I’m sitting at my desk… JAMMIN’ to this new Beyonce. Not just a mere head-bob. No. I am full out chair dancing. I even have that fonky (FONKY) face goin. Beyonce’s persona is not so hot. I am not a fan. But Sasha Fierce is on fire!
Something like this but totally not.
First off let me say that I tolerate Beyonce. Ok… But I don’t like her. See I am not one of those crazy fans who has an alter-ego just like her. (JGeezy who?) I don’t have all of her CD’s and DVD’s. (Well I didn’t PAY for them). And I’ve never had The Beyonce Experience. I make fun of all those girls who do all of her dance moves.
Yes... that is me doing an old school dance.
I have never worn House of Dereon and I have no plans to don a lace-front. I do not workout everyday to “Green Light” and I do not secretly wish to have my ass implanted with Beyonce clone inserts. I.Do.Not.
This is the problem. I’m not a complete Beyonce Stan…. so why.. WHY!?! Have I been jamming so hard to this mess. Why dear sweet merciful baby Jesus do I know ALL THE MOVES to Single Ladies? And why can I not control myself from doing it every single time it comes on. No matter where I am. During the Election results party at Opera Get Me Bodied came on. I knew. I knew Single Ladies was next. I practically cleared the floor so that I could set out the video. But what can I say? I did it for my country.
I’m finding myself go deeper and deeper into depression over the recognition that I just might be a Bey fan. I thought I was more progressive than this. I thought that I was above the Beyoncification of the world today. Women using her to represent what beauty is. (Skinny, although super curvy, light skinned, long flowing hair). But here I am. In Love With My Radio
. Talking about how I’m a Diva
and how big my Ego
is. Even as I type this my skin is getting lighter.
Shit I think I just grew an ass.