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My Chemical Romance

    A long time ago, people didn’t marry who they loved, they loved who they married…

Sounds like a really, really, really long time ago right? But so many things have gone wrong in our world, and amidst the wars, destruction, economical crises and famine, there’s a new scourge. One that was such a shocker in times past but is now almost like pure water. Divorce!

People don’t plan to get divorced or so they think but what I’ve always pointed out is that you don’t get a brain transplant after you say ‘I do’.

In our grand parent’s time, there weren’t things like relationships in the way we look at it today. There were courtships. A man looked and looked, till he saw what he wanted and then courted her for an acceptable period and then they got married and after that, however she turned out, he was stuck with her. He sometimes added a new wife but never ever disposed of the former unless she was adulterous or tried to kill him. 🙂

Courtship wasn’t a trial and error phase. It wasn’t a time to test the goods and after eating half the food on the plate, reject the meal that was served. No! Courtship was a time to prepare for a life together. To get acquainted with each other’s families, to become your intended’s friend, to develop a love that was a product of a decision already made. They weren’t hasty, no. They did their homework, asking people who interacted with the woman about her because back in the days, men were wise… They knew that a woman who was openly being courted would hide her flaws and mask her true nature.They knew better than to try and discover her true character for themselves. Instead they watched her from afar, let her be in her natural habitat, saw her relationship with the world. And if they liked what they saw, they made a move.

The women had many suitors, they’d stand and talk for hours and though the men begged for a little more of their time and affection, they carefully guarded their hearts till they found one that they could trust. They asked questions, they sought counsel. They watched him at work and watched him at play. Wanting to be sure that he was a man they could love and submit to, a man worthy of their respect. There was no compulsion to tell the world that they belonged to a man who had not made his intentions clear or known. Being his ‘girlfriend’ was not a craved-for title. They selected a partner based on what was important to them. If their heart was set on material things, then they picked the wealthiest of the lot and if their heart was a romantic one, they picked the one who made their heart glad but it was a process. And it was made very clear to them that they had to stick to their decision.

Fast forward to the 21st century…men and women are in a constant hurry. A man picks a woman based on three things. Her looks, the sexual chemistry and the facade she puts up as her personality. He doesn’t care to dig deeper before he commences because he either isn’t ready for a long term commitment or feels that if she is all wrong, he can start over like a great gamble till he finally gets lucky. Even when he asks about her, the questions would not make it into a standard personality assessment test. They questions are cliche…What do you do for fun? What are your likes and dislikes? What turns you on? What’s your Biodata? Every sharp woman knows the sensible answers to these questions. I could morph from reverend sister to intelligent nerd to fun, feisty girl at the drop of a hat depending on who or what was at stake. All eyes on the prize! Women are no better. When money isn’t our driving factor, then we focus on his looks and even when we claim a depth above the average woman and focus on his character, our limited senses don’t unravel even a hair’s breath of information about a new beau before we jump in, head first. And we have a perfect excuse for our foolhardy haste….an entity called LOVE 🙂

People say ‘you cannot help who you fall in love with‘ and yes you cannot help the release of endorphins from your brain or the Oxytocin that gives you butterflies…These hormones work in sync with your limbic system, giving you the ‘high’ we call love. But where is that love some months down the line when you cannot stand to look at your ex? or when you walk away from a woman you once claimed to love, without batting an eyelid? If truly we have progressed over the centuries and developed a society that makes love the guiding principle for its copulation rather than a pairing of people with similar structural and social encoding then why is divorce so rampant? Could it be that a chemical romance parading as sexual attraction has totally redefined what we call love? Why risk all on a love that could in time, change to indifference and hate if subjected to the right amount of pressure?

Wouldn’t it make more sense to be with someone whom you had developed a genuine friendship with, one who knew you in and out, your flaws and virtues and then allowed the love to blossom? Than to love a perfect stranger only to realize you couldn’t live with his/her flaws. When a person takes his time, it is assumed that he is dull,has options, or too much shakara. Everyone is quick to swallow the eager fish only to be in agony when the bones get stuck in their throat. The average woman has dated four men by the time she is married and slept with a bit more than that. Every time she changed relationships, the excuses were the same. He cheated or they weren’t feeling the love anymore or they grew apart or there were storms they couldn’t weather or she discovered something new about him she couldn’t live with etc. We do the same thing every time but expect a different outcome. And then she gets married, already used to leaving at the first sign of trouble and you expect it will be different this time? Marriage isn’t much different, the storms are pretty much the same, the only difference is you can’t jump ship when there’s a storm. Seems like everyone is forgetting this. The men even more than the women. Now pastors are getting divorced, senators are getting divorced, beggars are getting divorced… Haba! Only celebrities used to get divorced back in the day…

Here are the top ten reasons for divorce worldwide:

– Disagreements on financial issues concerning bills, debts, spending, budgets, savings and wife’s earnings.

– Inability to discuss/disagree/dialogue without conflict/misunderstandings/boredom. Poor communication prior to marriage will escalate after tying the knot.

– Problems with sexual frequency, quality, and infidelity. Sex before marriage to ‘test the goods’ has not been shown to reduce this in anyway.

– Physical, Psychological, or Emotional Abuse towards spouse or children.

– Growing distant, disinterested, and eventually bored with each other. This often occurs if you were never friends and have nothing in common except the love you share. When the love wanes you find yourself cohabiting with a stranger.

– Differences in ethnicity, religion and culture. Couples may find themselves being pressured by the expectations of their spouse, or their spouse’s family to conform to the ideals of the other.

Disputes over the appropriate upbringing of a child. If you were brought up by indulging parents and your spouse was brought up by disciplinarians, your child rearing styles may clash and be criticized.

– Addictions; An addiction is an acquired compulsion to repeatedly engage in an activity, putting it before everything else, to the point that it negatively affects other priorities and prevents you from spending quality time together. It may include food, gambling, drugs and alcohol, the Internet, games, porn, your career/job, religious activities, partying, football etc

– Disillusionment: The ability to adapt to changes in married life often depends on having realistic expectations about a spouse and the marriage relationship itself. It is common for disillusionment to set in when romantic or other unrealistic expectations are not met. Marriage is not an escape from your life or a ticket out of poverty, like all beds of roses, it has its thorns.

– Personality clashes: marriage seems to amplify faults and personality incompatibilities may lead to a divorce.

If you have these areas covered before jumping in, it could save you a divorce and eventually, less children will suffer the psychological effects of a broken home. Patience is key, it is better to study a person well before committing. Hurrying into a relationship will lead to more heartbreaks and result in more cases of commitment phobia. Take your time, Do your homework! Save a marriage today! 🙂

Have a bomb-free week and a fabulous holiday….xoxoxo 😉

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18 Comments

Posted by on August 29, 2011 in Hall of Fame, Relationships

 

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The blood of the innocent must be avenged!

    Friday the 26th of August, started out as an ordinary day in Abuja, no one except those behind the attack could have predicted that the city would be thrown into turmoil before noon that day. It was business as usual at the office of the United Nations, a conference was on and about 300 people were gathered to discuss issues geared towards making Nigeria and Africa as a whole, a better place. They were unaware of the car that drove into the premises, they couldn’t hear the commotion outside amidst the applause as the guest speaker climbed up the stage. Human ears would never have detected the timer as it ticked in precision, counting down to the massacre.

We’ll never know what was on the pages of the speech so thoughtfully put together by the guest speaker, we’ll never know if any of the children in the creche would have grown to be the next Nnamdi Azikiwe or Wole Soyinka. We’ll never know if one of those people killed, housed an idea within him that could have changed the world, it’s all gone now. In a cloud of thick smoke. All we see now are rubble and blood. Blood everywhere. Blood on the walls, blood on the floor, blood on objects that could have once been human flesh or a nice suit. All gone. What a waste! Who is the god of terrorism? Definitely not Allah. I may not be a muslim but I know that people would not readily worship a God who encouraged war in the place of peace or death instead of life. Who are the people that belong to Boko Haram? Have they no wives or children? Are they dead men walking amongst us, without feeling nor reasoning? The blood of the innocent cries out! The earth is red, I look to the right and to the left and all I see are death and destruction. From hurricanes to suicide bombers, the human life becomes nothing but a laughable wisp, as man rises up against man, nation against nation and the earth against its inhabitants. A wisp nothing more, that rises up like a cloud to be seen no more.

Once upon a time, terrorism was tied to a man called Osama and to the people whom he led but now it has infiltrated every country and every sect. From the blue eyed Nordic monster that swallowed up the lives of the innocent in a country that long ago won the Nobel Peace prize to the faceless demons called Boko Haram that sign their name in blood wreaking fear in the hearts of every Nigerian, Moslem and Christian alike. Everywhere across the globe we work, we live, we sleep, we play like chickens in a cage, not sure who will be the next sacrifice.

Boko Haram I beseech you, if you have something to say, say it. If you have a grudge against someone, point him out, maybe he will be willing to die to save his people. One man in exchange for the life of many. Why do you continue to make mothers mourn their children? Why do you continue to rob children of their parents? If you had done your homework, you would have realized there were 20 little kids in a creche in the UN building. Did you not care that the blood of these young innocents would speed up the hand of vengeance upon you? Would you visit upon the children, the sins of the fathers? Where is your mercy? You send men out to die, sacrificing their lives and taking many with them to the grave but all to what end?

I weep for my country. I weep for a nation that can barely take care of itself. I weep for a government that seems helpless amidst the chaos. I weep for Nigeria. Begone with the propaganda, begone with the plots, call a spade, a spade. If you need help, ask for help. Let every man turn to His God and cry for mercy. We cannot continue to sweep under the carpet the issues that surround us. We cannot continue life as usual because our little circle remains unharmed. The human race did not survive millions of years by being passive. Sometimes good must stand up and fight. We are a population that is dying out, we need a saviour, we need help. We cannot continue to downplay the death toll or half-heartedly tackle this issue. We cannot continue to react rather than act. Boko Haram is made up of people, every human being, every sect has a weakness, find theirs Mr President before they take away all you hold dear. For they have found your weakness, they have seen the light go out of your eyes every time they take away the life of one of your beloved people.

Nigerians now isn’t the time to criticize. No one gives a rat’s ass anymore whether we should have voted Buhari or GEJ. That is ancient history. Now we must join him and fight terrorism in this country. It is not the president who loses wives, children, husbands, mothers and fathers everyday. It is us the people. Speak up, rise up as one Nigeria, sitting back to criticize while danger draws nigh is a sheer act of stupidity. While you jeer at the man the nation put in charge, our enemies plot their next target. Don’t wait till it’s too late. Adversity tests the character of a man. He needs your support. He needs ideas. He will listen, he will act. And let us as one nation cry unto God to have mercy on Nigeria and indeed the world. We will not be wiped out by brothers who have turned their backs on us. We will not let Boko Haram have the final word in this country. Stand up and fight!

Arise o compatriots, Nigeria calls, obey!

May the souls of those who died in the bomb blast rest in perfect peace… My prayers are with their families.

YOU SHALL BE AVENGED

Nigerians, may those who crave peace indeed have a peaceful week but as for those who seek destruction, there is no rest for the wicked…

xoxo

 
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Posted by on August 28, 2011 in Hall of Fame, Inspirational

 

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Don’t Let Go!

photo courtesy visualphotos.com

I’m screaming so loud, screaming till my voice is hoarse, screaming till my ears hurt and my eyes water. I’m screaming yet no one hears me. I’m screaming yet no one understands. Help me I beg of you. Help me before I hurt myself. Help me because I’m drowning, help me because I can no longer cope, help me because I’m losing the battle, help me because I’m not strong enough. Don’t be fooled by my smile, look into my eyes. Don’t just say hi and walk by, sit with me for a while. Give me your strength, just a bit of your courage and maybe I’ll have the will to keep on, maybe a bit of magic can have my spirits restored. I’ve sunk into grave darkness, the world has grown silent, all I see are people too busy to stop for a moment, my screams drowned by the bustle of the season. I need calm so I reach for the bottle of valium…a tablet too many is all it takes, I hear the whisper over and over again and then I swallow………..*Blackness………….Curtain falls!

I’m sitting in a car crawling in Lagos traffic and I look at the faces of my girlfriends as they laugh away and despite their excited chatter, a somber mood settles…I wonder if any of them is depressed, I wonder if any of them is gonna wake up one morning and take her life. I love my friends dearly and I know this all sounds a bit bizarre but I lost someone recently, unconfirmed reports say it was a suicide. We went to school together and tho’ we weren’t close, I can imagine the pain her family and friends are going through. They will probably never outlive the shock.
Beyond the shores of Nigeria, people get therapy for depression, they get professional counselling before and after a doctor breaks bad news. They form support groups to offer strength and a source of hope to strangers needing them. But here we think we have immunity, we believe in the power of love and the strength of the bonds connecting us to family and friends. We believe in our sense of personal strength and our ability to fight back when the world tosses its bleakest weapons in our path. We believe in the power of prayer. But only one who has sunk to the depths of depression knows that sometimes you are too weak to pray, too tired to even whisper those words and as hope slips away, for some, it takes with it their desire to live…

How many times have we been too busy doing our own thing to reach out and be a friend? How many times have we wondered why someone looked so sad and withdrawn but never bothered enough to ask why? How many times have we heard of the calamity that befell a friend when we should have been with them right through it, holding their hands every step of the way? How many times have you confessed in an unguarded moment how you seem to have lots of friends but in a time of need you have none? How many times have we turned to far away family for help rather than a friend close by because they seemed like the only ones we could actually rely on? How many times have we stayed away from a friend who needed us, unwilling to have them dampen our mood and justifying our actions by saying we wouldn’t be able to help much anyway? There is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother so the Bible says, yet we are hard-pressed to find friends like that. Our ineptness at picking friendships can only be rivaled by our knack for picking unsuitable partners in a relationship. Why would we invest time, money and love nurturing a friendship if in an hour of need, the bank claimed bankruptcy leaving us alone and afraid?

Remember the Hollywood stars who died lonely deaths because though they were loved by many, they still felt lonely and alone. Could it be because they never let anyone get close enough or because those who were close enough were too busy looking out for themselves to look out for someone else?
There’s a girl dead today because she felt like she couldn’t go on. There’s a man somewhere who looks so ambitious and well put together from the outside but inside sobs uncontrollably, desperately trying to stay strong while hoping that someone, anyone will see his facade crumbling away and save him before it’s too late…Many are losing this fight.

I look at my beautiful, confident, energetic friends and make a vow to be a better friend, to check up on them more frequently than I’ve done and to say a prayer for them every once in a while. I want to go from being a good friend to being a great friend…

“A good friend is one who bails you out of jail, but a great friend is the one sitting right by you in the cell…” 🙂

Every individual is different and every person has an elastic limit. Knowing when to wave a red flag and ask for help is crucial in this game of survival. We can’t always be sure of what life will throw at us but always remember that as long as there’s life, there’s hope. A problem shared is half-solved! May the souls of those who died alone in their struggle find mercy and rest in the life after. Amen.
Have a lovely day peeps…xoxoxo

 
16 Comments

Posted by on July 21, 2011 in Hall of Fame, Inspirational

 

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The polygamometer!!!

I present to you the new improved polygamometer™ ! Now customized to meet all ur marital wahalas.  version available!
Features include;
-Sex roster
-Cooking timetable
-Sleeping arrangements
-Bed position
-Owambe escort organiser
-Family planning manual
-In-laws birthdays organizer
-wives’ names reminder
-Children’s expenditure/wife calculator
-Tips on writing your will
-Insurance plan for wives trying to kill you
-Anti-jazz odeishi
-Links to Alomo-bitters distributors nationwide
-Travel agencies with standby tickets for when katakata bursts in your home
etc

Other features include;
-Helping you spot the ideal 2nd, 3rd, 4th or 5th wife by inputing woman’s details i.e size of bakassi, shape of jugs, color of lipstick and date of birth.
-Also includes tips on breaking the news to your wife that she’s no more numero uno!
-And ways of sending a wife packing with minimal lawsuits and ‘epe’ after she reaches her expiry date.
As advertised on TV!

It is sure to revolutionalize the polygamy system in Nigeria.
Now you can afford to eat okra, egusi, edikainkong and even afam soup at once without running bele!
For a more peaceful home!
All your women can live together without giving you hypertension!
All you need is the polyganometer!
Player version also available!
One year warranty…
Pls contact Ogugua and sons, No 43, Iweka road Onitsha!
Get your copy nowwww!

Marrying another wife has never been easier 😉
Have a lovely day peeps! Xoxo

 
3 Comments

Posted by on November 1, 2010 in Uncategorized

 

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Aunties from hell?!!

       Over the years due to the fact that both my parents worked for a living and had four rather unruly children to take care of, we were subjected to a varying number of strangers, living in our house and taking care of our needs. To the world they were house-helps, to us they were aunties! Mummy always insisted they be female since she had three girls and didn’t want them molested! We had been taught from an early age to scream at the top of our lungs and run as fast as we could to an adult if any man as much as tried to look at our pants much less touch us and we obeyed mummy to the letter! I’m not sure if she had a say in the looks or heights of the girls that were sent to live with us but they were always highly unattractive! Well what can I say? My mum was a smart woman… The first aunty we had was Aunty Grace. Not too sure what she was like cos I was a toddler but I figured she was nice cos she stayed with us a while. I was a little monkey as a toddler and gave her grief. Anytime we were home alone she’d put me in my play pen which I considered a tall prison and go about her duties. I first tried to gnaw at the rubber coated wooden bars but they wouldn’t budge, soon I figured out how to climb out. I was a lazy child, by my 1st birthday I absolutely refused to walk, my mom was mortified, the doctor said I was normal. I’d crawl at an alarming speed and my walker was my personal ferrari! I loved to crawl and that was all I was interested in so you can imagine Aunty Grace’s consternation when she saw me beside her. She screamed, I grinned and she screamed again. When my mum returned from work she told my mum in no uncertain terms that she thought I was possessed and she knew a prophet that could help since only spirits could have helped me out of the play pen. My mum calmed her and hatched a plan. I was put in the play pen and they pretended to leave the room but actually hid behind the door. Soon I got bored and started trying to escape, after several attempts the pigeon flew and my mum and aunty came out of hiding both screaming, one in surprise, the other in relief. Guess I wasn’t a witch afterall! The next was Aunty Ime, she was wicked and unfortunately for her, my sibs & I had just watched ‘The sounds of music’. We got her removed though I can’t seem to remember what evil prank we played on her. Next came Aunty Comfort! She was a comfort all right. Nice woman, used to buy us sweets and stuff but she gave mama attitude and got evicted! Next was Aunty Blessing! I’d just hit puberty when she came along. She always wore a huge turban and had a dress with really, really high shoulder pads and big boobs! She was a sight to behold, every time she washed clothes, she provided entertainment for the whole neighborhood with her singing…”On my wedding day, songs of glorious music reign in the air, on my wedding day, on my wedding day….” She had a thick calabar accent so it sounded more like ”On my werrin day…!” She made me her friend and confidante and told me about her dream man John! He was a big mechanic in her village and she had heard from God in her dream that he was her man! One day as we sat washing clothes, actually she washed, I sat, a strange thing happened. She was leaning over the basin of clothes when out popped her two breasts if u remember I’d mentioned earlier that they were quite huge but nothing prepared me for the big shoulder pads that fell into the soapy water. My eyes widened in amazement and all that was left of her big boobs were groundnuts that were even smaller than my 12 year old oranges! I laughed so hard I cried. ‘What would John say?’ I asked. ‘He no go know’ she responded, ‘He go toush am for dark!’ ‘What if nepa brings light?’ I teased. She looked at me with mild irritation as she rescued her sinking breasts and headed for the house…’I go off am joor!’ She returned soon after with a new pair of breasts and continued her washing and singing like nothing happened! I wonder if she ever married John. Then there was Aunty Bunmi, now even mummy agrees she goofed with this one! She had been given to us by a church member, she was a young single mother with no place to stay, desperately seeking a job. Now my mother has always been a kind-hearted woman and despite my father’s quiet objection she brought Aunty Bunmi in! We kids became baby sitters in addition to doing the house work cos she was such a frail thing and could barely carry her own body much less carry a broom! If that was the worst part we’d have been grateful but one evening as my father prepared to go out, he couldn’t find his very expensive native that my mum had bought him for his 40th birthday. He’d asked Bunmi to keep it in his drawer after she brought them from the dry-cleaners. As my mother stepped in to investigate, she was just saying maybe the girl had put it in the wrong drawer when she screamed! The other drawers were completely empty, all my father’s natives were gone, so were my mother’s expensive georges and laces. No one was spared, my shoes recently sent to me from america were gone too as well as a couple of my baffs! I cried my eyes out, Bunmi and her kid were missing too, no surprise there. My mum traced her to her brother’s house, she had sold most of the stuff and my mom’s friends beat her up, kinda felt bad for her cos her baby kept crying too like he sensed his milk source was getting whipped, guess he didn’t like whipped cream 😉 !!! Anyway we managed to put her and our stolen goods behind us and we children happily did the chores for a while. Then there was Fatima who we learnt was kidnapped from coutonou and mama gave her money to go back home, hope it wasn’t a scam! Then there was Titi who painted her long fixed nails all day and refused to do the dishes, that got her fired pretty fast! After her came sunday whom we weren’t allowed to call aunty, guess because he was a guy! Then there was Aunty Dayo who was pretty good save for the fact that she chased away every guy that came to visit us claiming they’d leave us pregnant! Then we had drivers too and l would be crazy not to mention Uncle Peter who always smelt of igbo, smoked while driving us to school, never missed a pot-hole, drove like hurricane Katrina and loved the sort of one-hit Ibo songs played on Ekeledilichukwu buses! He’s late now, R.I.P uncle Peter! Then there was uncle Ayo, the typical lagos driver. Always late, very obnoxious and he often carried girls in the car. He was fun though, miss uncle Ayo, guess he wasn’t a hit with the parents! Now we are older, drivers are not needed cos everyone can drive save for me (dont ask!) and we keep the house clean and in order without any extra help so imagine my surprise when my mum called to say she was getting a house-help! OMG!!! Abeg make una help me beg my mother! Sigh… 😦 The saga continues… Have a lovely day peeps, xoxo 😉

 
6 Comments

Posted by on October 22, 2010 in Memoirs

 

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The Other Woman!!!

    She was there long before I met my beau, the only thing he paid attention to. The only entity that dictated his moods outside work! She was probably absent the first day I met him. It was a struggle for him to take his eyes off her but I was a woman on a mission and I was ready to seduce him, whatever it took to get his attention! He noticed me and I thought that would be the end of her till a few days later, he came to pick me up for our first date and was dressed in a horrible porous oversized T-shirt with her name brazenly on the front! I was so mad, I wanted to tell him there and then that she was a ho! He couldnt allow her control him like that. I know he had her first and she’d been his childhood sweetheart but she’d had so many men that I wondered why she wouldn’t just let me have this one! We started dating and I was confident that with my loving and good cooking he’d forget her and focus on me but she only gave me peace for a little while at a time! Every time she came around, she seemed to mock me as my man would become her man, totally focussed on her and totally at her mercy! If she misbehaved that day I’d be the one to suffer it as my man would be moody all day and wouldn’t even touch my food. He insisted on wearing the clothes she picked out every time she was around and I could never contain my jealousy when my man’s eyes would light up and he would roar triumphantly every time she did him good! Why couldn’t I make him roar like that? Not even after a delicious plate of pounded yam and egusi soup with assorted meat and then me for dessert, not even when I wore the red panties he liked so much. What was it about this woman? No matter how many times she let him down he kept going back to her, kept hoping and believing in her, kept trusting her not to let him down again. He defended her everywhere he went, boasted about her, even made bets. Couldn’t she ever do wrong by him? I plotted and plotted against her, tried hard to win his affections, even cried! He’d hold me in his arms and say ”I love you so much and you are the most important thing in my world” but if that was true, why did he forget to call when she was around? Why did he come late for our dates and sheepishly say he’d been with her. He expected me to know and understand afterall so many women were in my position! He and his friends loved her, his friends preferred her to me no doubt and they’d drag my man out of the house so they could all go see her, chatting excitedly as they went not even noticing my displeasure. I spoke to my mother about my pain, my fears, my insecurity and she said, ”If you cannot beat ’em, join ’em!” I was shocked but my mother is wise and I took her advice. I am glad to announce that I am a happier woman now! I know my place as the second or junior wife. I have embraced our threesome and we can often be seen on a warm evening having a menage-a-trois and roaring in combined delight! Yeah I’ve become shameless but don’t judge me!!! I did what I had to, I didn’t realise I’d enjoy it this much. I look forward to my time with her and don’t even complain when my man’s friends wanna be there too. Yeah yeah I’m a Chelsea fan and I love my senior wife Chelsea!!! Blues for life…. ;-)
moral of the story; Don’t pass judgement till you’ve tried it; Kpomo is the poor man’s best meat for a reason!!! Have a great day peeps….xoxo

 
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Posted by on October 21, 2010 in Hall of Fame, Relationships

 

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Beauty and the geek…

    Choosing a profession was an important part of my growth process, my parents bought me strategic toys geared at manipulating my young mind away from movie stars and models to rocket scientists and neurosurgeons. One of my favorite christmas presents ever was a game called trail. It was an advanced lego with bits& pieces for making the most beautiful houses. At eleven, I was quite the accomplished architect and fancied myself building houses forever till I got a doctor’s kit on my twelfth birthday and it changed my life forever. My teddybears and dolls were my patients and I was their doctor and hero and at that moment the detailed drawings of girls in fashionable dresses and the long hours spent in front of the mirror wishing I was a blonde supermodel fizzled away into oblivion. Well it’s not that they fizzled away, they just took a backseat. Never stopped wishing for a moment that I was hot. My younger sisters were beautiful, everyone said so but I was the ugly duckling, thankfully I was very smart and always came first in class so I still had something good about me but being good has never been enough for me, I wanted to be excellente, I wanted to be the best. I decided that my first step to being beautiful was to get perfect skin. I wasn’t a pimples paradise to begin with but I wanted my skin to be awesome. I first started stealing my mom’s expensive neutrogena cream and since we weren’t so rich mum always got annoyed when she realised her cream was finishing faster than normal and she spent long minutes devising ingenious hiding places but I am my mother’s daughter and I always found the cream. One day as I was taking a bath, I had a wonderful idea, since my face was always so smooth after a bath, my face would be doubly smooth if I slept with soap on my face, I could imagine the perfection. Now don’t get me wrong, I had good skin, now I realise that but then I compared my skin to the glamorous stars in the magazines I read and it always fell short. Wish I’d known then that the pictures were air-brushed and so heralded my first skin disaster, I surely didnt see it coming. First I’d sleep with mild toilet soap on my face n wake up with glowing skin and I was exhilarated. I didn’t realise that the devil- I blame him, was only biding his time. I got a pimple on my forehead a few days later and my aunt suggested I use her strong medicated soap to wash my face, since her generosity was short-lived and there was no guarantee she’d give me the soap again the next day, I decided to rub a generous amount of the soap on my face overnight. Did I hear you scream disaster? It was far worse, by morning my whole face was burnt black like the three gollywogs in Enid Blyton’s children’s book. I was horrified. My siblings laughed and my mom was even more horrified than I was if that’s possible. She made me put honey, egg-white, aloe vera and a whole lot of other things on my face. I prayed and prayed, oh how I prayed, I promised God I’d be good, I’d stop wearing my sister’s socks when mine were dirty, I would stop thinking about kissing a boy, oh how I prayed. God must’ve gotten tired of my incessant ramblings because by weekend my face was peeling and leaving uneven colored skin, I looked like a calico patch. On sunday my mum insisted I go to church, I begged, kicked, screamed, cried, pretended I was ill but she just wouldn’t budge. Didn’t she realise it was social suicide? My crush would see me and my frenemy Nnenna would make sure everyone saw it. I finally resigned myself to my fate, put a centre parting in my hair and combed most of my hair forward to cover my face. As I stepped into church being careful to stay away from everyone’s way and scuttled towards a seat on the backrow, Nnenna saw me and hurried towards me and on coming closer she exclaimed in the loudest voice i’ve heard ‘OMG, what happened to your face?’ Everyone turned to look at me and I silently asked the ground to open up and swallow me. When everyone got tired of staring we continued with church as usual. You think I learnt my lesson? Nah…weeks later, a friend of my mother’s sent her an expensive-looking beauty product from France, the writings on the fancy bottle were all in french and I was eager to test the magic potion. Mum asked me to wait till she could ask her friend what exactly it was but I was too impatient and one evening with nothing better to do, I took out my french dictionary and decoded the erstwhile mystery. Why didn’t someone tell me the french are a confused lot who call cream soap and soap cream or maybe I was the one confused. Anyway I thought it was a special night cream and after taking my bath that night, I lavishly rubbed the cream on my face hoping to wake up and find myself transformed. I was transformed alright, the disfigured hunchback of notre dame would have laughed at me. I was hideous! My face was swollen, the size of a football, my eyes were little slits in my face, I had no eyelids. What had I done? I rushed to the sitting room where my mom was saying her morning prayers and on seeing me, she burst into tears. I did look a sorry sight. After I narrated the whole story, she had to hold herself from giving me a good flogging, she said I’d gotten punishment enough. She warned me not to let my father see me in that condition, so all day I played hide and seek with my father in our three bedroom flat. It wasn’t fun though, I couldn’t shake off the feeling of dread that I was irreparable, I was shrouded in self-pity and cried my eyes out all day, inbetween crying spells, I forced myself to sleep with a mirror close by hoping that sleep would somehow be able to reverse the hideous spell. My mom gave me all sorts to apply on my face but I was still miss balloon face. By evening thankfully there was a slight decrease in the size of my face though my eyes were still slits. my younger sister in a bid to cheer me up, gave me some eye pencil and suggested I start learning how to beautify my new face in case I got stuck with it. Thankfully by morning my face was significantly smaller and I was starting to regain confidence. After the ordeal, I finally decided to stick to stealing my mom’s neutrogena and I could have sworn my face breathed a sigh of relief of its own accord.

 
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Posted by on October 19, 2010 in Memoirs

 

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