I’m a 21st century diva.
Drama has become my middle name. For now u can call me Avee. I’m a doctor and I’m beginning to think saving lives is the least entertaining of my life’s dramas. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love my job, I work at the children’s emergency of a state specialist hospital and I love the way the mothers eye me suspiciously as they hand their sick babies over to the tall, grey-eyed, brown haired, beautiful if I might add and very black doctor who’s dressed like she stepped out of the pages of vogue, might I add, they tend to hold their husbands even tighter and answer all the questions I direct at the baby’s father but enough about the naughty sanguine that’s approximately 54% of my temperament, let’s focus on the 46% that’s a choleric& that’s the part that saves the day as I work my magic and turn their sick babies into laughing toddlers who want ice-cream or in some cases amala. My colleagues call me a machine when I’m in work mode& i hear the parents whisper to the other parents how wonderful I am…sigh, all in a day’s work. So basically work’s routine but my life outside work is a piece of work. Did I just say work three times in one sentence? Yup…i definitely need a vacation!
My earliest memories of growing up involved my younger sister, we’ll call her Tina. We used to sleep on d same bed&I was five years old, she was three &yet I was the one still bedwetting. So my devious 5yr old mind would wake up at night just after I did the ‘do’ and remove my wet panties and take my sister’s very dry panties off her butt and wear them. Think that was bad? Wait till you hear how I’d roll her over to the wet side since I figured it’d be way less embarrassing if baby sis took the blame. I wasn’t all bad, my mom always trusted me to give her candid advice like when I was four years old and I pointed at my mama’s thighs the afternoon after I saw a man with a herd of cattle, as my dear mama was panting away doing her rope exercises and said rather importantly ‘cow leg’. I described this incidence in my earlier blog entry. You can imagine I must’ve been a hit in nursery school. My mom got called to class by my headmistress cause I’d been unlawfully acquiring wafers cos I didn’t want the okin biscuit my mama bought. Mom was embarrassed to her ears&after that I can gladly say my lunchbox never had to carry the dreadful biscuits again. By primary school I’d become a crowd puller, I was the queen bee. In primary two my seat mate got punished at home for copying my handwriting cause I’d decided that handwritings were best when they were small enough for ants to read, even when I got dorky glasses in primary four I wasn’t deterred, I felt so important in them that three of my friends pretended they had bad eyesight so they could get dorky glasses just like mine. I made a new friend in primary four much to the dismay of my loyal subjects. She was the new girl& our mothers had been classmates in school& I was asked to take care of her. I must’ve done that pretty well cause my friends pushed her down the stairs on her first day&she broke her leg and had to wear a cast for months. I was the first to sign it. Primary school wasn’t all fun. On the homefront I was being bullied by a boy. He was four years older than me and enjoyed pulling my hair and throwing banger knock-outs at me during festive occasions, needless to say I developed a deadly fear of fire, so much so that at 12yrs of age, I’d learned to cook but needed someone to strike the match and light the fire. I reported him countless times to my mom but she never took him seriously& everyone teased me that he liked me and I remember how the thought of Uche *not his real name, liking me would make me sick with disgust. The more I hated him, the harder he tried. He tried to drown me at the staff club, adding to my list of phobias. On one particular day I’d worn a nice button down wrap skirt to bible club and after the grace as I was walking out the door, he’d pulled my skirt and all the buttons came undone and everyone saw my white superted panties and I ran home, skirt in hand crying my eyes out. My mom was cleaning some crabs for dinner and as I recounted the story tearfully, she gathered me in her arms and dried my tears but I think I saw a glimmer in her eyes. Uche’s mom brought him over to apologise but just as he left, he stuck his tongue out at me and no one saw. I dreamt that night that I stole all his clothes and he had to go to school naked, it was a good dream!
Wondering why I had to write my memoirs? Analyze this!!!
I’m a 21st century diva.