Travel Adventures - The Bad Passport Photo

Usually around this time of year, I start thinking of extended time off from work and a trip that would allow me to recharge my batteries and more importantly, renew my spirit. But while I love the destination and the adventures that come with a vacation, I hate some of the other stuff, like packing, hotel hunting and trying to stay within budget. One of the things however that has drastically improved over the years?

My passport photo.

No...that's not me. Mine was much worse.

Let's go back several years when I was still in high school and therefore obligated to my parents for everything. My mum took my brother and I to get new passports, and this meant passport photos. My teen years were not cute by any stretch of the imagination, and worse than that, passport photo take-outers don't have any consideration for your awkward teenaged looks. The result therefore was catastrophic! It was simply the most hideous photo ever and my mother did not even bat an eye. She did not offer to have it re-done. She simply paid for them and took them. I would be stuck with this gruesome identification marker for ten years!

Not even babies are immune
from the bad passport photo!

Fast forward to my first trip to Barbados, and I am no longer the awkward teen but a young professional, with movie star looks (okay, okay...maybe not movie star but cute enough). I step towards the Immigration desk, passport in hand and smile an award winning smile. It was a trip that held a lot of promise and excitement and it showed in my entire being. I was beautiful and beaming. Beaming...until...

Immigration guy: This is you?
Me: Yes, it is.
IG: (looking at me, then the pic, then me, then the pic) This is not you.
Me: Sadly, it is.
IG now calls Immigration woman.
IW: This is not you, man. What is your name?
Me: (annoyed, I give my name)
Together now, they now contemplate what to do next but one thing was certain, they were not contemplating letting me in the country! lol.
IW: You have any other ID?
Me: My US visa is in there. The pic is better.
They scan passport for my US visa pic and sure enough, stamp my form and send me on my way, but not before...
IW: I would change that photo, miss.

I was really expecting to be taken to the back room you see on tv - you know the one with the one dim lightbulb and the metal chairs? Needless to say, short of losing one's passport and going through the runaround of getting a new one, you're pretty much stuck with this heinous photo until your passport expires.

After that, I had a chronic fear of the Immigration desk. I would stride confidently to the desk when it was my turn in much the same way a drug smuggler would approach Customs - brimming with fake confidence to distract the authorities from the sheer panic he feels while carrying a suitcase full of 'blow'.

I was also stopped a couple years later in Paris and almost not let back in London because of said photo. Again my US visa and my Schengen visa as back up, saved my ass. While flattered that all these border officials thought I was too damn cute to be the creature in my passport pic, it was a real pain and slight embarrassment, lemme tell you.

London Gatwick - many a tale I can tell about my passport here

So when my passport finally expired, I made this photo thing into a real production - back in the day when you took your own photos to the passport office. I made sure my hair was camera ready, took some time on my makeup, wore a flattering colour (I was in black in the heinous photo cause I was almost goth in high school with the black) and accessorised. It still managed to not be the hottest thing ever but it was a vast improvement. Never again did I have to send people to the back of my passport to my visas to avoid being put back on the plane or sent to the little back room. I had been properly traumatised from those incidents and from that photo. And now, with the photos being taken at the office, even more time and thought goes into the passport photo get-up, not to mention, strict attention to timing because when that photo is snapped, most of the times by a surly Immigration Officer, you want to make sure your facial expression is passport-friendly!

Still, it was not as bad as someone I know who was forced to remove her wig at the Immigration Office before having her picture taken, because 1. the hair covered her face and 2. the Immigration Officer had no sense or decency to simply offer her time to brush it back. What was under that wig was NOT camera ready and after waiting months for an appointment, she simply could not go through with having her passport marked by a photo of her with nashy "under-wig" hair for 10 years!

Travelling has so many twists and turns. So many different factors make up this amazing adventure. How do people not love it??

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Effortless Beauty, My A...

I hate going to the salon. I like what I get out of the visit - cute hair, cute nails, cute eyebrows, cute skin - but I hate the actual process.

With the Christmas season in full effect and all the ridiculous awesome events that become necessary in my world, I often take advantage and get myself in some kinda order. I cannot tell you the last time I had a manicure for example but bet your last dollar, the season is a catalyst for my nails being rescued from myself.

Had I tried to do this myself on that day, it would have been a mess. I just have NO TIME!

With one party on Friday, I called ahead of time and booked my appointment with my hairdresser.

My hairdresser - nice lady, super talented with a pair of scissors, a jar of hair dye and the like - but so chatty. I don't mind chatty, and salon banter is among the best kind of ole talk any woman can find. But I do not appreciate it when it compromises my time. She chats and when she chats, she stops whatever she is doing to get her chat on. I prepared myself for maybe an extra half hour for the most. How naive of me.

So I get there for my 9am appointment and one woman is on the chair, with a relaxer being applied, and another is waiting. No assistant in sight. Bad mood begins...now. I mean, I had volunteered to come earlier to avoid all this, and was assured that Friday was a slow day and I would be in and out. I had a FULL day ahead and having already not slept well on Thursday, was loathe to spend all morning smelling relaxers and hair colour.

But sit I did, and sit I had to. After applying first relaxer, she hustled me into the chair and started in earnest on my coif, but then lady in the back says the relaxer is burning and she hustles to rescue her and then hustles me out of the chair again to start on relaxer #2. Still no assistant. Bad mood grows.

Still, in trying to avoid being a bitch, I decided to use second relaxer application time to get a simple polish - since a full manicure was going to be impossible with my time now being wasted here. But chattiness is clearly the M.O. in here cause my simple polish became a funeral procession, with nail polish wand in mid-air on many an occasion while nail polish girl made a point with her hands. Multitasking - one can argue one's point and still get the nail polish job done in quick time. Every time she took that brush off my nail, and waved it around while arguing, I cut my eye at her so hard she should have exploded. I mean, WTF!!!

In the meantime, I am glancing over my shoulder to see where relaxer #2 is at and she is almost done. But then, relaxer #1 needs to blow dry and style. Flabber-effin-gasted. But then it works since nail polish wand is still everywhere else but on my finger nails. By this time, I am so vex I could burst.

After hairstyle is completed, I see another woman, who came in a good hour after I did, hustling her rotund ass to the chair....MY chair...trying to get her hair 'did'. Well, it was at this point, I just could not hold it in any longer!

Me: Excuse me. You just got here. You have to wait cause I am next.
Her: But you are polishing
Me: I will be done in 5 seconds (cut eye at nail girl, who took the hint) and my 9am appointment is already long overdue so unless your appointment was at 8.30, I am next. (and in my mind, I say "yuh better haul yuh ass back to your seat, lady")

The cut eye she gave me, could not begin to rival the cut eye I gave her. Hairdresser also took the hint and burnt time making herself a cup of coffee so she could resist any temptation of doing Fat Mama's hair and avoid a cussout. I was now Scary Client.

Finally, I was in the chair again, and finally, she was working on me sans interruption until they started talking about the news, specifically the news about the little girl who was found dead in her home in Maloney, and in her deep emotional investment in this conversation, she snipped not the ends, but a wad of hair as in her mind, she had already consulted me on this style she wanted to give me, when in reality there was to be no new style - just a cute colour. I was too vex to react. Paralysis by vexation!!! I found the strength to mutter to myself and to my God - Sweet Jesus - cover this lady in your blood and with your mercy, or in other words, don't let me physically harm this woman! Needless to say, whether I wanted it or not, I was GETTING a new style, and I left that salon, at 1pm, with hair I hated, and with no time to do the 99 other things I needed to do that day. Just enough time to hustle back to my car, grab some toiletries and rush home.

I got home so hungry and so vex, I cleared the house (lol). But ever the optimist, I willed myself to make it right, saying cute accessories and a wicked green smokey eye would rescue me from total catastrophe.

My awesome necklace against the matching wrap in case I got cold in my
solid green strapless dress. Gotta love fashion recycling.

And it did. And actually, the hair was very, very pretty. Maybe it was my mega annoyance at the point in time, but I got home and I loved the hair. And I looked hot. I was tired and had a headache from eating nothing at all all day, but the night was a blast, and by the time my head hit the super comfy pillows at the hotel, I was exhausted but with a smile on my face. Still, it was a helluva day!

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Fire and Brimstone for you Evil Weave Wearers

So a friend shared this story, about a pastor who has banned the evil among us from his church - the vile sinners being those women, those Jezebels who worship, not God, but the Indian and Brazilian Remy.  For the uninformed, the preacher man is referring to women who wear weaves. Yes...home boy is not a supporter of the "hair in a bag" revolution, and as he says, he is tired of the "phony ponies". To this end, he has declared a ban on all those women seeking God, but who have a weave sewn in or glued on.

Now I find the l'il pastor bright and farse because I do not understand what a woman's hairstyle has to do with her faith or with her quest for peace and salvation. Whether she is bald, rocking dreadlocks or 14" Brazilian Remy in 1B, that should not be his problem. Everyone has a right to self expression, whether it is via tattoos, piercings or hairstyles. You don't have to like it, but just accept it. Unless that weave has not been washed for weeks, and is rank smelling, these women are not hurting anybody.

I guess he does not listen to gospel music because I have seen the super fabulous contemporary gospel artistes, like Yolanda Adams, and they are rockin' the best Remy money can buy.

That being said, I do agree with Pastor's point where he says

I lead a church where our members are struggling financially. I mean really struggling. “Yet, a 26 year old mother in my church has a $300 weave on her head.

Yolanda Adams - rockin' that Remy

Here, I can co-sign with pastor, because I have seen it. It is all around me. You see them on the news, holding placards, saying they cannot feed their children, and life is hard, but they rocking EXPENSIVE Remy, have the best manicures, more gold than Trinidad James, and made up with the fake eyelashes, in the best brands. Again, it may be your right to spend your money however you like, but let's be real with the complaining if your entire look could feed said children for a month or even two. I have a job and I gasp at the prices of these "premium" hair types. Gasp and walk away. Ladies, you cannot eat the Remy and your kids cannot eat the Remy and sorry, but noone will take you seriously if you claim you are suffering but your hair, and the rest of you for that matter, cost as much as a monthly grocery bill for a small family.

So maybe pastor is just fed up of the women who come to him all done up, and complaining that God has forsaken them. I do not agree with our dear pastor, that all women who wear weaves have low self-esteem. I have rocked weaves and my friends can attest that I "over like" myself. lol. I just am not a hair person in the way that some women can keep their hair looking ultra fabulous at all times, and the ease and convenience of a weave done to my specifications is what sometimes works for me. So pastor needs to cool it.

I do agree with the author though, in that I hope that pastor is investing the same amount of energy in preaching the gospel, and counselling those lost members of the flock who may have been led astray by sex, drugs and other such vices, as he has been in admonishing women for their choice of hairstyle. Hair a Christian doth not make.

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To all the Fat Haters...

Elle Rondes, owning her body and
not giving a sh.... Brilliant!

So, I have never hidden the fact that I am not a pencil in terms of body shape and size. I am more like a cute hourglass, with some extra padding. Needless to say, the hourglass has expanded in recent months, but I am not crying over it. Some may say, fat. I say “awesomely padded”. Lol.


Of course, I am not being indifferent either. I have cut way back on the snacks to start. Gone are the daily Magnum bars in primetime. Lol. (Magnum ice cream bars are awesome, aren’t they?) And I eat more vegetables now, though eating more fruit is still an issue, if you refuse to consider wine and strawberry daiquiris as part of the fruit family. And, therein lies my major weakness – happy hour weight gain. I can eat salad all week long. It just takes ONE happy hour outing to derail all my best efforts.

Of course I am also in the gym and while not a lover of working out (understatement of the millennium), I do it because the benefits far outweigh the disadvantages. I have more energy during the day, I burn off some of those fruity stepchildren from the weekend, and my pants don’t need loosening.

This is where I would like to expand on a previously highlighted point, in a previous entry. Getting comments from anyone about my weight is annoying, but getting comments from FAT people about my weight is just infuriating – especially fat people who do not know what a salad looks like, or whose idea of working out is walking to the fridge. I make no apologies for this cause I am tired of fat, lazy people having an opinion. When you get yourself together, then talk to me. When you can rock a salad over a Big Mac, then you may comment on my slice of cake on a Saturday night. When you can run a lap around the Queen’s Park Savannah at 4 in the morning with me, then you can look at my waistline. And when your comments are uplifting and CONSTRUCTIVE, then we can talk about my fat ass all day. But until then, keep your comments to yourself.

I am happy, my people are happy, so why are you making my dress size your problem? Don’t you have enough problems in your own life? If you translate being awesome as having nothing positive to say about others, no matter what their size, colour or pay cheque, then you need more than cake to medicate yourself. The time taken to look at others could be better invested in being the best you can be – whether you are 300lbs or 100.

Don’t worry about me though, cause I am already there. Fat or not, I am truly super, baby! Believe it!

My weekend was awesome by the way and included a good dose of wine, champagne, white chocolate bread pudding (can we say, SINFUL??), great, great friends, lots of laughter and fun and good memories to last me the week. Oh…you said something? I did not think so.

Happy Monday!!!

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Fat Girls are the Talk of the Town

Everywhere you turn, someone is talking about a "fat" girl, or about being "fat". And "fat" these days is anything above size 0, making me morbidly obese by contemporary standards.

On the one hand, you have those who are being verbally stabbed to death because they have put some weight on. Exhibit A - former Miss World and Bollywood actress, Aishwarya Rai - before and after. I mean, from the elephant sound effects in this video to the articles online about her "flab", this is just horrible.



Aishwarya Rai's Shocking FAT Pics by desimad

I am glad that she has not even bothered to respond to these ridiculous articles and blogs about her weight. She just had a baby for crying out loud. Her husband seems to still think she is pretty awesome. So what is the issue here? One blog even said, and I tried to find the article again, the average woman throws off the baby weight and goes back to being slim after the baby and Aishwarya is just fat and lazy. That kinda blew my mind. The average woman? Really? I think too many people mix up celebrities who turn up on the red carpet 3 months after having a baby, looking like a pencil, after 3 solid months of work with Gunnar Nelson or some $500/hr trainer, with real women, with households to run, no nannies etc.

Stupid.

Then Tyra comes out today to say that had she started modelling in 2012, she would never have made it as a model, as at a whopping size 4, she would have been too heavy to be a supermodel. There is something not even mildly disturbing about that, in that it is very true unfortunately.

Miranda Lambert came out and said she is happy when she is a toned, not flabby size 8, something I can appreciate because on my own journey against the flab, I seriously have no desire to be a toothpick. I am not trying to impress anyone or look like anyone. I just know what makes me comfortable and this size is definitely not it. Like Miranda, I think I have a healthy appreciation for my body type but still want to be healthy and feel good about myself.

So the female body is and will always be under scrutiny - some will accept who we are, whatever our lbs say, and some will tear us to shreds.

This is what your husband may
look like in a couple years

But noone ever talks about the obese men. Noone seems to be making disgusting, insulting videos about their weight gain. Noone talks about how they go to the dogs after a couple years of wedded bliss and too many weekends on the couch, eating home cooked meals and watching football.

It does not matter that women get pregnant and God forbid put weight on and even worse, keep some of it on. What do men do?

Noone talks about the "letter b" syndrome - the shape your once trim husband takes on after a couple years, from a fit letter "I" to a lower case "b". For once I would like to open up my web browser and have the focus be on men's butts and bellies.

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Spanx - Surely a New Method of Torture

(The blog looks different, doesn't it?)

I remember saying once, If I ever get to the point in my life where I need to buy and ultimately wear Spanx, I will shoot myself.


Pass me the gun!

I walked into the lingerie store yesterday and there I was - in the control undies section. I could hardly believe it myself. What a nightmare. I now understand the pain of the corset wearing ladies back in the day.

The sales girl was happy enough to show me all the various versions of this thing, while trying to be part of a fake sisterhood.

Oh yes. I have a pair of these. These are good.

She said this with a straight face as I did an internal eye roll because this heifer was as fat as a spaghetti stick with no obvious signs of lumps or bumps. Lady, gimme a break!

There was one brand of torture wear - it has to be torture to yank yourself into these contraptions, and risk fainting after an hour of having your guts compressed to their breaking point - called Body Wrap. The thing looked like mummification of the living. I could not understand how anyone could feel comfortable in that. Lingerie sessions are usually fun and sexy but this one was rather gloomy. On top of it all, these predators are making a killing off fat people. These things are not cheap. I mean, wow...I have to pay through my nose for your product to literally suck the air out of me?

I put Body Wrap, Spanx, Maidenform and all the other sick brands back on their racks and walked out the store in total denial, and without making a purchase. I have somehow convinced myself that in 6 days I can somehow miraculously transform my body from Michelin tyre dude to Heidi "The Body" Klum and can tell Spanx et al to bite me. I say this after confidently and unabashedly eating 2 chocolate chunk muffins and having a couple vodka spritzers today, not to mention the roti lunch. Lovely.

In reality, I will most likely be back in the store on Saturday morning to get me something so that my ass does not look like a satellite at my event that night. It does however give me yet another wake up call that I need to get myself back in gear with the workouts and also quit snacking. Seriously.

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From Oompa Loompa to Glamazon!

Fierce as Tyra

I have a couple events coming up for which I needed formal evening dresses. Now that I am more oompa loompa than Tyra, I could not realistically depend on my stash of glamazon dresses in my wardrobe so I had made up my mind to face the store, face the horror of shopping for a dress. Now as I mentioned in an earlier post, shopping here can be traumatic. Add the fact that I am a wee bit (a lot) fatter than usual, I was definitely not looking forward to this.

It started off really shaky, but I would just like to say thank you to Peter Elias for saving a diva from potential dress failure. Not only did the store have dresses that looked halfway presentable, but all the dresses I tried on looked absolutely brilliant. I mean, the guy is not called the queen-maker for nothing. Having dressed several of our Miss Universe delegates in the past, I was really hoping for miracles. And yes...he still has the magic touch. I felt quite chuffed as the Brits would say, as I tried on dress after dress and got not just the "I am being paid to do this" accolades from the staff, but the genuine oohs and aahs from the other customers who kept asking for their size in the dresses I was trying, and from the husbands there with their wives (on the down low, of course...lol). It was fun. Shopping was fun again.

I could have bought all the gowns I tried, but woman cannot eat a dress when starvation hits, so I only got two. But I am happy...and for a moment, I did not feel like an oompa loompa but I felt like the diva I know I am.

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My Diva Idol

Miss Piggy for M.A.C.

My idol! Who would believe that a puppet pig would be my idol? lol.

Piggy is the frickin' greatest. She is the muppet version of me. A little chubby. A bit aggressive. Says what's on her mind. Very glam and stuff. Very beautiful. Very loveable. Not the same taste in men, as I don't do green nor do I do frogs.

And now, to learn that Piggy has her own line with my fave cosmetic line - M.A.C. How can I not love this creature?

I also love this segment where she talks about being plus-sized. I love that she, being primarily geared to young girls (don't judge me), embraces who she is - a full figured female (albeit, pork). You really underestimate how these made up characters can impact young lives. I mean, I am grown and think Piggy is pretty awesome, so imagine what she does to lift the self-esteem of young girls? Piggy rocks!

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Penis on the Train and other Funny Weekend Moments

Nicki Minaj rocks this orange wig. Hot!
Photo credit: Thirsty Roots

Something is wrong with me. Why was I awake at 8.00am on a Sunday, especially considering that I have not had a full night's sleep in a few days, that I was up at the crack of dawn yesterday to keep my salon appointment, and that I was out late last night? I really do not appreciate you, internal alarm!

So as I mentioned at the end of the last post, my hair seems to be totally f...d. It was just falling out and was completely jacked. It caused some minor to major depression and I just decided my hairdresser in London would have to double as therapist. I was perfectly prepared to go pixie short for the cause, but she told me not to do anything that drastic just yet. So while it looks a bit better, it's still pretty crap. I'm not happy.

Needless to say, I joined the hordes of black women in London yesterday who wear fake hair as I pulled out my awesome wig for a night out. Funny, as I walked through the tube station, a gust of wind caught it and I was praying to all the gods under the moon and sun that this thing did not blow off. lol. I pictured the wig blowing off my head, landing on the tracks just before the train gets there, causing a disruption on the Northern line, thus causing hundreds of London commuters to be plotting to kill me, all because I am a bit vain. Well, I held on to said wig to avert this scenario.

Then I had a good chuckle when I went into Sainsbury's after dinner cause I had a craving for sausages again. You know how I love me some UK sausages. And behold, there were sausage bargains. And 25p bread. A student's wet dream!! The 25p bread caused a bit of a scene in the bread aisle as I, poor, hungry, unemployed student, thought - wow...25p bread. I must have this. On the other hand, employed Londoner, was aghast that I would consider buying bargain bread and made such a big deal about the bread. Really, buddy? But then he makes a big deal about a lot of things beyond my comprehension. Nothing was wrong with the bread except that its expiration date is Aug 2, by which time the bread would be consumed anyway. But noooo...it was a bread argument between me and the Sainsbury's girl, trying to explain that 25p bread was perfectly good bread, and employed Londoner on high horse, who felt I should get 89p bread. lol. Needless to say, the 25p bread is in my fridge and I had 2 rolls for breakfast and they were lovely. I have no problem in buying 89p bread, dammit, but why let a bargain pass me by?

And no Saturday night would be complete without a night cap and some penis. On the train, no less. Look away if you are a prude. Look away now. Faces hidden to protect the innocent.

Hen night, obviously. She and her tool caused quite a stir! lol.

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Silent Sunday: Natural Beauty

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Fashion Musings by Trininista

Yesterday's day out sparked a few OMG moments in my rational fashion mind and I just wanted to express just a few fashion musings today.

1. Try as much as possible to always put on a great show...or at least a decent show.

I love colour contrasts. You should too.

Looking good should not just be because you want to impress someone. It should be about how you feel and about feeling good about yourself. So even if you don't have a date, or you're not meeting anyone or going anywhere in particular, one should always aim to feel good about the way one looks. Aim for hotness, based on what hotness means to you. I don't know how many times I have to say this. Once. Twice.

When I got dressed yesterday morning, I had no idea I would eventually meet up with someone. I chose a t-shirt in my favourite colour (looking at my blog, do you need to ask what that is?), a pair of jeans and cute blue denim pumps. I accessorised with a blue pashmina and as the sun peeked out for a couple minutes, I used shades of green (MAC Greensmoke) and blue (Sacha blue something) on my eyes with just a touch of mascara (never leave home without it!). The end result was not Trinidad's Next Top Model but it was me and I was happy with it and felt I looked cute. So when with 5 minutes to catch my train, I got the text with my friend (a man) agreeing to meet me for ice cream, I was not scrambling to change into something presentable. And...I got a compliment, and coming from this dude - major win!

2. Don't be afraid of accessories.

One of my fave bracelets ever

You may think you can't pull off some of the summer styles, or may be a very easygoing, laid back kinda gal. I love comfort. Jeans, baby tee and flip flops. But you can always glam even the most middle of the road outfit and make it unique to you. Don't be afraid of scarves or cute hair accessories. Don't be afraid of big or colourful pieces of jewellry. Make them your signature pieces. A great necklace or bracelet can punch up any ole t-shirt. I have a cheap green t-shirt that I love wearing (i.e. beat to death) and usually pair it with jeans and gold coloured flip flops. For that reason, I add a great bracelet with it.

Yes. I wore blue twice yesterday. Bite me!

But don't overdo it either. My rule of thumb is, if the ears are busy, keep the neck free and vice versa - if you are going to wear a bold necklace, wear simple earrings. So I busied up the ears with these earrings last night and left my neck bare, but added a bold bracelet. I saw too many women with too many things going on last night - chandileer earrings with bold necklaces and huge rings and a million bracelets and let's not talk about the makeup...

3. Or let's. The makeup.

Gonna keep this one real simple. This may not be your bag of tea but it works for me. If, God help you, you are going to do a really heavy eye, like a smokey eye, don't add insult to the face with a bold, garish lip. A soft gloss would suffice. The bat wings aka fake eyelashes AND a neon lip just...wow...I am surprised these girls have significant others.

4. Please dress for your body

While I totally advocate hotness across the board, please understand that hot does not mean tight, revealing or short. You can look totally smokin' in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, with some flip flops (I have convinced myself of this). It's all about the way you carry the outfit and yourself. And while I am not myself a skinny minny and I think beauty has nothing to do with dress size, it does have to do with dressing to fit your body. For example: Ladies, if your breasts require a size 36D bra, please do not try to squeeze those suckers into a 36C. I cannot tell you how much boob spillage I saw yesterday alone. Isn't that uncomfortable?

5. Heels

I love heels. I mean,duh...my blog title says it all. However, I am also practical. Last night, despite modern convention, I wore a pair of flat pumps to a night out in the club. This after too many hellish London nights, trying to find bus stops etc and my feet screaming in heels. So I left the heels in the cupboard and bravely wore my black flats. They were cute, stylish and went nicely with my pants. Guess what? Noone cared. Not the person I went with, not the people in the club. In Trinidad, where I owned a car and would just need to walk from the car park to the venue, heels on a night out were not an issue. Here, where everywhere entails a proper walk, and where last night, I spent about 15 minutes looking for the rahtid bus stop, flat (cute) shoes were required. I was happy to see other sexy ladies rocking the summer sandals and low heeled pumps and also quite amused to see the skyscraper heels and the women who sat all night in them. I mean, why come to a club if you're going to sit, sour-faced all night, and then quarrel with your boyfriend or husband because he did not drive and you now have to face the walk to catch your night bus?

That's it for today. I get these sudden urges to speak out against the atrocities I witness sometimes.

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Review: Revlon CustomEyes Mascara

Revlon's CustomEyes Mascara

So after an awesome 3 weeks in Trinidad and Tobago, I am back in the land of fish and chips and I was excited to find my latest package on the table - eagerly awaiting its new mistress. My new CustomEyes mascara courtesy the great people at RevlonUK. As I had mentioned before, one of my fashion must haves is mascara, and now after a few uses, I can give my take on my new best friend.

So what's so special about this mascara you ask? Well, it has a customisable wand, which gives you two options for eyelash porn. With the twist of the cap, you can create length and drama, or length and definition. I have to admit, I tried the mascara without a primer and I was not that thrilled at first. I thought the formula itself was a bit clumpier than I am used to, but I am patient.  I was happy that RevlonUK sent me the Blackest Black mascara for my dark skin and eyes, and after a coat of my primer, it really worked for me. The length it gives really is fabulous and the definition and drama are commendable as well. If this mascara came with a primer, it would be perfect.

The brush is made of plastic though, and since I had never used a plastic mascara brush before, it took me a while to adjust to that harder texture on my lashes. I read other reviews that said they found the mascara flaked after long wear. I personally did not have this problem but I always use primer on my lashes as well so not sure if this contributed to my personal eyelash success.

All in all, I like the mascara - my first Revlon mascara at that. I still like my Maybelline XXL mascara though, and my Clinique, and I felt I got a better result with this Revlon mascara after a coat of primer as well. But all in all, not bad. I still think Revlon are the kings of nail polish though and to my great disappointment, I still cannot find my bottle of Plum Seduction (hint hint).

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In Beauty Terms, My Best Friend is not the Diamond

They say diamonds are a girl's best friend and I love sparkly, shiny stuff, but let's be real. Can I afford diamonds? I can barely afford a pack of pork chops. There are some things I have control over at this point and some things I do not. Diamonds - no control. None. But, my best friend in daily life, without a doubt is...


These days I use Maybelline XXL Extensions Mascara. It's really good.

 ...my mascara wand. I have said it enough times - my one beauty must-have is mascara. I can go with just about anything else, but mascara is a must. And there are varying degrees of mascaraliciousness. For a quick trip to Hi-Lo, one quick coat. For a night out, primer and 2 coats.

Sexy mascara!

I typically would buy Clinique's mascara and primer but before travelling, I could not find it, so I bought this Maybelline mascara, which is also pretty good and even better, the primer and mascara were in one tube. Primer. I never knew about primer until maybe 2006, when I bought my first Clinique mascara and primer duo. Now I swear by it. Not only does it condition your lashes and prevent that crunchiness that mascara can cause on your lashes, but it also works as a great base for the application of the mascara, and lengthens the lashes as well. For someone like me, who is not blessed with full, voluminous lashes, primer is a must. Maybelline's XXL has Step 1, the primer and Step 2, the mascara in the same tube which really is convenient especially when travelling, because you know my mascara must go in the little zip-loc bag in my hand luggage.

And second behind the Marvellous Mascara? Eyeshadow. I don't wear eyeshadow every day. There are some days I go to class, sans colour, either because I am late, feeling rather blah, or just prefer a clean eye. During the day, earth tones work best and I have a mixture of Sacha, L'oreal and M.A.C.. For night though, predominantly, the mysterious tones of M.A.C.

M.A.C. - my evening shades, though I have used them for daytime as well.
It's all about the application!

It seems almost anti-climactic to end this entry with my final must-have, but I mentioned before that I do not wear lipstick, and the British weather has caused me for the first time in my life to have dry, chapped lips. So bite me if you want to make a comment about must-have #3.

Vaseline Lip Therapy - a must-have for cold weather lips

 I do wear lipgloss as I said, but mainly to go out - not to sit in a lecture hall or in the library. C'mon. I got a laugh yesterday when Unilever posted this photo...

Marmite flavoured Vaseline? Nasty.

...which clearly had to have been an April Fool's gag, cause after trying marmite last weekend, I will not understand why anyone would want THAT taste on their lips. Blech.

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Makeup Porn, courtesy Chanel

The eyes have it!

I love a well done eye. Makeup, I mean. It's always the part I place most focus on when doing makeup, especially since I don't wear lipstick as I mentioned here. These days, I have nowhere to go where I can do a pretty makeup job like this. At least not anytime in the near future, but I love makeup porn. I just do. My makeup job these days includes chapstick and mascara (my one daily  must-have).

Me? I've been alright though - trying to focus on school and controlling hormonal rages. Managed to get out of the house this weekend for dinner and a movie. Huge thumbs down though to the snoggers next to us. I mean, if you really want to spend 2 hours kissing, can't you do it at home?

Thumbs up to Wahaca at Canary Wharf, specifically to our waiter, Brendan, who was a ball of energy and courtesy. I just love Wahaca.

But, Matthew McConaughey - can he be any hotter? The Lincoln Lawyer was excellent and for me and my date - both of us huge Michael Connelly fans - it was well scripted and well cast. I give it a thumbs up - an unmanicured, shabby cuticles, thumbs up!
 
I really love the Black Pearl nail colour Lisa is wearing in the video. Nail polish porn.

Lust and enjoy as much as I did.

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Threading One's Way to Beauty

Charlotte asked in the comments section about threading and I meant to blog about my London threading experience so here it is.

When my eyebrows are bushy and look like two caterpillars, I feel undone. It's amazing how two areas of hair can make or break your diva moment. Unkempt eyebrows are a no-no. God bless the women who came up with tweezing, waxing and threading. Perfect eyebrows really frame the face, make eyemakeup look polished and clean and just are...well...necessary. If I were stranded on an island, I would want perfect eyebrows.

Worse is when someone mauls your eyebrows. I have had many a bad eyebrow experience - both at the hands of so-called professionals and self-inflicted. The Voldemort look is not attractive and I have learnt the critical skill of filling in "bald spots" with the light feathering of a dark brown eyebrow pencil. lol

At home, I would have my eyebrows waxed. In London, I have them threaded. I had never even heard of threading before my visits here but threading booths are common in my neck of the woods, and for a fiver, convenient as well. As the name suggests, threading employs a strand of thread, which is rolled over the brow or wherever you want work done. This traditional technique is widely practised in India and the Middle East, and apparently, in London. lol. Seriously though, I guess where there are lot of Middle Eastern immigrants, threading in this city is quite common. I am not complaining. It's great.

So when I realised that trying to tame these bushy brows myself was an exercise in futility back in October, I headed to the mall to have my brows threaded. It's quite popular as well, as the long line of women ahead of me confirmed. All sorts of women were waiting - black women, white women, Asian women. I really did not know what to expect from two women standing in a corner of the mall - no salon, no door - just a small booth, with a couple chairs and a cash register. But when I considered my options - an expensive wax job that I could not guarantee would not burn off my eyebrows, or worse, trying to neaten my brows myself - well, I stayed in the line.

Someone had already described threading as stomach churning, so I was going brave. But in the end, it was not that bad. It's not the most comfortable thing and I would even say, the pain of waxing strips coupled with hot wax being yanked off my brows is more tolerable than the thin thread slicing into my follicles. The end result though - very good. My brows were perfect. Threading gives the threader a lot of control over the shape of the brow, and once she knows what line and length she is going for, then it is pretty easy.

I will probably go this weekend to get them done. But here is a great video from a self-threader. I don't think I could do it myself though.

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Say No to Shopping in Pyjamas!



Shopping in pyjamas - UNACCEPTABLE
Photo credit: BBC

By the way, I have finally dusted the cobwebs off my @trininista twitter handle so follow me! Link to the left!

So...after my lunch date, I idled around a bit and then got my train and decided I needed a few things at Sainsbury's. I was almost out of bagels, and it was to be a quick stop - in and out. Now, there is a phenomenon here which really gets me. It affects me deeply. It rattles me to the core as a woman, as a person, as someone who takes more than 5 minutes to fix myself before venturing out into the public domain.

Shopping in pyjamas.

As I walked through the supermarket, looking for my bagels, I walked into a woman, in full sleep wear. To make matters worse, she was wearing the awful Primark jammies I have seen on many a visit to the famed store. I could not believe it. If this was a fashion statement, it was a highly negative one. Who on earth would want to be seen in public in their pyjamas? At 5.30pm. It is both unsightly and reeks of low self esteem. Not only was she in her pyjamas, but it looked like she had literally just rolled off the bed - nasty, bed hair and a face that looked devoid of energy. And it's not just wearing say the pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt. I could maybe, depending on the bottoms, excuse this (this is a really strong maybe). But girlfriend was in the full set - pyjama bottoms, pyjama top - an awful multicoloured get up, completed by socks and slippers.

I have run out of the house in my pyjamas once - but 1) just the bottoms which are a solid black, 2) it was 9pm, 3) I wore a t-shirt and a hoodie and proper shoes. Not the full pyjama ensemble with my bunny slippers and a do-rag!

Acceptable grocery shopping fashion

I don't carrrrrrrrrrrre how tired you are, miss. You can change into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Now in Trinidad, some women take this supermarket thing to new levels. My own personal supermarket mode of dress - jeans, a baby tee, flip flops. A dab of mascara cause my mascara goes with me everywhere. But there are supermarketnistas back home who, for want of a better analogy, use the food aisles as catwalks. Heels, tight jeans, loads of makeup, blown out hair, dangly earrings. To each her own, but in my experience, the supermarket dating pool is rather bleak. The meat boys appreciate it for sure, and the hungry husbands tagging along with wifey, and granted there are the occasional single stunners, but generally - Trini supermarkets are not like the supermarkets on tv. You don't meet the man of your dreams while squeezing tomatoes or looking at bags of carrots. It just does not happen - or at least it has never happened to me. Whether I am going to the wrong Hi-Lo or at the wrong times may be up for debate, but the full fashion attack is really, in my opinion, not necessary.

This is an option if you're on the prowl
for more than bagels and pasta. lol

However, a shower, application of a toothpaste covered toothbrush to the mouth, a quick brush to the hair or a head scarf, and maybe some lip gloss if you wanna stretch it, are just essential. C'mon ladies. Pyjamas are bed wear. It is nasty to me. It means you slept all night, or did God knows what, and have come to stand next to me, with your unwashed body, touching my tomatoes. Can we make a ribbon in support of no pyjama shopping? lol.

What was even more alarming was this report by the BBC. I was innocently looking for a Google'd photo of a pyjama clad shopper to include in the post and found that this atrocious practice is widespread -so much so that the frickin' BBC has an entire article on it. And the Daily Mail! An excerpt, which was ALARMING to say the least -

A Tesco store has asked customers not to shop in their pyjamas or barefoot. Notices have been put up in the chain's supermarket in St Mellons in Cardiff saying: "Footwear must be worn at all times and no nightwear is permitted."
A spokesman said Tesco did not have a strict dress code but it did not want people shopping in their nightwear in case it offended other customers. (BBC)

I cannot believe a supermarket had to actually waste ink to make a sign asking people to dress and wear shoes to come to the supermarket. Unreal. Please. It does offend me. It does. Don't do it. Whether it is a quick pop in for cigarettes or an hour long outing for groceries - leave the pyjamas in the bedroom and make yourself seemly. I mean, have a little consideration for your appearance and the fact that you just never know who you may meet - even doing the most random things, like squeezing tomatoes. My motto is - always try to look presentable when out. You don't have to look like a top model, but look like you care about your appearance at least. And if you need a real life account of why this is important, then let me tell you how I roll on a normal Saturday in my neighbourhood Hi-Lo back in Trinidad.

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In my Beauty Bag - Revlon, M.A.C and other miracles

The typical result of Saturday mornings at the nail salon

I've been wanting a manicure for a while now. I look at my nails and long for a new cute nail colour since I had to leave the majority of my stocks home. I am now bored with the 4-5 colours, I managed to pelt in the bag, which include my favourite, Supernatural by Orly.

Once upon a time, I used to wake up at 7am on a Saturday after a long, hard week at work, and jet down to the salon, before it opened, so I could be first in line. My nail technician was excellent but did not quite understand the appointment concept. Needless to say, my nails were always looking hot. Before I left home, I still got up early on Saturday mornings - even earlier - but not to shape up my nails but to shape up my ass. The gym was now the new king of the Saturday morning torture.

Touching up my Revlon Plum Seduction look in my office

My fave polishes are too expensive here - or maybe I should be accurate and say, on no salary, it's too expensive. Paying £10-15 for a nail polish, when one needs to eat is not practical. But I still go into a store and torture myself. I love OPI's virtual polish tester which allows you to see how colours would look against your skin tone. I have read that women, and these days men, with darker skin tones should wear darker colours. I tend to disagree. I love nudes, though you have to know which nudes to wear so you don't look hood-rattish. But a perfect example of a fantastic darker shade would be Revlon's Plum Seduction, which I love love love and miss miss miss. With 15 minutes before we left for the airport back in September, I was not tearing up or hugging relatives goodbye. I was on my knees, looking under the bed for my bottle of Plum Seduction. Never found it. Gutted. It costs £7.50 here. Again, the food concept supersedes that £7.50 for nail polish.

Photo: M.A.C.

My other beauty confession. I don't wear lipstick. Ever. I don't even own a lipstick. My mother had bought me a Sacha lipstick many moons ago and I used to wear it regularly but I always got bored with having to fix lipstick during the day. Now I just don't wear it. Not even to parties or formal events. Never. It may be almost scandalous as a woman and a self-proclaimed -nista to say that, but it's true. Not even M.A.C.could make me wear lipstick. I think what always stuck in my mind was getting ready for a wedding at age 11 and someone thinking it would be cute to put lipstick on an 11 yr old, but I was still a baby and my Angelina Jolie lips were not at the sexy, sensuous stage, but just a nuisance. An aunt remarked that my lips were too big for lipstick. That sealed the deal for me. I never really appreciated lipstick much after that, even with my body and age catching up with my gorgeous lips. Furthermore, I love a dramatic eye, and you cannot or should not do a dramatic eye, with dramatic lips. The eyes win.

Bare Escentuals Rose lipgloss and
Cargo's lipgloss duo - Walla Walla

But I am a slave to lip gloss. The ones I use on the regular are Bare Escentuals in Rose, and Cargo's Walla Walla duo. One of the many reasons I go to Sephora - to stock up on my lip gloss. I have found it rather challenging here though because in winter my lips, even with copious amounts of Vaseline lip balm with cocoa butter, were cracked and peeling. What a nightmare.  One thing I kick myself for not putting in my bag was my very useful and almost essential Jamieson's Vitamin E oil. On many a dry skin and lips night, this would have come in so handy. I hope I have not aged so much already from winter and from late nights and assignments that I cannot recreate youth at some point.

I had planned to go to Oxford Street today but just not in the mood. Window shopping loses its allure when in reality you really cannot hope to buy anything. The M.A.C. store is like a behemoth of envy and desire and torment. Best to stay home - be productive. It is after all why I am going through all these diva sacrifices - to get a degree, isn't it?

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No Paparazzi, please

There are the cute blue heels that are my avatar.

I am really tickled to be one of the Editor's Picks on Bloggers.com today. I mean, there is no red carpet, no flash bulbs, no prize money (the worst part...lol), but it's cute. So yaay me.

It's pretty amusing to realise 1). how many people actually read my nonsense, 2). how many people actually enjoy reading my nonsense and 3). how much I enjoy writing my nonsense. It is the one part of my day that is not frustrating, and is completely mine.

So thanks to everybody who ensures it is not a solitary experience.

Sephora, Florence, Italy - I had a time in here

Almost every day I get my email from Sephora, torturing me with the specials and sales, and I ask again, Why isn't there a Sephora in London? I mean, y'all taking this Britishness thing too damn far, man. I cannot get NZ cheese. I cannot get American Cheerios (I don't like the Cheerios here - half sweet, half plain, in one box. Gimme 100% PLAIN Cheerios!!! OMG!). And now I cannot get Sephora? Every trip to Miami, the PT and I must hit up Sephora. New York - Sephora. I made it a point to visit Sephora in both Paris and Florence cause it is just one of my favourite shops ever. London - great capital, home of the queen. Why? Why?

Maybe it is for the best since I can barely afford food, and have to resort to getting excited in Boots. Needless to say, I needed a toner and bought one from Boots - a Boots brand and I selected it after reading the reviews, because let's face it, if I was going to buy a toner for under £2, I wanted to make sure it was not going to set my face on fire or burn off my eyebrows. Really one cannot go wrong with witch hazel and tea tree oil.  I had never had a toner that was a blend of both and never used a cheap toner either, but kudos to Boots for this godsend product. Easy on the skin and easy on the pocket. It is as good as a toner can get. Take the free plug, Boots.

A winning beauty combination, ladies. On a budget!

Of course I also got my Mudd facial mask and it really does give a boost of beauty confidence. How I survived this long with just soap and water, and my L'Oreal scrubby wubby is a miracle. I am now leaving it for "special" occasions, which means I may never use it again. Kidding kidding.

Still, Boots is no Sephora. Let's just keep it real now. I am glad I had the presence of mind to pack at least 6 months' supply, though it might really be 8, of cosmetics for black, tropical skin, or I would be a hot, nashy mess. It was a funny story at lunch on Sunday, about a black girl who was using a brand that shall remain nameless, bought here in London, and thought she was swanky, until she went back home to her black friends, and everyone asked her what on earth she was using to be looking so grey. lol. The darkest products here were clearly not dark enough for her but funny that noone thought it would be nice to tell her this. I guess they thought her face was grey? lol. Thank God for Pennywise - the Trini Boots - and my stocks. Looking grey is not an option. Funny that there are so many black people here and still a dearth in GOOD black beauty supplies (emphasis on "good"). Hmmm.

I'm working on my second assignment. As I said before, blogging is the only time I am not frustrated or vexed. lol

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Friday: Let's Talk Beauty (Vanity)

I've not been sleeping well. I go to bed at oh...3am..latest was 5am, and set the alarm to wake me up 6 hours later, so I can start a new day on this assignment, and 3 hours later, I am wide eyed. Not so bushy tailed. Here I am again - 3.5 hours later. Unable to sleep.

This of course means I look like utter rubbish. I have been "self medicating" with shea butter moisturiser to try to put some zap in my skin, and a lot of cold water splashes to minimise the puffiness under my eyes. This does not bode well for the evening where I am supposed to go out and look cute. Back home this would have meant - strong coffee, and a quick facial. You know, when they put you under the steamer and you fall asleep, and then the gentle massage takes you to dreamland, and then they leave the face mask on and go outside to check on other customers for 20 mins and you doze off with a smile on your face. By the time you leave, after your super nap and the relaxation, not to mention exfoliation and super skin crap that you know is probably not much better than the cheap crap you can get in the beauty aisle, you're positively glowing.

Fast forward to me, in fluffy socks, with puffy eyes, with not even enthusiasm to go to the kitchen, much less go outside. But go outside I must. I have been excited about going to good ole Boots all week. That's pretty sad considering all the things I could be excited about. But I'm a girl. I realise I miss being a girl. I went on their website to look for super skin crap to pre-empt a rubbish look this weekend, and realised all the stuff I had been missing. lol. Revlon. Clinique. L'Oreal. And when I saw this, I was super excited. I wanted to run down to Boots right then and there - at 1am.

I have not seen this in forever. This is not a plug for them cause noone pays me to rate their stuff - though they should. But this mask is awesome. I used to use it waaaaay back in the day, when I still wore a school uniform and when school was fun. Actually my mum used to use it, and I used to sneak into her beauty bag and steal some. Then one day she came home and felt like "masking" and the bottle was empty. She was not amused, but my skin was awesome. So when I saw Boots had it, I got so exciiiited. Maybe it can magically transform me from this

It's true. I am not too far off from looking like this today

...to this in...oh...10 hours?

The lovely Gabrielle Union

That would be a 21st century miracle but, I am optimistic. I continued browsing the website, looking at girly stuff. Fun. My fave nail polish is £8 though. That kinda killed the excitement somehow. It's the same way I felt going into the mecca of Trininista aka the M.A.C. store and knowing that £11.50 single eyeshadow was not as important as food. Sigh. How life has changed.

I always remember a man asking me what my favourite brand was and I said without blinking - "M.A.C.". He goes, "Oh you're an Apple groupie." Stupid. lol. Don't you guys know?

Courtesy M.A.C. - Freshwater

Hope everyone has a beautiful Friday. We all deserve to feel pretty and beautiful today. And if I don't get my mask in my local Boots, I am gonna burn the store down.

Smooches.

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Black is Beautiful, Vybz Kartel. Orange is for sundresses.

I really loathe statistics. I am being forced to do stats over these 2 weeks - all day, every day, for 2 weeks. Whose squirrel did I run over in a past life? I will not even fake it. I hate statistics. I will not pretend to be a good sport about it. I just hate it.

Now that I have gotten that off my chest, I really wanted to say something briefly about Vybz Kartel. For the non-Caribbean readers, Mr Kartel is a popular dancehall artiste from Jamaica who has recently been in the news, not for his music but for his appearance. Why? Well, he used to look like this - nice, unspoilt, sexy chocolate brown skin...

Now he looks like this -

I mean, the dude was not God's gift to women before, but now he is simply heinous. The phenomenon of bleaching in Jamaica, where black people feel some deep desire to apply bleaching products to their skin to lighten their appearance does not seem to be going away. With the transformation of Vybz Kartel from a healthy looking, not too bad looking chocolate coloured man, to this Frankenstein looking creature, I am really saddened that so many black people turn to such silly measures to try to keep up with European standards of beauty.

Vybz, in his interview on a radio station said he was not trying to distance himself from being a black man, but rather - and this really amused me - it's a "style". He said he put in orthodontic braces not because he needed them but because it was a style, and in the same way, he has been turning orange because it is a fashion statement. Vybz - a fashion statement is a pair of hot jeans, a new piece of bling, maybe some new shoes. Bleach is not a fashion statement. It's just being dotish. He went on to comment that he needed to highlight his numerous tattoos which were hard to see on the skin God blessed him with, so he just had to bleach so the world could see his artwork. Amazing.

The horrible thing about this is that he is a public figure in Jamaica and contrary to what he believes, people emulate him and people like him. So when he does this to himself, for whatever reason, he is simply propagating the belief that light skin, or in this case, nasty looking orange skin, is hip, happening and beautiful. I am even more disturbed that this gentleman is going to bring out his own line of "cake soap" - bleaching soap. So what are you telling young people about being black in this world?

It's the same issues I have with women who live by the frickin' weave. I call them the rebound weavers - women who cannot live without a weave; who jump from weave to weave; whose between-weave periods last less than 12 hours; who feel their beauty is somehow not enhanced when they are not wearing fake hair. Nutters. I have no problem with a black woman who wants to wear a weave or braids or what have you, for a new look, or as Vybz says, as a "fashion statement". Hell, I have two awesome wigs that I bust out when I feel the need to vamp it up. I love my wigs. I paid good money for my wigs.

But when noone can remember what you look like without fake hair sewn on to your head, or you get offended when someone else points out your weave to people who may not know, for example, white people, then I have a serious issue with this. What are you afraid of, or are you so consumed (and confused) by this image of beauty - of long, flowing hair around your shoulders, no matter whose head it came from, that you cannot fathom walking the street with your short natural hair. I remember how annoyed a friend - a male friend - was when I did a weave - seriously un-im-pressed.  Some men really find it unattractive, not to mention a form of false advertising. It can also be the butt of jokes, ridicule and disgust when you wear a weave. And though I have never been in one, let's not mention getting into fights with women - the first thing they go for in any scenario is the hair, so imagine wearing a weave in a catfight, and worse being in a catfight with dozens of onlookers. The shame. lol. These are among the many reasons, why I do not "ride or die" with the whole weave thing. Take me as I come, buddy. A dude told me this week, he does not date women who wear glasses. If that is the best he can come up with, then me and my $4000 glasses will be alright.

But I am really concerned that black people are questioning the beauty that they have. I see so many people running to the Caribbean to lie on a beach all day to darken their skin, while people like Vbyz "is a style" Kartel is destroying his beautiful brown skin with cake soap. And then you have the Naomi Campbells and Hollywood's black fashionistas who encourage little girls to want a weave for that straight haired look - the "good hair" look. This is a whole other argument which I know I had discussed on another forum, and this is all getting me rather pissed off, so I will stop.

And while I like to cast my eye on  a nice red man, this ain't it, Vybz. I would really like to know if there is any woman in her right mind who will now watch this orange, crusty looking Vybz Kartel and want to be seen with him. I am also curious - did he bleach everything????? I know the saying is once you go black, you never go back, but what do they say about once you go orange? I am really not willing to find out.

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