Posts in Random

How Do I Look?

Beauty Life Random 18 Comments

“I’m not fat, I’m thick;” “I don’t have a big stomach, it’s just chubby;” “I’m not thin, I only slimmed down;” are some of the statements I’ve made, in defense of how I look, just because I love to argue, not cos I really meant any.

While I may have made those statements playfully, there are people who actually get offended when called fat or thin. And I honestly can’t blame them; “fat” and “thin” when used, are usually condescending or meant to be shameful. Hence, most people no longer see them as just adjectives but insults. And now, poor people like me find it hard to describe a person as fat, or short, or thin, or even black, without it coming off as body shaming. But then, it is what it is. Cos how else do I give a clear picture of a person?

Now, there’s this trend of people getting offended when others make comments on how they look. Comments like “Sade, you’re looking good. See your cheeks, you’ve added weight o,” “Guy, are you dieting? You are lean, see your neck,” and a thousand other similar comments. I said it’s a trend now cos everywhere on social media, I see people warning friends, families, acquaintances and enemies, in advance, to mind their business and not make any comment on their ‘newly acquired look,’ when next they see. I don’t know if it’s them just being ‘woke,’ or catching cruise, or being really offended, cos such comments get to them.

Well, there are different strokes for different folks. I personally have no problem with people telling me I’ve lost or added weight, gotten shorter or taller, gotten lighter or darker. Really. This is because sometimes, my eyes and judgement aren’t enough. Some of these observations serve as eye openers for me. Well, depending on how you say it sha. Some will embarrass you, all in the name of being concerned…

I’m the kind who wouldn’t notice I’ve lost weight until I become a bag of dried bones, or add about two extra holes to my belt, or until my clavicles are deep enough to hold a litre of water.

Also, I do not want to look like a sack of fufu, before I realize I’ve become fat, and now start to drink garlic and ginger, boiled in Pigeon saliva, just to burn stubborn fat. So you see why I appreciate such observations and comments from people?

Most importantly, I appreciate it when people observe that my water bumbum is evaporating, before it totally disappears (only when it truly is. I hate false observations concerning my past), cos how else would I remain a destiny changer without my juicy past?

So yes, keep them comments coming. Go ahead and tell me how I look, my mirror may not be doing its work well enough. Just make sure you process carefully, whatever you think your eyes have seen, before opening your mouth gbagada to say what is not; I’m sure you don’t want to attlact curses to yourself. So shine your eyes well, before you tell me my bumbum has reduced or that I’m lean, when you’ve only seen my upper body. Wait to see my “lower body” fess, before you conclude than I’m now lean. My wells of salvation have come to stay; so without seeing my “lower body,” you’d be tricked to believe I’m lean. So my dears, let’s be careful, and not cause unnecessary commotion.

Tell me, what are your thoughts on unsolicited observations? Do they offend you or you’re open to them?

Are you one to give unsolicited observations?

Tale of a Bully-Proof Child

Life Random 19 Comments

I attended a total of four primary schools, but I have most of my best memories in this particular one. It was an elite school in Lagos, one of the best in the area at that time. It was a school for the ajebutters, the celebrity kids, and a couple of kids from average homes. I was just a kid whose mom was a non-academic staff, but most people couldn’t tell cos of my confidence, appearance and performance in academics. It was easy to assume I was one of the really rich kids.

There was this boy in my class, Chinonso(not his real name), he had an unusual surname and was no doubt one of the richest kids in school. He had siblings, both in the primary and the secondary school. I think there were about five of them at that time. In the early 2000s, five hundred naira was a big deal, and this little boy, with his siblings, brought that amount everyday to school, with lunch, and they were dropped off and picked up from school everyday by their driver, with different cars.

The school had a break centre (I’m sure this isn’t what it was called,but my memory has failed me here) where all sorts of snacks were displayed for sale. Chinonso would go along with his gang and buy snacks for everyone. How old were we again? Probably seven or eight. You’re shocked that a child as young as that was exposed to that amount of money, right? But it is what is. The lunch box he brought to school was useless, I don’t remember ever seeing him eat his homemade lunch.

I forgot to mention, I was still a newbie, sort of. I joined in pry 2, first term, two or three weeks to their exams, and I came third in the class, despite being ill during exams. That’s how I became a star girl, and my headmaster and headmistress wanted to meet my parents. Imagine their shock when they discovered my mom was my mom. That’s by the way.

We were in the second term of pry 2 now, and Chinonso liked me. I know this cos he sent messages on several occasions through some of his “boys,” as the prince that he was. There were also times he’d playfully say he liked me and would immediately run off with his gang while laughing. He was cute, though not as cute as the other boy who liked me, the one who wouldn’t let me come first with him in the same arm; we had two arms in a class, A and B. He’s story for another day, let’s focus on Chinonso. I would have liked Chi boy back, but I just thought he wasn’t sharp and was a spoilt brat. I wondered why he wasn’t as smart as two of his elder sisters. In fact, I found it embarrassing that someone who never got answers right in class was liking me. I think I tolerated him just cos of his sister who happened to be one of my numerous school parents( I hear I was too cute to resist). He tried to get me gifts several times during break, but I kept rejecting them. I was the typical contented child; one who wouldn’t even accept water from anyone who isn’t my mom.

So you see, I was contented with my bottle of sweetened milk and whatever it was I took to school for lunch. I took a bottle of milk to school everday. On one of those days when I was happily drinking my milk, after refusing Chinonso’s gifts of course, one of my classmates decided to be unfortunate. In a bid to shame me, she asked in a mocking tone, “Why does your mom always give you milk to school everyday? Are you a baby?” and I replied, “It’s because milk is rich and good for growth, and yes, I’m my mummy’s big baby. You see my cheeks? You see how I look like a pumped balloon? It’s a sign of good living. But look at you, looking dry and starved. I think you should start drinking milk too.” The bully and the rest of my classmates sure didn’t see that coming. There was no way the quiet new girl could have said that. Oh well, she said that.

I remember this one time, before the milk incidence, when school just resumed; my first week of the second term. I had just started making my hair back, so my hair was really short. I had it in small puffs, decorated with colourful bands. I was fortunate to have really nice clothes and shoes, thanks to my mama, and to my abroad relatives who kept sending trending outfits. Since I was still new, I was allowed to wear mufti in my first week. I don’t remember why I still didn’t have a uniform, despite joining earlier. On this fateful day, I wore a pretty vintage dress, with a high round neck, puff arms and gathers around the knee. It was a combination of purple velvet, what we called apoche, and some shiny flowery material that looked like chocolate wrapper. I had one of those ivory neckpieces, that looked like it came from Zululand, a pair of white socks, black shoes and a beaded bracelet on. At that age, I already had the liberty to pick my outfits, and I did make good choices.

I was on the playground, feeling beautiful and confident in my dress, when some children from nowhere had the guts to tell me I looked like a village girl, just because I wore an apoche dress! To the ignorant kids, apoche was a traditional attire, and was therefore, bush. Trust me to school them na, I told them “I like apoche,” this wasn’t a lie,”but this apoche is international, it is not the kind you see everywhere. It was sent to me from the United States of America. Do you own one?” and with that, I bounced off with pride. I didn’t wait to register their expression, for all I cared, I had won the battle. I was such a smartmouth.

Despite the pry 2 display, there were still some goats who hadn’t gotten it into their little heads that I was a lioness, a war, and a fight, that I was not a preacher of love. I was now in pry 4, I already had a lot of fans, and was the most respected girl in the class. I rolled with the boys too, I didn’t have time for girls and “their childish play.” I was more into jumping on desks and chairs, drawing comic characters, and playing daring games.

Remember these kids were rich kids, some spent their vacations in the abroad. So apparently, most of their parents had nice cars and one of them was tryna shame me, my mother’s daughter! The boy made a rude statement about my mom not having a car. At that moment, some wires in my head touched, and there were sparks and fireworks in my head. This was one of the kids from an average home o. I looked at him with disdain and asked, “How much does your father have? How many houses has he built? Who even knows if you’re living in a rented house. How many cars does he have? My father was a millionaire before he died. He had properties when he was your father’s age (like I knew the boy’s father’s age). He owned a paint factory with many company cars and personal cars. He even bought cars for his friends, and sponsored trips abroad. Imagine he was alive now, he’d have been a billionaire, and I won’t even be here talking to you. Before you were born, my mother was already driving, she had her car. So because you see my mother working here now, with no car, you think you can talk about her anyhow. I don’t blame you. Na condition make crayfish bend (a saying that never left my mother’s mouth). Let me tell you, that your parents own a car doesn’t make you better than me o. You don’t talk to me and my mother anyhow. You hear me?” And that was how I shut the boy up. With the confidence with which I spoke, you’d think I witnessed these things. I only repeated stories I heard from different people, including my mother, with a little spice, I guess.

I really was just the wrong child to mess with. I wasn’t a follow follow type, I was the pack leader type. Thanks to my mom’s grooming. She got me the latest stationeries, books; children literature books, books on common mistakes in English language, and clothes; from Cinderella dresses, to the trending wristwatches, sunshades, shoes, and a lot more, while she was plainly dressed. I remember how other members of staff would tease her, saying she looked nothing like my mom, but my maid. Truth be told, I was always dressed so well, you’d think my parents were one of those who sponsored events in the school. I still remember my propietress’ reaction on prize giving day, when she realized I was just a child of an employee; priceless.

My mom made me know my worth through her actions and her words, and I will never forgot that. It helped boost my confidence and helped me adapt well among the “rich kids,” I never had a complex and never felt out of place. I participated in every school event, and attended every end of the year party; my mother paid for every one of them, in full. In case you’re wondering how she managed to pay my school fees which was a whole lot at that time, she got a discount like every other staff, plus she served and still serves a living God.

My confidence made me bully-proof and kept the bullies away. Even peer pressure had nothing on me, simply because I knew my worth.

Did you ever get bullied in school? How were you able to deal with bullies? Did their actions affect your confidence or were you bully-proof like me? Please, rub minds with me and drop your comments in the comment section. I want to hear your story, you’ve heard mine.

WITHOUT GIFTED HANDS

Beauty Life Random 17 Comments

I’m very angry. I’m going through my gallery, and I’m pissed. You know why? Cos I’m tired of seeing the same look. No spice. Nothing new, just same plain fine face. I’m bored already. Y’all that repeat styles consistently, I don’t know how you do it; I admire you.

Now, I’m not angry at my fine face, don’t get me wrong. I’m just angry at my friends, and myself. How can I not have even one friend that is very good with makeup? I mean, just how? It hurts to know I have very useless friends. I said what I said. Come and beat me, or better still, block me or delete my contact. Y’all who have no atom of skill in you, but have friends with gifted hands, whom you can always run to for help, have no idea how much God has done for you.

On some days, I have a picture of what I want to look like for church or an event. But it never becomes real. It dies in my head, just because I can’t do make up, and I don’t know how to style my hair. Very sad. I can spend about an hour, working on my face with my tools; powder, mascara, lipstick and eyeliner. The end result of a very long one hour? An almost plain face with very little difference from my natural face, and I ask myself, what’s the point? Waking up an hour earlier, spending between thirty minutes to an hour, only to still look plain? Nah. Thanks. I’ll just carry my face like that. Oh no, I’m not ready to pay money on makeup, not yet. Maybe someday, when I blow, or when I have a really big event.

It’s important to let you know that I do not like the idea of friends always wanting free stuff from their skilled friends. Let’s try to be reasonable, these skilled friends paid to acquire their skill(s) and spent money on acquiring their work tools and would also invest time in doing a job. Don’t you think always asking for freebies is witchcraft? At least, make an attempt to pay, let them decide if they’d work for free or give you a discount. Even family members should pay! But what are we friends for if you can’t do free makeup for me, ehn? Yes, with your tools. The result you’d get from my makeover should be rewarding enough for you. There are some things money can’t buy, you know.

Sighs. I’m angry at myself too. I don’t know how I ended up this useless. No skill at all. Not hair, not skin, not face. Just USELESS! I need new friends, and a new self, please. Audition starts now. Every skilled person is eligible, irrespective of gender.

PS: Note that in this rant, my use of “skill,” refers to just hair and makeup; strictly beauty related skills.

SUCCESS-STRUCK GIRL

Life Random

My head aches terribly right now. I don’t know if it’s this load I attached to my hair in the middle (I have to give Yemi Alade accolades for rocking those big ponies effortlessly. As for me, I’m taking mine out today today. I know it’s barely 24 hours since I installed it, but you know what? I can’t comman goan kee myself) or the sadness I feel right now is what is responsible. No, I didn’t lose anyone and nobody broke my heart. Well, maybe my heart is slightly broken right now cos today was my last day at work, where I interned. I’ve been drinking water since cos according to a certain woman, water solveth all problems. If you’re broke, drink water. If you’re depressed, drink water. If you’re sad like me, drink water. If you don’t know how to mind your business, drink water. So, I have taken the water o, and I’m patiently waiting for the sadness to go away.

Like I said earlier, today was my last day at work and I got the privilege to have a short conversation with the MD/CEO of the firm. I dirin experrit (I didn’t expect it). I thought I was just going to take pictures. Nobody warned me! For some reasons, my brain turns to jelly whenever I’m around that woman. No, not jelly; catarrh (phlegm) is more like it. Catarrh is what my brain turns to. It’s not like she’s mean or walks around with her nose up. In fact, she’s the opposite; very nice, sweet, charming and graceful. Still, I get nervous around her even with the sweet smile she offers everytime. I guess it’s just the aura around her, plus she’s an accomplished woman and she rates high in my book of women I admire. Within the short time I’ve spent around her, I’d say she’s someone I look up to. I love how she runs her business and how she loves boooks! You may not understand the reason for my emphasis on books, if you do not know me. I love people who love books; not school books, please.

Me, everytime I see the CEO

I must confess, my short meeting wasn’t a pleasant one. Oh lord! I couldn’t stop thinking of the 1001 ways I could have answered one simple question, immediately I stepped out. I had one simple task fam, just one!! And I failed woefully.

Well, I did answer genuinely. I told her of one of my experiences which I found interesting— getting to see with my eyes what the books and teachers said, as I could not state my most interesting. But if I was in my right state of mind, I definitely wouldn’t have given such mediocre answer. Lol! Now I suspect this to be the cause of my headache.

I wasn’t even thinking when speaking to her. You know that feeling of being with an influential person, let’s say Dangote or Michelle Obama, without forewarning. That’s how I felt. I wish I could turn back the hands of time to give her the gazillions of answers swimming in my smart head. *Sighs loudly*.

Sad thing is, you can’t even read her expression to know what she’s thinking. She made a comment on my answer, saying what I found interesting was just chemistry and a bit of common sense; if that was sacarsm, I don’t know. And at that point, I didn’t care, I just wanted to run out of her office. But thinking about it as soon as I got to my office, I was almost certain that was sarcasm cos I wasn’t impressed with my answer which I replayed in my head. If I were her, I definitely would have given a sarcastic response to me.

But y’all know the wise saying, popular among Nigerian university students, especially after seeing a bad result; “e go be.” That is what I’m trying to console myself with as I write. Unfortunately, that isn’t working for me right now. Or maybe I should just chill and maybe I’m just over-thinking things like the over-analyzer that I am. Maybe it isn’t that serious. *Sighs*. Maybe I’m just concerned about how dumb she must think I am; like it’s my fault that I was brain-frozen by her presence.

Today’s experience with the MD/CEO has made me more success driven. Only success can cause the effect I experienced. I’m going to be “that” someday, one who others look up to. Someday, someone’s brain too will turn to catarrh just because of my presence.

Have you ever had anyone make you feel how I felt ? If you have, please share in the comment section. Let us know ourselves.

Boys Will Be Boys

Life Random 4 Comments

Wait ooo. Hollup. You mean you are a boy and you can’t consume five cups of rice without leaving a grain behind to tell the story? You call yourself a man with your whole chest, and you can’t finish ordinary four packs of hungry man pack of Indomie noodles? Do you even have a chest?

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THE DESTINY CHANGER

Beauty Life Random 18 Comments

As I walked past a group of bored young men, I heard them talking and laughing out loudly, cos I was giving them joy. More precisely, my butt was giving them joy. Yes, my “succulent bum bum” has super powers.

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Where did VALENTINE go?

Life Random

Oh my freaking wings! How in heaven’s name did I miss Valentine’s? I went to bed on the 13th of February, and woke up on the 15th! But wait. Isn’t that what the internet people asked us to do?

Oh well, to be honest, while others were awwwning, loving and celebrating, I , together with some people were trying to keep the awwn going. We worked ourselves out to ensure no relationship goes sour on or just after Valentine’s. While me, myself, and I on the otherhand, got a box of headache with a bunch of body pain.

Since the clock ticked “0:00,” declaring the start of a new month, February, there’s been a lot eyes and ears pollution. Everywhere I looked on the internet, I was being attacked with videos and pics of lovers, memes mocking the “singleship” and making it look like a disease more dreadful than the Corona virus, and some love stories that would leave even the most hardened of heart teary. I was tempted to throw my phone into the Lagos lagoon just to save my eyes and ears.

Then one day, I thought to myself like I always do every year. Do people really understand what Valentine’s Day is about? Because all people concentrate on is lovers. Maybe not all people, but most people. I wondered how many parents get their kids,especially the teens, some Valentine’s package to remind them that they are loved, and that they need not look far for love. To teach them that they do not need a boyfriend or a girlfriend before they feel loved.

I thought of young men and women too; how many of them will think of getting mom and dad gifts? How many of them will get something special for their siblings?

I feel most people think only of their partners on Val’s day. They forget others exist and focus solely on pleasing their partners. Yesterday, I saw a couple of people get something for their employees, and I found that to be a really sweet thing to do.

Has it ever occurred to you that everyday should be Valentine’s? February 14, I believe was just set aside to celebrate the Saint, Valentine and maybe in his honour, do something big or significant for people we love. Expressing our love should be something we do daily and not just once in a year. Love can be expressed in different ways. Gifts don’t have to be extravagant or something physical. The gift of a bright smile could brighten one’s world. A sweet genuine compliment could make one’s week. An act of kindness could change one’s perspective of life forever. A few words of prayers could save a life. Little things like this aren’t as little as you think them to be.

I’ve always thought Val’s day to be overrated anyways. Lol. Please don’t tag me a kill joy or bad belle. I love to see people celebrate love and all. In fact, I love “love,” I’m a romantic at heart, but I can’t develop a high blood pressure because I don’t have anyone to get me roses and everything good on Valentine’s. So the best thing to do is to be indifferent. I was going to say I didn’t get anyone gifts, then I remembered I did make a couple of people smile yesterday, cause I helped them in making someone else’s day. I also planned to call my mom to tell her I love her, mostly so I don’t look like a saddist since I didn’t wish anyone a happy Valentine’s Day. But I was too exhausted from being cupid girl and saving relationships. Maybe yesterday was my best Val’s.

Shout-out to Funmi, my roommate in 2017, for the cold bottle of Coke and plantain chips on Valentine’s Day. Lol. I’ll never forget that act of love. I did feel really loved. I jokingly asked for a cold bottle of Coke and plantain chips and like play like play, I got one. With the way I was excited ehn, one would think I got a car from my boyfriend. I actually got teary. It was nothing to the numerous gifts she got. In my eyes, the gift she got me was superior to the ones she got. That was the best gift I ever got for Val’s but yesterday, I got lots of smiles and ‘Thank you.’ Let’s see if next year’s will beat this year’s.

So here’s me saying Happy Valentine’s Day to you a day later. Don’t forget to show love everyday. Shout-out to Chisom, Ore and Ifeanyi for pushing my lazy ass. I really was just waiting for the day to pass before saying anything about it. Lol. Shout-out to Ebere too, I see you. So because you gave yourself a treat on Valentine’s Day now, you think you’re now a motivational speaker, ehn? Me that I’m on my way to Cape Verde in honour of St. Valentine, to spoil myself silly, I’m not making noise about it. Shout-out to Ifeyinwa too, I’m just here observing. She even wore red on Valentine’s Day and won’t let me have peace just because… See, I don’t want to seem like a hater. I won’t say more.

Anyway, dear reader; What does Valentine mean to you and how did you spend yours?

EMBRACING HER STRIPES

Beauty Life Random 7 Comments

I recently saw a beach photo of a Nigerian celebrity, and my heart ‘awwwwn’ed. Of course, she was in a bikini and she was baring her tiger stripes to the eyes of both vultures and lambs. I found that to be very impressive and brave.

I’ve become used to seeing ridiculously edited pictures of celebrities, showing us only the glam side. So, you see why I was impressed? Never in my weirdest imaginations, would I have pictured this celeb to have stripes or any other physical flaw, cos she looks like a perfect real life brown skin barbie. I would have had that picture painted on my forehead, and my occupied chest, if I could, just for the world to see . Yes, that was how Impressed I was.

The picture brought memories of those days I wasn’t comfortable in my own skin; of how the girl who loved to show legs a lot, suddenly became a convent girl.

I think I’ve shared this story before. Well, here’s me sharing again, in a different shade of light.

Before puberty hit me hard into a coma that almost left me dead, I had the ‘perfect’ body; no one told me this, I just loved my skin a lot, that made it perfect for me. I had lots of really short skirts, shorts, and some short denim dungaree dresses. I loved showing my legs a lot. I was a child, so showing skin was acceptable, until some foreign things that behaved like snails started to grow on my innocent chest— it felt like stones were planted there. That was one very scary experience, I was just eight. Well, that’s not the subject now, let’s not deviate. We are supposed to be talking about tiger stripes. So yes, back to that.

I was ten years old when my body started to fully change. Those snail like creatures were beginning to get bigger and heavier for me to accommodate on my chest, and I wasn’t ready to have them caged, cos really, I found it embarrassing. I was barely eleven for crying out loud, why would I be wearing what people like my mother and aunts wore? That would make me an outcast among my peers—wearing a bra, I mean. So, I chose to deal with the pain that came with running, jogging, or walking fast with those monstrous things on my chest, without restraint. Like that wasn’t enough punishment for being a girl, I woke up to find some stagnant earthworm like creatures on my body. If I could run from me, I would have. I screamed and cried.

A lot of thoughts ran through my mind. Did I offend anyone in school? Was that the effect of eating spaghetti and noodles? Or was I reacting to the new body cream? Is there a treatment for it? The sight disgusted me, cos those marks really looked like earthworms— brown, and fat. They were still very fresh. I had them on my lower body. Well, the break of the news that it had no cure, destroyed me. It was finished; shakara had ended and I wasn’t even a teenager yet.

I just thought life wasn’t being fair to me. First, I had been dealing with my mates and adults referring to me as ‘bum bum’ or singing ‘Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, bumbum!’ when I walked, since I was very little. Let’s just say that didn’t really bother me. Okay, I just lied cos it actually did bother me, but I learnt to shrug it off. Then came the aliens on my chest; I was still really struggling with that— how their eyes popped, and entered their shell still freaked me out. It got really bad, my mom had to suggest I get them chopped off, since I couldn’t live in harmony with them. Now, I had stretchmarks (which I later rechristianed ‘Tiger stripes’) added to the list of my misfortunes. In my mind, I was like ‘God, how far na? I’m supposed to be your favourite child. Why are you letting evil befall me?’

That was the beginning of wearing very long skirts for me. If it wasn’t way below my knee, I wouldn’t wear it; it had to reach my calf just a little below where the stretchmarks ended. People assumed I was just a very churchy church girl, they didn’t know what was supping. Well, I was a church girl (still one), but I wasn’t the kind of church girl they thought— the ‘SU’ kind.

I dreaded Wednesdays, in secondary school, cos that meant wearing shorts, and it wasn’t an option. It was compulsory to be in the school sports wear. This was what I did; I’d wear black tights beneath my shorts and sag my shorts just so it masked my ‘disease’ to an extent. There was my school skirt too, it fitted really well, thanks to my small waist and wide hips but there was a ‘but’…it was a ‘wedding dress.’ It was long! I admired other girls who could wear knee length and mid-knee length skirts without a reason to be ashamed.

It wasn’t until after secondary school I saw the light. Isn’t God great? I finally woke up from the coma. The miracle happened cos I accepted that I couldn’t change my situation. I had no control over biological changes in my body. I didn’t choose to have stretch marks. Well, by now, they weren’t so irritating, the marks had faded from reddish brown to blend with my skin colour to an extent. That was the birth of ‘tiger stripes.’ I didn’t even know that was already a thin. The marks just reminded me of tiger stripes and I loved the sound, it didn’t sound like a disease of some sort. And that’s how I got my groove back. Yasss! I stopped having shame. Shame for what? No be person I kill, na stretch marks I get. Anyone offended by the sight should kindly look away. Don’t break!

So, my beautiful ladies and gentlemen endowed with tiger stripes, or any physical flaw at all, on any part of your body, don’t let it limit you from doing things you’d love to do. Please, be comfortable in your skin. Wear that armless shirt; put on those shorts; hit the pool or beach in that hot bikini or swim suit, only if you want. Do not let anyone shame you for a ‘crime’ you didn’t choose to commit. You know why? Cos life’s too short to not wear shorts!

Shout out to Inidima Okojie, for showing us her perfect imperfection.

PS: Did you know that stretch marks and cellulites are some of the prices (I’m aware of) for having thick thighs; just to save your lives? Shaking my head. The things we do for love ehn. Some of y’all don’t deserve us. Yes, I said us, you know what that means.

CONFUSIST OR FEMINIST??

Random 9 Comments

This thing called FEMINISM; there are more feminists in the world today than we know. The problem is many of them don’t know they are feminists; they act it, but renounce the noun.

Why? Because the word ‘feminist’ has been abused a whole lot by confused people who have no knowledge of feminism, but wear the tag about. Feminism is not misandry, it is not arrogance, it is not injustice. Feminism is fair. Feminism is not sexist.

I’ve heard many men say, “I am not a feminist, but… I believe both men and women should be given equal opportunities.” and it leaves me thinking; “Doesn’t that make you a feminist?” Further research made me realize men like this respect women and decisions they make. The married ones are very supportive husbands, not the domineering kind. They are men who cheer their wives and celebrate every of their successes without feeling inferior, they do not treat their wives as maids or robots. They act as parents, they do not leave their wives to take sole responsibility of parenting. Yet they claim not to be feminists. Lol… I laugh cos they dunno worz going on.

I also recently just saw an interview of a friend, in response to a question on the place of women in the society today. She said, and I quote “I would say that women have come to assume a great spot in the society today, though we’re still coming up. I’m not a feminist, so I believe there should be balance in the roles men and women play in our world today.” Are you also thinking what I’m thinking? Doesn’t that sound like a response of a feminist to you? But she just contradicted that with the statement “I’m not a feminist” I had to have a conversation with her to understand what she meant, and I was right to think she had a misconception of the word.

I do not blame people who do not want to be associated with the word ‘feminist‘, they are right to do so. I’d do the same if I didn’t have a fair understanding of the word. Come on, who wants to be tagged as one who spouts hate? I blame those who have no idea of what feminism is about, they probably just saw a public figure claiming to be feminist and boom! They became feminists too, juz laidat. They go about disturbing our peace with “I am a feminist” everywhere on social media. Eskizz me ma, you need not go about shouting and wearing tags displaying FEMINIST, let your actions speak!

You are a feminist until it’s time to split bills, or perform manual labour, or make certain sacrifices, that’s when you remember he is a man. If I’m not mistaken, Feminism is about equality. Right? You can’t be a feminist in the day and a I don’t know what in the night; you’re either one or you aren’t. Gbam!

You go about insulting men, displaying arrogance and very poor manners in disguise of being feminist. My sister, please take a chill pill and relax in the back sit, let us see the authentic feminists. I really do not know who schooled such people; they need to unlearn and be schooled again from the scratch. It’s just very unfortunate that feminism for some, has become a means of channeling out suppressed aggression and toxic traits.

I have a lot more to say but I’ll conclude by saying; feminism is the belief that women should have the same rights and opportunities as men. And a feminist is one who has such belief, be it a man or a woman . So dear readers, feminism isn’t witchcraft, it isn’t toxic and it certainly isn’t evil.

What is feminism to you, and what do you have to say about feminists of today? I’d love to know your views, we learn everyday.

BYE-BYE TO YEYE BOYFRIEND

Random

So I just left a just concluded class that didn’t hold and there was an interesting conversation among three girls behind me. I wouldn’t say I eavesdropped on their conversation cos they were loud enough for those two rows before their seats to hear, and they were just directly beside me.

Girl one, the fine girl and slay mama (looks to me like the queen of the pack of three); I’ll call her Tacha. Girl two looks like an adventurous and daring girl; let’s call her Ifu. Girl three seems to beeee, well, I don’t know; let’s just call her Bibi.

Tacha asked Bibi, “is bae celebrating?” , “Is he celebrating?” , She asked again. Bibi probably nodded in affirmation. Remember I was seated in front and therefore couldn’t see what was going on behind me. Anyway, Tacha went ahead to tell Bibi not to celebrate her boyfriend’s birthday with her own money and insisted she shouldn’t try spending on her boyfriend for his birthday. Bibi replied saying her boyfriend celebrated hers for her and that she only wanted to return the gesture.

Now here’s the part that got my attention and burst my brain. Guess what Tacha said in response to Bibi; ” Ehn, you’re a girl. You shouldn’t spend,” and in my mind I was like woooow, really ?? Remember I said they were three girls, here’s where the third girl, Ifu came into the conversation. Apparently, Ifu didn’t agree with Tacha’s way of thinking and objected strongly saying there wasn’t anything wrong with girls buying boys stuff… I don’t remember the rest of what she said but the point she made was that girls are capable of getting guys gifts, and spoiling them with goodies just as they do girls. She didn’t think spending should be one sided.

That’s how Tacha insisted o, saying she knew what she was saying, as experience has taught her the hard way . Then she gave an instance of her experience with her ex-boyfriend. According to her, she was always spending on her ex-boyfriend, bought him gifts on Christmas, got him a pair of shoes worth twenty something thousand naira and a cake worth nine thousand naira, and went on about how foolish she was for spending so much on him from her allawee ( pocket money) . She regretted spending so much on her guy on his birthday cos all he did for her on hers, was give her thirty thousand Naira. Apparently, she expected more and there I was thinking that was a lot (naive me, what do I know anyway?). Makes me wonder if her ex was a student ; I honestly hope not. According to her, he had the money to spend, while she didn’t. Ifu had to ask who did the breakup. Surprisingly, turned out to be Mr ex-boyfriend who did the breakup for reasons unknown to me; I won’t lie, I’m actually curious to know. I guess we; Ifu and I were both thinking She did the honours of breaking up cos Mr ex-boyfriend couldn’t maintain her or wasn’t living up to her expectations.

Now, I’m left to wonder if having a boyfriend is the new loom, where you invest let’s say twenty thousand naira and expect to cash out a hundred thousand naira , or a boyfriend is the breathing ATM, or an occupation to some.

If you were in Bibi’s shoes, what would you do; go with Tacha or Ifu’s advice? I definitely would go with Ifu all the way; after all, this is 2019 and we want equal rights and treatment . Abi? Lord knows if I have money to spare, I’d spoil my partner to a stupor, he would think I am a dream and wouldn’t want to wake up; but now that I don’t have it, as we’re still depending on family and friends for money, I no go do pass myself like Kiss Daniel advised in his hit song, so I don’t get pained like Tacha.

Here’s a lil advice to my bros and sis in relationships; no go dey do pass yourself o. It is not a by force thing to be in a relationship . Don’t spend all your money on bae and start begging for garri to soak. He who has ears; let him hear… I am going, bye.

Meanwhile, don’t forget to drop your comments in the comment section. Let me know your thoughts.