I Got This Read online

  Walter and I met in the sixth grade and have been best friends ever since. Even though Walter is slightly older than me, he is still the same height as he was on the day we met—meaning short. I was unusually tall for my age back then. We were quite a pair. We still are.

  I will never forget when Walter and I truly connected. There was a new music teacher at our school who wanted to hear each kid sing. I guess she wanted to know what she had to work with. All of the kids in the class pointed toward me, saying, “Jennifer should sing first!” I really had no choice but to do my thing when the teacher asked me to get up to sing.

  Up to this point, Walter had never heard my voice. But when I finished, I could tell that he had fallen in love with what he heard. He became my number one fan that day and we’ve been inseparable ever since. He decided that he would make it his business to make me a star, and I am being honest when I say that I wouldn’t be where I am today without his help and support.

  Although I had a desire to perform in those early years, I was sometimes shy. It was Walter who eventually helped me to come out of my shell. He encouraged me to sing wherever and as often as I could. When we graduated eighth grade, I was asked to sing a solo during the ceremony. I did my own rendition of “Wind Beneath My Wings,” and cried through the entire song. Walter and my mama were mad at me for blowing that big moment. In fact, Walter got so upset that he decided he was done with trying to promote my career right then and there. This would mark the first of many times to come that Walter would fire himself out of my life.

  After that, Walter and I ended up attending different high schools, but we still saw each other almost every day. We’d go shopping after school, work on music, talk about whom we had crushes on, and just hang out like typical kids our age. We even went to my high school prom together. Walter was my date—he had a car and could drive to the dance. My boyfriend at the time didn’t have a car, so he was out and Walter was in. I wore a long cream-colored gown. Every year I have a favorite color, and that year I was in love with anything cream or brown. (This year I’m all about purple, by the way.)

  During high school, I took my first job. At the time, my sister was the queen of our local Burger King. Although she wasn’t the manager, it was as if she worked that whole place by herself. My sister suggested I come to work with her as a way to make some extra money to support my retail habit—it took money to develop my “free style.” I gave it my best shot, but I wasn’t cut out for it. The grill was too hot for me! Plus, the manager was not very nice and talked to everyone with disrespect. She may have intimidated the other employees, but not me (or my sister, for that matter). Shortly after I started, I looked at the manager square in the eyes and said, “Honey, I am only sixteen years old. I don’t need this job! I quit!” My sister gave me a hard time about giving up so quickly, but I knew it was the moment to get serious about what I really wanted to do.

  Walter was happy that I quit—and started to work even harder to help me launch my career.

  Somewhere around the end of my freshman year of high school, Walter phoned me up and said that he wanted to be my official manager. My first response was a gut-busting laugh, and one of my classic “Whatever”s. But then I said, “All right. You wanna be my manager? Fine!” I figured he would last about a hot minute. Much to my surprise, Walter took his new position very seriously. He started booking shows for me almost right away and escorted me to all of my events. Neither of us could afford to buy the fancy dresses I needed to wear for my gigs. He used his credit card to buy them, and I would wear them once. Walter would then return the outfits for a full refund. Oh, some of those outfits were something else. Walter did the shopping, and because of my curves we were limited in where we could shop. One outfit that I may never forgive Walter for was an orange suit consisting of a jacket and capri pants. I believe there was some gold trim involved. It was definitely more of something a grandmother would wear. A very stylish grandma, but a grandma nonetheless.

  Walter even had business cards printed up that read, “Weddings, funerals, and church functions.” It also listed my rate of $25 per song in the upper-left corner. Walter’s name and number were on the bottom right as my booking contact.

  I’d do my events, get paid, and promptly give Walter his 10 percent. Then we’d return whatever dress we had chosen for the event. We were making money! For a couple of kids, we thought we had a pretty good idea of how show business worked. Boy, we had a lot to learn.

  Although I did lots of private parties, my real moneymakers were competing in talent competitions. There were many talent shows around Chicago that I could enter. I sometimes wish I could go back and watch myself onstage. I was pretty confident by this point. Both Walter and I knew that if I entered, I’d win them all. We’d look at the prize money and base our decision on which shows to do on how much money we could make.

  I will admit, however, that winning wasn’t always easy. You see, talent shows are a lot like beauty pageants. I felt like I was under a microscope sometimes, and the atmosphere could be intense and really competitive. There was so much backstabbing, politics and dirty tricks going on behind the scenes of those things that I learned to anticipate the worst every time we went to a show. I once sang in a competition where another contestant hid my music so I wouldn’t be able to perform. This type of sabotage went on all the time. I learned to brush it off and remembered to carry a spare tape.

  When I was seventeen, I entered a gospel singing contest at the mall in Evergreen, Chicago. This was like a local gospel version of American Idol. It was one of the biggest competitions in the area. The organizers of the contest had made hair and makeup people available, but Walter had arranged for my own personal glam squad to be with me that day, including a wardrobe stylist, a hairstylist, and a makeup artist. Walter thought it would be better if I showed up with my own team. It wasn’t that we were pulling a diva act. He wanted me to have my own glam squad so I would look the part of a star. My dress that day had been made especially for me by one of Walter’s friends. It was a dramatic, black velvet gown, complete with a train and long-fitted sleeves lined with silver fabric.

  In an ironic twist of fate, one of the makeup artists provided by the contest organizers is now one of my personal makeup artists.

  “I remember you back when you thought you were too good and had your own stylist and hairdresser.” She still teases me to this day every chance she gets!

  Round one was held at the Evergreen Plaza Shopping Center, and I won. I also won the second round. Like I said, I usually won whatever talent show I entered, and this time I was hoping for the same result.

  Round three was held at Salem Baptist Church led by the Reverend James T. Meeks, in Chicago. The church was massive and was by far the largest venue I had ever played. In addition to coming down with a terrible cold, for whatever reason, I switched my song for this round. In the end I don’t think I sang the right song to win that contest. I ended up placing third. No matter how big the glam squad, or how dramatic the dress, sometimes things just don’t work out.

  Walter was always incredibly passionate about ways to move my career in a forward motion. He had the highest expectations for me and would stop at nothing to help me get to the top. One thing I know he wasn’t expecting was that I would ever go back to work at Burger King, something I could do only because it was, as they say, “under new management.”

  This time, I worked the drive-through window. You didn’t hear, “Welcome to Burger King, may I take your order” when you drove up to my window. Oh, no. You heard my big ol’ mouth singing whatever came to mind. That window had a microphone and I couldn’t resist. I have never met a microphone I didn’t like—even if it was at a Burger King. I especially loved singing songs from commercials like “…Always, Coca-Cola…” and even jingles from competitors like McDonald’s. That drive-through was my stage and I made sure to entertain our customers as they came by to pick up their Whoppers and fries.

  It turned out the new m
anager of that Burger King was a club promoter on the weekends at a local nightclub called Mr. G’s Supperclub & Entertainment Center. Mr. G’s was a big deal in Chicago back then. My Burger King manager asked me if I wanted to come down to the club and sing a set or two. He said he could only pay me a hundred and fifty dollars.

  Say what?

  That was a lot more money than I was making working the drive-through or singing at weddings.

  I was all over his offer like white on rice.

  At the time, I loved listening to Whitney Houston and Destiny’s Child, so I figured I could sing a few of their songs and just do my thing. Much to my surprise, the club turned into a regular gig. And just like that, I was done working at Burger King, much to Walter’s satisfaction. I made up my mind then and there to make a living by carving out my career using my talents and doing the one thing I love. Working at Burger King was the first and last nine-to-five job I’ve ever had. I was nineteen years old and have never looked back.

  I took general courses while attending college, and naturally, music was one of them. My teacher there was a gentleman named Rufus Hill. On the first day of class, he made each of the students get up and sing for him. I felt like it was grade school all over again! When it was my turn, I sang “His Eye Is on the Sparrow,” which was a traditional gospel song I knew I could handle. By the time I finished singing, Mr. Hill was practically on the phone to his friend, a well-known theater coach. He called to have her come hear me sing.

  The following week, she came to our classroom so I could sing for her. At the time, I had no idea why, but if someone asked me to perform, I was always happy to oblige. Turns out that she was looking for people to audition for the musical Big River. It was being staged at Marriott Theatre in Lincolnshire, about an hour and a half outside of Chicago. I was going to try out.

  Mr. Hill and his friend spent the next several weeks helping me prepare for my audition. They worked with me and helped me learn the music and lines. I practiced “How Blest We Are,” the most important song from Big River, until I knew it cold. I got the part and finally had my first real professional singing job.

  From that point forward, Walter and I knew we’d ultimately take this journey together. I have always called Walter my life partner because we have been through everything together from the start. He knows me better than I know myself, and he’s always believed in me. I personally think every girl ought to have herself at least one gay man in her life because he will always tell you if your shoes are so last season, your outfit is not working for you, your hair is a total wreck, or to get rid of that man you are dating if he isn’t treating you right! I always tell people that if they don’t like Walter, there isn’t something wrong with him—there’s something wrong with them!

  CHAPTER TWO

  INVISIBLE

  By the time I was in my teens I was aware that I had become a plus-size girl. C’mon, I wasn’t blind. I may never have called myself “fat” but I still knew that I couldn’t shop where other girls shopped. I just felt confident that I could work with the body God gave me. I wasn’t insecure—I had all the great curves that a lot of women have to pay for!

  When I was fourteen years old, I was in a group called Final Notice. The other two girls were a little older than me and comparatively speaking, they were petite. I was younger and, well, not as delicate. I wasn’t overweight, and because of my five-foot-nine frame, I was able to carry a few extra pounds—and carry them well. Even though I didn’t fit the look they were going for, they kept me around because I had the most talent. Image was always the bigger issue with the girls in that group. The other girls didn’t want what I wanted—which was to sing. They wanted to wear skimpy little outfits so they would look hot. I wanted to choose costumes we could all wear to entertain.

  The girls from Final Notice and I would go to pick our outfits together, and this was often a frustrating experience. We’d go shopping and I’d try on matching jeans that were supposed to be in my size. While they always fit the other girls perfectly, mine were never quite right. Since I am so tall, I’d usually end up with jeans that were tight in the waist and far too short. If I went up a size, they were baggy all over and made me look even bigger than I was.

  Many studies claim that approximately 60 percent of the population is considered overweight. If half of the population is women, then roughly ninety-three million are female shoppers in the double-digit size range. That is a lot of women. Those women are the average, not the exception. I’ve been one of those women, and I’ve had many times in my life when I felt like I was not going to find the right things to wear. That’s why I got the idea of opening up a clothing store of my own and calling it Average Sizes, because the average woman in America wears a size 14. If the average American woman is a size 14, wouldn’t it stand to reason that a size 14 would be the most common size sold? It’s not. It seems like sizes 12 and 14 are in fashion hell because manufacturers can’t figure out how to make clothes that really appeal to women who are that size. I always hated that most stores carried clothes in small, medium, and large or sizes 0 to 14. If you didn’t fit into those sizes there was a separation that suddenly made you “plus” size and forced you into shopping at places like Fashion Bug and Lane Bryant. I had nothing against these stores. In fact, I was grateful for their existence. I just didn’t want to feel different for having to shop there. There was a store near us called 5-7-9, and my sister, Julia, and I used to joke that if you combined those sizes, that was a size that would fit us!

  There are more options now than there used to be, but there is still some stigma attached to shopping in the plus department or at plus-size stores. And don’t get me started on some of the things that designers think plus-size women want to wear. It seems as if they think that the bigger you are, the more sparkles or prints you want on your body. I’m sorry, but why would that be true? Why can’t plus-size women just have a nice pair of jeans that fit well, and a great black top that hugs in all the right ways? (This is my note to designers out there—do right by the average woman!)

  Why is it so hard for an average-size woman to find clothes that fit? According to Women’s Wear Daily women who used to be a size 8 or 10 and have gained weight often don’t want to shop for a size 14 or 16. They end up making do with the clothes they have. Interestingly, women sizes 20 and up, many of whom have likely been plus size their entire lives, seem to be more likely to have accepted themselves physically, and shop as frequently as single-digit-size women.

  Julia once came to a Final Notice show and overheard people talking in the audience, saying, “She can sing but her clothes are too small!” Now, Julia has always been a big girl herself, so she didn’t understand why these girls in the audience were commenting on the size of my outfits. I was only wearing what the group put me in. The bigger dilemma for me was that I had to conform to their image or I’d be out of the group. We were definitely at a crossroads. Even though I couldn’t fit into the clothes they wore most of the time, I was still expected to do all the work in pants that were too tight, too short, and, truthfully, really uncomfortable. The other girls had the look but couldn’t sing. This didn’t make a lot of sense to me. I moved on.

  The next group I was in was called Fate’s Cousins, a group I was in with two of my cousins. We picked the name as our way of paying homage to our favorite group at the time, Destiny’s Child. Ironically, I was the smallest girl in that group. We didn’t last very long, but after my experiences with Final Notice, I made sure Fate’s Cousins were about one thing and one thing only. Singing.

  There were plenty of times I auditioned for other groups and didn’t get the job because I didn’t fit the image. I didn’t see this at the time. Then I was just confused, and hurt. I honestly thought that my talent was the thing that should, or should not secure jobs for me. I didn’t fully grasp how important image was in show business. One such experience really sticks out in my memory—when I auditioned to be a backup singer for Barry Manilow. I was nine
teen years old and probably at my peak weight of around 236 pounds.

  I had never been on an audition where I would have to sing and dance. I’ll dance if I have to and sometimes when I perform, but I don’t necessarily think of myself as a dancer. Still, I’m a professional, and I’ll do what is required when it is called for.

  The audition went amazingly.

  I performed a gospel song called “Silver and Gold.” All of the casting people there, including Barry Manilow himself, absolutely loved what they heard. They were crazy excited when I finished. Where I come from, people will throw things at you when they think you did a great job. And when I finished singing that day, everyone in the room was throwing things my way. They picked up whatever they had nearby and tossed it at me so I would know they thought it was great. People in the hallway still waiting to audition were saying they didn’t want to follow me. “What’s the point?” I heard one girl say.

  Oh yeah. I killed it.

  I waited in the hallway for someone to come tell me a start date.

  “I’m so sorry, Jennifer. We don’t have anything for you.”

  You read that right.

  That’s exactly what they said.

  “Are you kidding me?” I asked.

  You could have knocked me over with a feather. Turns out, I didn’t have the look so I didn’t get the part. I was extremely disappointed. I was dismayed. I thought I had nailed it and the job was mine. It took me years to realize that I didn’t get the job because of my size. At the time, I was just upset that I wasn’t going to get a chance to share my talents with a larger audience.

  The thing I got from these experiences was that not everyone has the same values and focus. My focus has always been on talent over looks. This theme of people putting an emphasis on looks first has been a constant reminder throughout my life that most people don’t see things in the same way that I do. Looking back, I realize that it has always been my appearance that I have been judged on first. It made a difference whether I was fat or skinny. This is something I never totally accepted but was learning that I had to deal with.