So my ex-homegirl called me Olive Oyl back in March… and by Halloween, I was like, “You know what? I would kill that look.” 😏
But let me tell you how we even got here. Shorty was already blocked, mind you. But y’all know bikelife can’t hold water, so somebody sent me the screenshots anyway. She was posting screenshots, subbing me online, calling me Olive Oyl. And when I saw it, that shit got me tight.
Because when we were friends, I told her in confidence that I was insecure about being so thin. So seeing her take something I trusted her with and use it to try to play me in public? Yeah, that irked me OD.
And the irony of me catching Olive Oyl shade from Bluto’s side of town? Go figure. 😂
But once I sat with it, I felt my auntie’s spirit tap in. My aunt BEEN calling me Olive Oyl. “Bag of bones,” too. You know how your tias will crack on you and have you laughing right along with her? That was us. And when I thought about it, I could hear her saying it again. I could hear the love in it.
So I said, hold up. I am una flakita. I love my slim goodies, respectfully. And I know damn well I’d kill that look.
So I took that shade, transmuted it, and made some fly shit. I got my little Popeye, put on the nameplate, threw on the Teyana Taylor 1s for work, and then finessed another fit wi Timbs… because Olive Oyl was in New York. What you thought? 😏
And Asa, I felt you with me in that fit. I know you would’ve been cracking up seeing your little bag of bones walking around with Popeye on her hip. You knew I was gonna kill it, too. ❤️
