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Chapter 1
I am not young, or thin, or white or beautiful. I'm a slightly thick sista, but I know how to fix myself up.
And I'm on the radio. My name is Daphne Dupree, and I play the blues.
I liked everything about speaking into a mike. I even enjoyed positioning my mouth in front of one. And I loved
the way my voice sounded, so rich and full, when it came out. Maybe I just liked to hear myself talk.
"We opened the set with the incomparable Etta 'Miss Peaches' James doing 'At Last'. That was by special request
from Dianne, a blue-eyed soul sister who knows that when you make a potato salad, you don't leave out the mustard.
"Speaking of food, we're gonna be broadcasting live from Taste of Chicago, in Grant Park next Saturday. I
hope to see some of my listeners. You know I'm gon' sho' 'nuff be tastin', too. 'Cause, honey, there's no such
thang as a black anorexic!" I laughed. "You heard it here first."
I kept right on b.s.in', 'cause I was on a roll. And I was in control. "Y'all remember, last year, my boyfriend
didn't hit me, but he up and quit me? Yeah, he said, 'Dee Dee you too big,' sho' did. The brotha didn't 'preciate
my meat. He wasn't no natchel man. Finally had to tell 'im, I was built for comfort, not for speed!"
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