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Showing posts from January, 2020

Goregous

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            Let’s talk body. Let’s be real. I’m a thick woman. I’m a real woman. I’m a woman with curves and booty. I wear a size 10. I am not skinny. I am not fat. I am happy. Leave me alone.             Did you read and understand that? If you didn’t, read it again. My body is mine to accept and love. I love who I am and I am happy with what I see. I love my curves and I love my thighs that jiggle as I walk. I love who I am.             We grow up in a world where being skinny is plastered all over social media that it is the way you should be. I know many people who have lost weight and then suddenly lost themselves in the process. It’s sad, really, to see this happen. Lose weight for the right reason. Don’t lose weight to belong. Lose weight for you not for another.             Love who you are and accept yourself. Don’t let someone’s idea of perfection label you and drag you into depression. Be aware of what you say when you are around others. Be aware of what you do w

Cheem Koj Lub Siab

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Koj Niam,             Muab xav npau twg los xav tsis tawm. Kuv tsis paub tias kuv yuam ke qhov twg es thiaj li ua rau koj lub siab mus nrhiav dua lwm tus. Kuv nco, kuv tsis tau ua dab tsi txhaum. Kuv lub siab, kuv lub neej, muaj koj tib leeg xwb. Hauv kuv lub neej, koj thiaj li yog tus kuv ntshaw.             Kuv thov koj os koj niam. Thov koj cheem koj lub siab tsis txhob mus. Txawv tias luag yuav muaj nyiaj dua, luag yuav zoo nraug dua, los luag tsis yog koj cov me nyuam txiv. Luag tsis yog koj tus me txiv nraug txha noog. Luag pom koj zoo hnub no, tag kis luag yuav mus pom lwm tus.             Txhua txhua hnub, kuv nim los saib hauv iav seb kuv ua qhov twg tsis zoo. Seb kuv pauv tau kuv tus kheej li cas, seb kuv yuav hloov li cas es thiaj li tau kuv tus zoo niam tsev rov los hauv kuv xub ntiag. Tab si, kuv yim kho kuv tus kheej, koj yim txhav deb ntawm kuv.             Wb lam los nyob ua ib ke hauv ib lub tsev. Koj thiab kuv wb twb hais tsis muaj ob lo lus rau ib tug.

Tso Koj Mus

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Koj Txiv,           Xav tsis txog tias yuav muaj ib hnub kuv yuav los zaum sau tsab ntawv tu koj moo. Nim xav, nim tu siab, vim wb zaj keeb kwm pib puag thaum ntxov los. Kuv rau rau siab sau los zoo li koj yim muab lwm tag. Kuv lub zog ntshe yuav tsis muaj ntxiv los kho kom wb zaj dab neeg muaj qhov xaus kom zoo. Ces cia kuv tso koj hnub no mus es kuv lub siab thiaj li txawj kaj.           Txij li hnub kuv los ua koj tus niam tsev, kuv lub zog kuv muab los tu koj tsev neeg, los tu koj, los tu tej me nyuam, kuv muab tag nrho yam tsis khuv xim ib qhov. Nraub hnub, hmo ntuj, ntuj teb tag hmo, txawv kuv sab thiab nkees npaum twg, los kuv ua tiag uv los tu kom sawv daws tau zoo. Kuv yoo kuv txoj kev zoo ntau xyoo ua rau koj lub qhov muag saib kuv tsis zoo nkauj. Koj thiaj li muaj lub siab mus deev lwm leej lwm tus.           Hnub no, kuv los saib kuv tus kheej haus iav, kuv cim tsis tau xyov nws yog leej twg. Kuv twb tsis paub kuv lub suab luag zoo li cas. Kuv nim los ua koj tus

Yet Here I Am...Waiting

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The walls seem to hum alive with the lies we feed each other. No matter what time of day it is, I am never hungry because I feed myself full of your lies. Your emptiness kills me slowly and when I look in the mirror, I no longer recognize who I am. The woman I see is a stranger who happens to know me all too well. You’ve taken the good in me and you stole the light from me. Yet here I am still waiting.           The clock on the wall tells me that it’s past due the time you were supposed to be home. The house is not a house, but a prison that holds steel bars to keep me inside. I have lost my way and there are no footprints left for me to trace my way back home. Friends and families I used to love become a faded memory of what used to be good. You’ve taken the youth in me and you stole the best of me. Yet here I am still waiting.           My closet tells me that nothing fits anymore because I no longer eat. My body has become a waste of life and when I look in the mirror I am

Hopes & Dreams

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            When I was a child, I spent my days in the sun playing house and family with sticks and stones. I remembered I was always the mother because I was the oldest among the bunch and I liked being able to care for others. Every time my cousins and family came over, it was a time to kick off our shoes and dance in the sun as we tried to catch up on lost time. It was the best childhood memories growing up.             I remember growing up, I had so much hope in wanting to be a star. I would sit and day dream about a handsome man who would whisk me away on a horse (yes! I was that crazy on fantasies) and take me away to a castle. I always wondered why in every single one of my dreams, I always rode on a horse toward a castle. I often thought if I was born in the wrong era and was meant to be a queen in a time of Lords and Gods. Give me a man in a kilt and sword with an accent and I’m gone. Seriously, have you seen Braveheart?             And then when I met my husband who

Black Promises

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I can hear it. I can feel it. It’s burning me. It’s meant to be. It is meant to be. The world is not safe for me anymore. I must go. I must leave. I must take this path. The flowers are slowly dying, withering away their last petals onto the cold frozen ground. It’s cold, dark and wet as my exhausted feet make the travel along this red dirt path. I know where I’m going and then I’m also lost. Everything is alive here in this place. It’s magical and wretched at the same time. I love it and I hate it. I’m scared and I’m free. Where am I?             The flesh hurts and it’s beginning to take a form unlike my own. I can see it move; life forms within a life. I’m unable to control anything that happens. As much as I want to scream, I learn my tongue has been ripped out. I’m a mute and my vision seems to play tricks on me. I see things unnatural that smile at me from behind trees. I see movements that move at the speed of a snail and then at the speed of lightning. I can’t determine

Wake Up Your Soul

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I wake up at my usual 5 am time to get my kids ready for school and my baby girl Wysteria kicks awake, not being able to bear me being away from her. I change her diaper and settle her downstairs in the living room before I wake up the older kids for school. My six year old Azalea wakes with a bloody nose and as I help her contain it, my eight year old Maximus wakes to wash up while my ten year old Nathaniel lies in bed stretching.     The house is full of water running, toilet flushing and voices rambling on and on about who is taking too long and who isn’t doing anything. The two boys finish and my daughter brings me a brush with a tissue up her nose to keep the blood from dripping. I ask her what she would like me to do to her hair today. She shrugs and says she doesn’t know. So I brush her hair and I’m saddened that in a few years, she will not need me to do this for her. She will be able to do her own hair and not need me. I quickly finish doing her hair and we walk down th

1,000 Miles Aaprt

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        It’s been a month now that my husband started his new job in Wichita, Kansas. Yes, Kansas, 9 hours away from where I am. It was a very long and hard decision between us both and in the end, it was for the best. Sometimes an opportunity comes that doesn’t wait long for you to jump on board. If you can’t decide, it disappears and you’ll always wonder “what if.”         Even though we had a life here in Minnesota, the south was calling our name and the simple life was begging us to return. The big city here was full of fun, friends and party that had us out and about most times. And the simple life of family time was telling us that it was time to return to our roots. So without a moment’s pause, we hopped on the train.         Even though he’s there and I’m here with the kids, it feels as if we are both together. When he left, he took a part of me and he left a piece of him here. Every night, we call each other and we talk and talk until one of us falls asleep. Hearing h

Dance To Your Own Rhythm

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        When I married, I faced the same lectures every other Hmong girl did. “Be patient,” “Wake up early,” “Cook, clean and serve.” The same thing was told to me as I’m sure you were told as well. I listened and just wondered where I went wrong as a daughter. I felt as if my wedding day was a day to cut all ties with my family.         And so began the duty of being a Nyab. No more outings with friends, no more nice clothes, no more of anything that wasn’t approved. Your life was now chained to the kitchen and to cook, clean and serve…until death do you part.         But I’m not a submissive woman. I’m not the type to submit to other’s orders and rules of who I should be and succumb. I like dancing. I like filming. I like being out with friends. I like dressing nice. I’m a woman with dreams and hopes. I’m human after all and I desire just as others do.         So I dance to own rhythm. My music consists of me reaching for dreams that I want. My bridge is full of successes

The Price of a Miscarriage

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            November 8 th …I stared down at the double pink lines staring back at me and tears filled my eyes. Baby #7 was on its way to me and my husband. My heart fluttered with happiness and my hands immediately flew to my belly, cupping what would grow another precious life. I ran to the top of the stairs and shouted for my husband to come upstairs. I immediately go back to wait in the bathroom and when he enters the room, I hand him the news and say, “Merry Christmas Daddy.”             Cravings begin and I’m eating things I don’t usually do. I break the news to the children who are so happy and then I break the news on social media. I can’t wait to tell everyone that we’re going to be parents again. My heart is filled with love and I just can’t hold it back.             Then…I start to spot. I’m pushing it back, hoping it’s nothing. It’s dark, old blood, nothing to worry about. I set up an appointment to confirm my pregnancy and they do an ultrasound. The tech says the fe