Or did I never tell you?
You do realize we’re both lions and our daughters are Libras, born days apart right? Only thing is, Madonna’s been married one time more than me and there’s that teeny matter of the income gap between us. I’m working on it though, along with the whole Madonna physique thing. Well, I was.
Somewhere, between eating a sandwich and lifting 20 kilos, I got tired. I’m like, “Totsy, who the hell you kidding? You’re doing good to walk around the damn compound for an hour.” I imagine for Madonna to look the way she does, she’s doing far more than getting her heart rate up with brisk walking or that other jive ass exercise I call myself doing. And too, I imagine if she’s doing push-ups, she’s not on her knees doing them like me either. But then, I didn’t want her arms in the first place. I wanted Michelle Obama’s arms, Janet Jackson’s ass and Jennifer Lopez’s abs.
See, you have to piece together what you want in this life and go for it. Though somehow, I changed my mind. ‘Cause to be honest, I don’t have that kinda time. Seriously. None of them are writing books. If they do, they hire themselves a ghost writer and then get a personal trainer to work their bodies out and a chef to cook them skinny foods. I have no such luxuries.
And then, I look around at the women folk I’m working with now and I ain’t bragging or nothing but I know physically, I’m much better off than they are. So I get to thinking, ‘I must be the Madonna among us.’ And for real folks, sometimes you know, whether you vocalize it or not, and I don’t. Which makes me think I have to work harder in the little gym over here if I wanna keep up my “Madonna” status. Maybe I need to walk around this place a little faster or take up running.
But folks, I know me. I ain’t running nowhere unlessen something’s chasing behind me, trying to bite me in the ass. I ain’t hardly trying to have somebody rationing my food to me either. And actually, I’m doing a decent enough job at that myself. I’m back to eating apples again since I’ve grown tired of cooked foods. And the whole deal with getting Jennifer Lopez abs, well, it just ain’t working out being that I only may do 100 crunches a week. Shit, I get busy doing nothing and forget sometimes. You know, my mind’s preoccupied with lifting my abaya when I walk up stairs, trying to keep folk from jumping ahead of me in line, trying to figure out a way to get into some trouble over here without going to jail and narrowing down the shit on my to-do list once I finish the list I’m working on now. I’m just busy, folks. I’m living a real life. Forget Madonna and all them.