Diva

In my heart I am a diva. When I am in my room I strut around listening to my Destiny's Child CD pretending I'm wearing hot pants. I put on the "I'm beautiful and badass and I can sing, but I can fuck you up" face that all divas must be able to pull of. What is the word Tyra Banks uses on my secret favorite show? Oh yes, FIERCE. Sometimes when a song by a female hip hop or R&B artist comes on I am literally expelled from my chair by the need to be a diva. I throw my head around, shake my hips and imagine stamping on a man with my heels while I prance around the room.

I belt out the lyrics and really feel them. They were written just for me, baby! I am bootylicious, a survivor, dumping that man with the highest note I can sing, getting ready for the nightlife (I like to boogie) and telling him to call me when he gets there all at the same time. I am empowered, black and proud and I sound a damned lot like Aretha Franklin in these moments.

Every day under the real clothing I'm wearing, I'm wearing a slinky, sequined red dress that is bling enough that people need sunglasses to look at me. And I've got the microphone in my hand and the man offstage who only likes me for my money but I keep around because I like having power in a relationship.

So why am I smiling when there's nothing funny? Because honey, how can you not smile when you've got so much divatude inside?