My dear departed friend, Eyvonne, used to tell the story of being in the grocery store one morning when a man walked up to her and said "Girl, you remind me of fried chicken and watermelon." Being the diplomatic woman that she was, she merely smiled and walked away. From that moment on, when the two of us discussed being big Black women, we referred to ourselves and others as Fried Chicken, Watermelon Women.
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