The Invisible Black Woman

I promise you’ll wanna stick to the end. This one is a slow-burn!

After meeting with May, I went back to the waiting room to wait for the dietician. A few minutes later, I was heading to a different office, traipsing behind Agnes. She clearly had taken the time to read my intake before our meeting, which was nice.

“My name’s Agnes. I’m one of the RDs. Lovely to meet you. This is the fun part. Are you gonna start PT?”

By RD, she meant registered dietician. I gathered “the fun part” was meant to be sarcastic and if so, I very much picked up what she was putting down. And by PT, she meant physical therapy, which is where I very well thought I was headed.

“I’m not sure—more than likely. I go see the ortho next week.”

“Alrighty. So, we’ll kind of get the rundown there.”

I nodded.

“In the meantime, let’s start you on a high protein diet. Okay. We’re gonna go through this together.”

“Okay.”

We then went through in painstaking details all of the do’s and don’ts of this new way of eating. I mean, not really new, but it was about me being more cognizant of what I was eating and how much. The main thing I took away from it is that carbs and fat were bad but protein was good. Shocking. I could eat green veggies to my heart’s content and I needed to make sure that when it came to my protein and carb ratio, the protein content was always higher than the carbs.

I found out after I left, because I was lowkey too embarrassed to ask, that protein keeps your blood sugar levels steady and helps slow down the absorption of sugar, which carbs are full of, and makes you feel fuller longer (the last bit I knew, but not the first bit).

“So far so good?”

“Yep, sounds good!”

I knew I wasn’t going to remember all of it, but since she was reading from a folder, I was heavily betting I was gonna get to take it home with me. Well, I was definitely hoping.

Once we went through the servings and the laundry list of things I could and couldn’t have, Agnes wanted my input.

“How is this sounding, this high protein plan?”

“High protein sounds good. Portions and servings sound terrifying.”

I told her about a local meal delivery service in the area I tried out. She was really encouraging about me doing that as it would take a lot of the pressure off.

“This change cannot happen overnight. It’s not gonna happen in two weeks. Our philosophy is to look through this and find a few things to focus on. We’ll start there because you’re gonna see improvement on the scale.”

I apprehensively told her that I don’t do breakfast. I was half expecting the old-as-dirt lecture that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. But she was fine with that.

My morning/breakfast routine has and always will be coffee—since I’ve been adulting anyway. That’s it, that’s all. Now, granted, I do not nor will I ever for so long as I live ever drink Black coffee. I leave that to my husband, but I absolutely have me some coffee with a cup of oat milk, agave, and some collagen powder. And I won’t be ready to eat anything until noon.

Turns out, I was quite accidentally nourishing myself with the collagen powder. I was zero days old when I learned from the dietician that most collagen powder—the good kind anyway—is protein. So, learn something new everyday, it would seem.

“Does two weeks work for you for a follow-up?”

“Yep. I think my hardest day is gonna be Sunday, because Sunday is usually the day that hubby and I have brunch. And I’ll do a whole spread. And so that’s gonna be—I think I’m just gonna focus more on like protein and vegetables for myself.”

“Or focus on Monday through Saturday and give yourself one day where you turn the brain off. ‘Cause that is important. If that is gonna be your cheat, you need to budget accordingly. Maybe you don’t have a Wednesday treat because you’re gonna have that brunch.”

I could have bear-hugged her then and there if it wouldn’t have been hella inappropriate.       

“It’s one day a week. It’s gonna be fine. Don’t touch anything on your brunch. It’s something that you look forward to. It’s something with your husband. You’ve got a lot on your plate with your pain management. Food is enjoyment. We just need to be a little bit picky on when and how often we enjoy it.”

Ma’am, say less.  

She gave me recommendations on tracking food, but said it wasn’t absolutely mandatory. That also felt a lot less pressure-inducing.

“All right. Have you scheduled a follow-up yet?”

“Not yet.”

“They’ll help you up front with that, but if you come back in two weeks and say, ‘Agnes, this is the worst thing someone’s ever given me,’ you’re not gonna hurt my feelings. But I think a lot in combination—you starting PT, you becoming more mindful of lean cuts of meat, high amounts of vegetable. Hopefully that will help. This is a very anti-inflammatory diet, so anything that is inflaming you is hopefully gonna come down.”

“Yeah, that’s the biggest issue I have right now.”

One of many, but I’m getting ahead of myself once again.

And then she said the thing she should have led with and I would have literally been a client for life: “your muscle is perfection, which I’m really happy about.”

Honestly, I stopped listening after she said that.

I did manage to throw in one cheap shot at myself though.“Right!? I just have to chisel away the top layer.”

In all seriousness, I went over the river and through the woods to say this—well, I also didn’t want to leave you hanging from the last episode, Knowing is half the battle.

What I wanted to leave you with is something I think, especially this week, is worth saying to every Black woman who finds themselves reading this post, wherever you may be: you are PERFECTION. And especially if you’re laughing at my statement and rolling your eyes in disbelief: you are PERFECTION. From the crown of your head to your tips of your toes, everything you are is PERFECTION. From the way you walk, the way you talk, the way you laugh at a good joke, the way you read someone for the filth (mostly mentally if it’s a coworker or superior), it is PERFECTION. Even if you don’t believe it right this moment, I promise you are PERFECTION absolutely positively just the way you are. Even if you’re a work in progress like me, every step, every move you make is PERFECTION.

You wanna know why? Because there is no one else on this earth that can do things quite the way you can. Sure there are others in similar roles, but your brand of flavor, perspective, and intellect makes it as unique as a fingerprint.

This week has been an absolute positive fluckcuster in the news front as it pertains to setbacks that apply to Black women. And I struggled and frankly still do to find the words to articulate what it is I am feeling about all of the things that have happened. And each hit just accumulates and sticks onto to the ever-growing brown snowball of bullshittery and gaslighting and macro- and microaggressions and straight racism that is happening. Sadly, what we see and are privy to is just a microscopic fraction of the actual magnitude of all the injustices that are perpetrated against Black women when no cameras or smartphones are recording.

Honestly, I don’t at all have the words to convey or express how heartbroken I am at the state of the world as it relates to Black women. And I won’t be entertaining any whatabouts today—and tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that ain’t looking so hot for that neither. I’m tired of the silence and the cowardice of the same people and organizations that were so quick to realize that Black lives matter 4 years ago and now they done forgot we mattered again and it’s business as usual.

Whew, I got on the soapbox for a minute and that wasn’t my intent. I have A LOT to get off my chest on the matter, but we gon put a pin in that for now.

Back to the goal and issue at hand for this post because I do sincerely want to leave this on a hopeful and happy note. To my Black beautiful bodacious badass bawses, you are not a mistake. You belong here. You matter. You make a difference. You are amazing. You are needed. You hold value. You are one of a kind. You are imitated but never replicated. You may be replaced, but your imprint and impact can never be erased. And even if small-minded, short-sighted, sense-lacking people might say otherwise:

You. Are. PERFECTION.