Page 16 of Curvy Girl Summer

“What I’m saying is that I don’t want that to be you,” he interrupted me with a fierce sincerity. “You are the only blood niece I got left. You are the only child your parents have left. I just want you to have a real shot at life. I don’t want you to be alone. That’s all I meant. I don’t mean no harm. I just don’t want Macy’s life to be your life. I’m worried about your future. I’m saying this because I love you.”

I shook my head. “Uncle Al, I’m going home. I’m not doing this with you. You don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. I’m good. And you can either choose to believe that or not. Either way, I’m going home.” I sidestepped him. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”

“I know you lied to your mama. You don’t got somebody coming to your birthday party.”

I unlocked my car door. “Have a good night, Uncle Al.”

“I meant what I said about the yacht, Aaliyah,” he restated.

My stomach lurched again.

I paused for only a second before I resumed opening my car door.

“If you don’t have anyone, I can’t give it to you,” he continued. “So I’m going to sell it.”

I shook my head and climbed into the driver’s seat. “Goodbye, Uncle Al.”

“Aight, Aaliyah,” he sighed, sadness tugging at his words. “I love you.”

“Yeah, love you, too,” I said just before slamming the door shut.

I started the engine immediately. I watched my uncle make his way to the backyard before I backed out of the driveway and headed home.

Listening to music on the drive didn’t help. The long, hot shower I took when I got home didn’t help. Eating my cookout leftovers didn’t help. Climbing in bed and watching a movie didn’t help. No matter what I did, I couldn’t shake what my mom and uncle said.

My uncle’s fear was startling. I didn’t subscribe to his line of thinking, but I was alarmed by the seriousness of his plea. It wasn’t a surprise to me that people felt like being a fat woman meant lonely or desperate or willing to settle. Society pushed that narrativeoften. I grew up with a bigger body in the shadow of a slim sister. I went to a PWI for high school, so I didn’t even realize the extent of how fine I was until I got to college. So, although my uncle’s worry and concern blindsided me, that thought process wasn’t new to me. But the fact that he felt like he needed to worry based off my mom’s concerns bothered me.

Because when did my mom start having concerns?

My mother raised me to have unyielding high self-esteem, an abundance of self-confidence, and an independent spirit. I was well aware that I wasn’t the beauty standard growing up. I was too fat, too smart, too Black. But I never doubted my beauty. And because I was happy with who I was on the inside and the outside, my mom assured me that I would find the person I was meant to be with. I just had to have faith and be patient.

And I believed that.

I’d always been a good person with a good sense of humor, so people gravitated toward me. But when I got to Hamilton University, I was quickly and immediately reminded that beauty comes in all shades, shapes, and sizes. It was no longer just my family and friends recognizing my beauty. It was everyone.

It was the boys at school actively hitting on me, asking me out, and complimenting me. It was the men at my internship and part-time job flirting with me. It was the older men wanting to take me out and fly me out. I was overwhelmed with attention, and when I got used to it, I figured out what I wanted and moved accordingly.

I dated.

I dated a lot.

And when I got my heart broken, I took a little break and then started dating again. And everything was cool until it wasn’t.

Between college and my first job after graduation, I met men all the time, and I dated for sport. After things ended with my first love, I dated for security. But it got old quickly. Dating just didn’t have the appeal that it once had. I was very clear on what I wanted, but I kept finding myself out with men who didn’t want the same thing that I did.

Because of how invested my parents became in my love life afterAniyah passed away, I stopped telling them about every little date. They were a little too hopeful when they heard the same name more than once, and they were a little too disappointed when I mentioned a new name. So, I made the decision to just wait until there was someone serious in my life.

It was better for everyone that way.

They hadn’t heard about anyone new since my last boyfriend, because I wasn’t taking any of the other ones seriously. After dating Matthew and figuring out we weren’t compatible, I decided to start the year off by focusing on myself. I didn’t want to date, but I did want to find a partner. And I’d just decided to start looking again after what happened with Matthew a few weeks ago. I would’ve told them that, but it wouldn’t have made a difference. They didn’t want to hear about the potential of a future boyfriend. They wanted to hear about the potential of a first grandchild.

That’s their issue, not mine.

My family’s comments got under my skin more than I wanted to admit. I spent the rest of the weekend in my head, replaying the conversations. I was going to forever be in Aniyah’s shadow. She was always the perfect one, even more so after death. I’d made peace with that a long time ago. I wasn’t where Aniyah was at this age. I hadn’t achieved what she had achieved. I hadn’t hit the benchmarks she had hit. It was clear that she did things the way they preferred; she did things the right way. But even still, they never made me feel like she was better or I was worse. I was never made to feel as though I was less loved or less accepted because of it. It was clear that I was just different from Aniyah. However, between the setup, the constant sibling comparison, and the collective effort to marry me off, it was unsettling, and I didn’t know where it was all coming from.

I was irritated that my uncle didn’t know how to talk to people at his big age. He was out of line, and his Christmas gift was going to reflect it. But it was my mom that really got to me.

I was irked that my mom was trying to hook me up with a man she didn’t even know. I was bothered that she was talking about my love life with the family as if I were a lost cause. I was hurt by thefact that she seemed to have lost the faith and patience she sowed in me when I was younger. But on Sunday night, as I was stretched out in the middle of the bed, I realized why I couldn’t shake the impromptu intervention of my love life.

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