Operation White Cake Just Raised the Bar.

Yesterday, in my usual Facebook/Twitter/Tumblr rotation, I came across a video that might as well had been labeled The Cutest Thing Ever. You see, this guy Shawn decided his girlfriend of 7 years was definitely the one he wanted (No Zukko). They had plans to elope in Vegas then announce it casually among friends soon after. However, Shawn decided girlfriend Colleen deserved much more than that, and in a series of conversations for a year, Shawn recorded details of what would make a wedding perfect for Colleen, then made it happen.

Yes, you heard that right. He planned a wedding down to the details she wanted. Had her dream dress flown in, the family members and friends on location, and the crew of bridesmaids dressed and ready to go. All that was needed was a willing bride. That part would (hopefully) come soon enough.

Everybody in attendance was at the designated spot before Colleen, so those who weren’t in the know were informed that the bride-to-be didn’t even know of this surprise. It was like a surprise party, except with a white dress, new rings, and a marriage license as parting gifts. Shawn threw in some lovely quotables from The Princess Bride as an added touch, and began to pace nervously, awaiting his girlfriend’s arrival. He hoped if she said yes, everything she needed was available, since he even arranged for all of her bedroom furniture to be on-site, in the same arrangement she has it at home. Seriously, this guy needs an award. If not for making me lose my thug at the phrase “Martha Stewart paper balls,” then for having such an immaculate attention to detail when planning what (I’m told) is one of the most significant days of a woman’s life. Colleen is, quite possibly, the luckiest woman on earth.

*cue applause and awwwws*

With the onslaught of surprise proposals I’ve seen recently, this took it up a notch. I’d definitely be down if the man in my life decided to just go for what he knew and plan the most splendid shindig of my life. I’d catch about 50 jigs knowing I’d never get a chance to flap my Bridezilla wings. I’m not saying I have them, but wedding planning just seems to bring out the ugly in some women.

Oh, and here’s the video detailing this day-long journey from girlfriend to fiancee to wife. Feel free to send them well-wishes at operationwhitecake@gmail.com.

Would any of you be willing to

  • plan and coordinate surprise nuptials for your beloved, or 
  • gladly participate if my love decided to pull something like this off? 


That’s love in the air, not sulfur.

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Beauty Standards

Shh. I haven’t been here for a while, and I gots something to say.

This one’s been marinating inside of me for a minute…

I’m baffled by the concept of beauty these days. I’ve always believed that what makes one different makes them beautiful, but I recognized that there’s a pressure, particularly on young women, to conform to a set “standard” to be “beautiful.” A certain hairstyle, a certain weight, a certain way of dress are seen as acceptable and right, and any deviations are seen as the norm. Strange thing is, we’re all a bit of a deviation if you ask me. Take myself for example: I’ve got a big crazy fro, I’m a bit overweight (working on that though), and I don’t get gussied up like the average girl, mostly because I’m not all that sure of what to “do” (anybody wanna be my big sister?). When I got my last relaxer 4 years ago and announced it, all I could get in return from people is “when are you gonna do your hair?” or “what’s up with that mop on your head?” or better yet, the unsolicited yanking, pulling and touching (especially on the occasion I opt to have it straightened, to see if it’s “all mine”). For the sake of keeping this a bit brief, I’d rather tell my hair story another time. Just know there’s a story, and have your popcorn ready.

It’s funny, because with all of these stories of celebrities making changes and being scrutinized (ie Solange Knowles’ infamous public cut (left), anything Rihanna or Beyonce does, Jennifer Aniston’s hairstyle which was popular enough to have a name, the Rachel (right)[by the way, wtheck was up with that?]), it makes me wonder: why do we let these societal standards define who we are? I think of Chris Rock’s upcoming documentary “Good Hair” (a phrase which pisses me beyond the highest possible level of pisstivity, because who determines if your hair is “good” or “bad,” if God made it to grow out of your head as such? For those unfamiliar with the documentary (or the term), here’s the trailer:

I’m kind of intrigued to see how relevant this will be, considering Rebbund Al is in it, and no, I wouldn’t touch his hair. It seems to be a good idea on the forefront, but I wonder exactly who the target audience is.

I know there are many people who get it, that you are who you are, and we should just embrace that no matter what. On the other side, you have, well, a mix of people who I hate to put in a box, because this will always be a never ending list… But for today, I kind of want to focus on those who make embracing your natural beauty seem so easy. Let’s look at the college professor in Georgia who adopted a child from Ethiopia, and with no prior knowledge of how to care for African hair, used love and patience to begin shaping in his daughter the idea that she is beautiful. For a gallery of photos like the ones to the side, click here. For the full story, click here.

It’s so nice to see stories like that, and from a non-African American family at that! The time spent learning speaks volumes of that father’s love. That “supply drawer” is nothing to balk about , either! I hope that one day when I have some curly haired cuties of my own, I will be able to impart into them the message of loving yourself as you are. Sure, I’ll accept the choices they make along the way, maybe even participate in some myself. The important thing is to teach them that who you are on the outside and
on the inside are the same, but different. That’s one less thing they’ll be in therapy for later with a wacky mum like me! 🙂

Anyway, what are some of your ideals on this whole “standard of beauty” thing, and what do you do to combat it, if you choose to do so? Do you have children, and if so, how do you impart the message that they are beautiful?

Love it. Period.

Take care!

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Celebration of Love Stuff

Lately, I’ve seen people write letters to their future children and whatnot. They remind me of the letters I wrote to my former self, in the form of “Dear 13-year-old Beez, shut up. Stop being a smartarse. I love you. The End.” I realize one that I haven’t done is a letter to my future husband, whose identity is still unknown. This is only a test, but *sigh* here goes[*]…

**Please excuse all forms of sappiness that are soon to follow. I’m not very good at it, but it’s sap nonetheless, and I’m too hard for all that.**
Dear Mr. Guy

How did this happen? I have no idea at what point in my life I met you, and when that whole love thing with the birdies and violins and baby deer came about, but here we are. Are we really about to do this? I guess everything’s all in place, or things are as they should be, else I probably wouldn’t be ready to change my name to *insert your last name here, or hyphenated last name*. This love thing is crazy. I can’t say I’ve really had it happen before, but now that I’m here, I understand.

Right now, I don’t know you (or maybe I do and it’s not known that we will be together or something), but I pray for you every day. Not that you’ll magically Apparate or floo into my home and sweep me off of my feet and we can fly into the sunset, happy forever, but that you had (or will have) a good day. I like to start with the basics. Hopefully no one will make you want to cut the big toe off of their firstborn, and you will have a great day. If your day doesn’t go well, I pray that you at least have the strength in you to admit it, and take it to the Lord. See, I like a nice Christian guy, so Mr. *whoever you are*, you WILL have to have a relationship with God that’s more than, “Uh, I go to church on Easter.” **No offense to those of you who do, but not for my hubby- “As for me and my house…” (Joshua 24:15).**

Not only do I hope that you’re having a good day, but that each (okay, maybe not each one) event in your life helps prepare you to be a better husband… dare I say, even the best, for me! (yeah, I can be a jerk like that- let you have a crappy life so you treat me better.. I’m working on it though.) At the same time, I hope that I’m being prepared to serve as your wife. At this point I don’t even fully know what that means, but I guess that’s probably why we’re not –><-- there yet. I know that in due time we'll be ready for each other. But first I must warn you of what you will get into. My family will intimidate you. Some of them I haven't seen much of, but considering I'm the oldest granddaughter on both sides, my dad, brother, uncles, and cousins will hate you on principle. I suggest not looking them directly in the eyes, alternate between letting them win and lose arm wrestling matches, and just say you like Maull's BBQ sauce, even if you have no idea what it is. By being who you are, you should get nothing but love from my mom, and the occasional side-eye from my sister, but I've come to believe her eyes just got stuck that way, so just ignore her like I have been doing. When we meet the Florida family, don't ask them to repeat anything- you'll only get more confused trying to decipher it all. Just smile and nod, and figure it out later. I know sometimes I'll be a bear to deal with, especially with the baby pterodactyl noise I make upon waking up (it's my yawny voice!), but I'll try to make it as less of a bumpy ride as possible. I'll keep my lady hygiene products away from your line of vision, and keep the bathroom door closed when doing *ahem* personal things. I'll make you breakfast on my off days. I'll make time for you when you need me to, even if it is the last 10 minutes of Hell's Kitchen (the only 10 minutes worth watching sometimes). I'll suffer through making (and possibly eating) your favorites, though you know you've got a self-proclaimed "picky eater with exotic tastes." I'll learn to cook your favorite "mama dishes" if you don't like my spin, and I'll even get along with your mama. Most moms like me, but I imagine marrying into the family is a different kind of like. I'll see when we get there. I hope to make you as happy as you'll make me. If not, pull me aside so we can figure it out. I'm sure that this whole being married thing is something that'll require lots of maintenance- sort of like a well-maintained car runs better than the one that sits and rusts. Other than that, get ready for the ride. It'll be bumpy at times, and other times it'll be smooth. I'll even keep the random adventures to a minimum if it's not your thing. I can find a happy medium. Hopefully we'll get to see a bunch of cool places along the way- together. Bring a camera. 🙂 With all the love I can muster for a (known or unknown) stranger, Mrs. Beez *insert last name or my last with yours hypenated*
*flourish at the end of signature*
*2 lovers + 2 gether= 4 ever (I went middle school on ya!)*

**End of le sap. Come back next time for something less sappy, like airplane fights!**

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