand, and she knew it, was when she called out, "You're just like your Aunt Gin Gin!" I knew that was not a compliment just by her tone of voice. She started to get more specific, even with a 5 year old. "You're so loud like your Gin Gin! Why do you have to be so loud?"

Does a 5 year old really know that they are as loud as they are told? I had no idea. But I heard it a lot from Mama until it finally sunk in that maybe I shouldn't be so loud. Maybe no one else could stand to hear a loud voice like mine because Mama couldn't stand to hear it. So, I started to muffle myself. My loud raucous voice became more normal. But Mama would still call my voice "loud like Gin Gin". Maybe it was from my regular arguments with my brothers when my yells could be heard clear across the house. I wasn't loud all the time because I didn't read my books outloud; I always read silently. So, my normal voice became muted, too. Why? Because I couldn't dare be like Virginia. I was already a fat little girl that didn't admit to liking boys at age 10 when she was truly crazy about a bunch of boys. I didn't want to deal with, "Why don't you have a boyfriend?" I had even bigger issues when I heard all of my parents' friends tell me regularly say, "Ooh, you're so pretty" or "That's a heartbreaker right there." So I'm getting my ego stroked from adults, but I have to have the pressure from my Mom of being like my aunt that would wear a light curly brown wig that was obviously not hers and was known for wearing ONE prescription lens secured by a string (maybe a shoelace) tied around her head. (I can't make this stuff up.)

That was a lot for a young girl to take in, and I refused to take it in as a teenager or a college student.

Well, Aunt Gin Gin died in Spring 2000. I unfortunately couldn't go to her funeral because I had to do my first day of training for my job. I really had big plans as a graduate to take this job, stick with the company for a few years so I could prove myself as invaluable and be recognized that way because I was promoted more than once. I was there for about a month.

Even though I still miss hearing Gin Gin 's loud mouth and hilarious realness, I stifled any similarities to Gin Gin because I couldn't possibly be her. Out of the question. But my grad chapter of my sorority had its first Masquerade Ball around Mardi Gras time in February 2005. Everyone was really just going to wear masks and go with the Mardi Gras theme. I had to go all out because I really wanted to surprise and shock people. I needed a wig to cover my nappy red crown. The same crown that identifies me anywhere I go. I don't think all of my sorors would know me without a red head. So who do I go to for help? My birthday twin and first cousin, Ray Ray, who is Gin Gin's oldest. I was asking her for shopping help on my outfit (and she showed out on that one), but she decided to lend me a wig, too.

What? A wig on moi? But my head is too big for a wig! It won't look right. Well, Ray Ray pulled out a favorite wig of hers: long, dark, and sleek. It made you think of Ike and Tina because it was very similar to one of the wigs from "What's Love Got To Do With It". She put it on my head, and it was a tad tight...but I got used to it. She sprayed, slicked, shined, glossed, and combed that wig into bootiful. I had to give Ray Ray her props: "Damn, Cousin! You did that!" Ray Ray laughed at her proper cousin using hood talk to compliment her, but what else could I possibly say?

I felt really good with that wig on. I felt my inner Vanity come out when I got to swinging that hair around. I got a lot of compliments with that wig. My brother, NOPI, even told me, "You need to grow some hair. That looks real good on you."

I asked, "Why I gotta have long straight hair to be cute."

NOPI said, "I ain't say all that, but that wig flatters you. Looking like a lil Gin Gin." Hmm...

Dad saw Gin Gin in me when I was sporting the wig, too. I saw my Mama cringe when she heard Daddy saying I looked just like my auntie, but it didn't bother me anymore. The cool thing was it didn't bother me at all.

After all those years of hearing how I was gonna grow up and be just like Gin Gin, I finally realized that being like Gin Gin ain't so bad. She wasn't the only one to wear wigs or color her hair. All of her daughters are good for "hair enhancements". I even found a rare picture of Dad's grandmother decked out with a fly hat and purse (well, fly for 1960 something) and the wig to top it off. This hair thing is in my genes! This is who I am. I'm a big beautiful full-figured woman who loves to color her hair and change up her look. I love to look good. And God blessed me with the gift of VOLUME! Yes, my twins have volume, and so do my hips. But God did a serious job on my mouth and my lungs. I have a big ol' mouth that I use to say what I want and make sure my thoughts are heard. Just like Gin Gin. Just as sassy as I wanna be. I hate to admit to the housekeeping part, but I am pretty junky in the bedroom. I'm working on it.

Any way you look at it. I'm a lot like Gin Gin. I'm not her spitting image, but I do have a lot of Gin Gin in me, and I know this is a reflection of women I am descended from. We all have those wide hips and thighs that are undeniable. I didn't appreciate the obvious until I was 27 years old.

It pisses me off sometimes. My Mom really had an effect on my development. Sometimes I feel like my growth into womanhood was stunted because my Mama insisted that being like my aunt was such a negative. Actually, it's not. I love being loud. I don't do it all the time, but it's a helluva gift when it's needed. No one else can use their lungs the way I do. Except Gin Gin. Sometimes I think that I could've been more outgoing a lot earlier in life. Mabe my loudness could've been more nurtured as a child or teenager, and I would have been a more phenomenal young adult during my college years. A lot of "What Ifs" always swirl in my head because of a few small words from one important person in my life. I can't blame my mother's words forever because I have been making changes on my own. But seriously...what if I had been told something like, "That loudness would be good in a debate, in cheerleading, on a step team, for organizing volunteer drives"? What if? Damn those lil words.