✌😘⚡️💖💥
I get asked if I’m a Cowboys fan pretty often…
When you’re a Texas OG who lives far, far away from the Great State, it’s one of the questions people seem to be most curious about.
I always say no. And that I don’t know many Texans who are actually Cowboys fans.
Because, in truth, most Texans I know rep the college ball fandoms with just as much hoorah as those who prefer the big boy pro battles.
I’ve seen more dirt slignin’ memes thrown towards Dallas by members of my own family than anyone else in the history of which I kinda paid attention to football stuff.
A PICTURE SAYS A THOUSAND WORDS
Yeah… this meme-able treasure is photographic gold ferrr sure! But, as the old trope suggests, there is a depth there that I can clearly see and certainly remember in those “crazy eyes” and forced smile.
As I posed for this GORGEOUS PHOTO OF ME taken when I was 14 years old, I was deeply attuned with my intuitive voice and notorious for expressing it with a fierceness. If something felt uncomfortable or invasive, I said so. That day, however, wearing that jacket and that hair… I found myself remaining quiet in my uncomfortability.
And it shows.
My self-worth at the time was being shaped and programed hard-core. Hello high school, hello family drama, hello being a teenager, right?!
What I thought of myself and how I should present was so largely influenced by things outside of me, that I felt ugly and unworthy when I perceived that I didn’t match up to my society’s standards. The entire photo shoot experience felt diminishing for so many reasons, and it would take me almost 30 years to heal through some of those deeply seeded self-image beliefs.
I wasn’t a fan of the 80’s hair and giant football jacket they put me in for that fakey glamour shot. By that time in my life, I’d already found a distaste for the Lonestar team and what I perceived they represented… their cheerleaders, in particular, were perceived as sexy icons in the 90s by the same people who “just went to Hooter’s for the wings.” And it felt gross to be pitted up against that as a 14 year old girl who just wanted to feel and be perceived as worthy and pretty in her own body.
But it was a “get what you get” sort of situation and destined for disappointment from the start. On top of the stupid puffy jacket and layers of hairspray, I felt awkward and grossed out by the makeup artist, who smelled like liquor and breathed his cigarette breath all over me.
He had similar vibes to and reminded me of the only Green Bay fan I knew back then – a man who gave off all the same smells plus ALL the intrusive and inappropriate ick, and because of that I told myself that I did NOT like that Cheesy team. If he liked it, I didn’t.
And so, I felt that I experienced a disheartening loss that day as I posed through that epic internal battle wearing a football jacket that I didn’t even like.
What’s ironic, is that later in life I have considered myself a low key Packers fan, thanks to a great LOVE who once shared his football fandoms with me. Being super honest, though, I was truly more of a #12 turned Jets’ engine fan, which falls more in line with my teenaged interests in men’s sports… the players. This is why my favorites to watch are actually THE RAVENS. Those guys can dance all day!
So what’s the point, Brooke?
I share this very meme-able photo now, in the wake of GB’s winter ’24 stomp on Dallas, for a few reasons..
#1 – It’s too good not to. I laughed hard when I stared into the eyes of that fierce 14 year old me. And the captions practically write themselves.
“How Cowboys fans be lookin’ when ____!”
Fill in the blanks for dayssss and yearssss. The football zombie land donut hateraid spiral is a biggin’.
Yerrrr Welcome!
#2 – Timely as this post is, the photo is timeless. It captured a slice of life that wove its energetic tendrils into the fabric of my human experience… one that had its hand in shaping my shadow and my self image. And these things, even as they are healed, have a way of standing out in memoric time. I see Truth in this photo, and I send GRACE to the young me that felt all the things in quiet defiance.
THE EYES SPEAK VOLUMES
I’ve always had a Lion’s Roar. The Sun, Moon, and Rising of my placement in this world made sure that my voice would always be heard… and while I did raze the roof when that original stanky cheesehead attempted to cross the lines of Sacred Temple Space, I didn’t say a word when that makeup artist breathed his opinions of beauty over me.
Yeah, I was quiet in the past for a number of reasons, but I don’t stay quiet now. And I want to give voice to her, that Texas bebe girl. I want her to know she is worthy and beautiful and a magical effing QUEEN. That her intuition is what’s up. And her Healing is HERE!
Because I AM HER.
#3 – She’s got those “crazy eyes,” that Medusa stare. No, she’s not a Cowboys fan, but she is a fan of Truth. And the Truth is that my Soul sees what she sees, feels what she feels, and said what she said. No matter what, the Truth is always reflected in the eyes. A clear mirror speaks volumes, even when she’s silent. And especially when she seethes. I trust Her.
#4 – It’s got that Kali Ma picking her battles kind of flavor. It’s got that “the f^ck you just say to me?” bang. The one that challenges with a “f^ck around and find out” Lightmare stare.
And it’s got the pause… the benefit of the doubt before the Mother of Dragons let’s loose…
Because in zombie land, football city is just another groove in the makeup matrix where the programing runs deep and the Woo-thang is scarce.
Except in the case Of A-A-Ron, who is the wokest hippie football GOAT. Yeah buddy! Go Jets? ✌
This is Brooke Nicole OG, signing off on probably the only ever “sports report” I’ll ever release. Peace!
HEARTS ON FULL 💚 ONLY LOVE MAY ENTER
#EffingWords
and I AM THE BABBLING BROOKE 
I am here.
