Confident

Built for this

I woke up with that kinda irritation simmering under my skin, the type that made me wanna isolate myself from the world. But the day wasn’t about to wait for my mood to catch up! I had s**t to do.

Dragging myself out of the bed, I headed straight to the bathroom. A hot shower and my skincare routine were my non-negotiables- a little ritual to clean my head and get me right. The steak loosened the knots in my shoulder as I lathered up, letting the hot water remind me that I was built for whatever nonsense the day threw my way.

Back in my room, I slid on some panties, oiled my skin until it gleamed, and decided to skip the bra. No need. I threw on a black bleached graphic tee, black biker shorts, and my black prestos. Comfort was key, especially with the errands I had lined up.

First things first- I straightened up my room, made up my bed, and grabbed a pair of Nike slides to toss in my car. I knew myself too well- these shoes were cute for now, but the heat would have me switching out midday.

The living room was a quick pit stop; I fixed the couch cushions, picked up yesterday’s water bottle, and grabbed my keys. Locking up behind me, I unlocked Betty, my big-body truck. We were hitting the streets.

My first destination was MLK, the little southern spot with the best fish and grits, salmon croquettes, and all the comfort food that made you feel like someone’s grandma was back there cooking. The catch? They closed early- by 1 PM they were done, so you had to get there quick or miss out.

I pulled up and ordered two plates- one for me, one for my daddy. The food came out fresh, hot enough to fog up my windows, and I strapped the bag into the passenger seat like it was a person.

As I drive to my daddy’s house, my mind wandered.

He raised me, no questions. My momma wasn’t a crackhead or an alcoholic- she was just unstable. Batshit crazy, honestly. She did wild s**t just to get a reaction out of him, like she was daring him to hit her. But my daddy? He never took the bait.

Me? Would’ve snapped she’d have court these hands like a Walmart brawl on Black Friday.

He ended up taking her to court and getting full custody. She stopped coming around when I was ten, and I wasn’t mad at it. Every bust was her picking at me- my hair, my body, my clothes- like she was grading me and I was failing.

I packed in my spot at my daddy’s place- the one he painted with “Amina the First” so big you could see it from the street. Hopping out, I grabbed the food and made my way up the porch, letting myself in.

“DADDDDDDDYYYYYYY!” I called out, knowing damn well he hated when people yelled in his house. Or popped up unannounced. And I just hit him with both.

“Yell in my house again, and imma slide your lollipop body ass” he barked, coming down the stairs in his gray tee, gym shorts, and Nike socks.

My daddy stayed sharp- dark skin smooth as a fresh fade, eyes sharp, and the presence that made grown men pause.

“See, now you going too much. You want the food or not?” I held up the bag, eyebrows raised.

“Food? Did you cook? ‘Cause if you cooked, I already ate. Gotta eat before my pills.” He lied, scratching his neck and looking away.

“Boy, bye. I got it from MLK, but since you already ate, I guess I’ll take it to Momma Jacobson.”

I turned to leave, and that’s when he broke.

“Mina, I was just playing, baby! Princess!!” He called out, laughing.

But I was already halfway out the door determined to make him sweat.