Acting Like A Lady 1

Dear Blog Diary,

I must say that I'm trying, as in really really trying to act like a lady but the lazy me always fail. I want to place the blame on somebody definitely not my parents especially my mum. she buys nothing but female dresses for me. Maybe I should blame my brothers...I hung around them. Their friends were my friends tho they smack, roll eyes, bite tongue etc whenever I'm getting too close to their friends so I can't blame them too.

Now, I have myself to blame...

I roll out with guys right from childhood, my best pals were guys and still are. Thank God I have the musketeers and few other female friends who stick around despite my boyish attitude.

...I have been wondering lately who would be my best lady on my wedding day. hmm Gee'o? Yussuf? Joe? Ope? Kunle? they are all guys! Will I even have a bridal train? do I deserve it?

Never mind....

ACTING LIKE A LADY II

Dear blog diary,

It's been a while and that's because work has been killing!

Yes, it has! well...that's for another day. Let's talk about my transition to ladyhood.

I promised myself a birthday gift (yes, birthday has come and gone)... a dress.

I used to have one which I converted to nightgown just because I'm not brave enough to wear it in the daytime when everybody would see it on me. *covers face* You just can't blame me!

While growing up, I mingled with a lot of guys and there was no activity I didn't participate in. So, you should understand when I say I have different scars on my legs...big, small and medium. Now, tell me how do you expect a lady to wear dresses when her legs are not exactly ladylike?

Now, don't ask me why I promised myself a dress for my birthday... I had a plan! A wonderful plan!
...see a dermatologist and clean the legs before birthday *grins* It was a sweet plan, so I searched the net and got an email. Oh, I sent a mail ofcourse and got a reply to book an appointment....

I was going to do just that when Ope asked...How much do you have in your account?
So, I paused. I was about to a book an appointment with this big looking clinic, to see a specialist and I didn't have more than N10,000.45 in my account. What was I thinking?

Well...I dropped by at Yaba on my way home and bought myself a nice jean trouser, t.shirt and sneakers. Guess the transition won't work this year...Next year In Sha Allah.

BLANK...

It's 4:52 pm on Thursday, 11th June 2015.

I'm here trying my best to focus on things around me, work especially because I'm still at work. I have few minutes before closing hour.

Should I say I don't like today? I'm just wondering...you see, my trouser got torn. I don't know how but I believe it happened in the commercial bus I boarded this morning. It was really bad...as in a wide opening. I got a local tailor (ejikanishop) to fix but still, it's looking so ugly! Many people (guys) would look at me and wonder where I hail from.

I hate this feeling!

coupled with my local hair...I fixed it on Sunday. The hair stylist said I was looking so cool. Oh! I check my mirror every day and I hate who I see. I'm removing it tonight!

I have my story pending...two weeks have gone without me posting the story. My readers will get tired soon as I'm tired of my love and financial life right now.

Tomorrow is Friday and I still haven't started typing...I'm fucking blank!

It's after 5 already...I'm gonna pack up, drop at Yaba and get another trouser. I can achieve that at least.

And maybe get solace from the one my heart pounds 1billion times in a second for...just maybe because he doesn't feel that way.

Let me tell you a lie...I'm fine.

To The Lion's Den And Back

I saw them standing...twenty or more of them talking loudly and smoking weed. It wasn't my first time of walking through this kinda setting, so I threaded on.

My only fear was my exposed cleavage...what if they leered at me? what if they laughed at me? what if they circled me? My only fear...What If?

luckily, their situation at that moment wasn't open cleavage which I was yet to find out.

I met the man I went to meet, he was an elder and he has a church in the community. I actually went there to interview him on the current situation in the community because the death report this days is moving towards the high side. He explained that they have no peace in the community for some months...guys are ganging up, youths are dying, ladies are being raped *my heart tumbled in quick procession* houses are being burnt. *Oh my!*

I quickly rounded up the interview with the Baba and bid farewell. I met another man I was supposed to interview. He urged me on to take my leave immediately.

So I moved, my long and quick stride was working perfectly for me. *I fear no evil.*

Just then, Just when I got to the exit gate of the community, just when I thought I've survived it all...the thundering sound stroke. legs flying at the back of their owners, names calling/shouting, vehicles blaring and maneuvering madly... Within a minute, the community calmness changed to a raging storm and survivor was the fittest.

I wanted to run *God knows* I wanted to hide, I wanted to scream...so many things I wanted to do but my long and quick stride calmed me...'babe, you have me'. And I wondered if anybody from the clinic knew I would be there...in the lion's den. I remembered that I told Ope over the phone

Stray bullet; I remembered that too. It just killed recently...the fish seller girl at Lekki.

My devious mind and my long and quick stride ganged up against me...we threaded on calmly and we survived.

I will be there again...infact throughout this week. I have a mission and I must accomplish...fight or no fight.  I'm a trained journalist, forget I'm in the advertising world.

Pretenders...we all

He wanted it...He wanted me to laugh. So I laughed.

She wanted it, so I cracked my ribs

I smile at everybody and everything just to cover up my sorrow. I hang around people, make silly jokes and make them envy me.... I remember when my ex bf broke up with me over a phone call in the middle of the night. I got to work laughing like crazy over funny and not-funny things cos I didn't want to cry.

I pretend to be happy single. No need being sad, right?

But every now and then, I ask myself...Dola, how happy are you?

I remember this poem I wrote...THE PRETENDER...

They watched the outrageous drama

Staged by me and their impressions

With me clamouring on their rising ovation

They thought I had it all

One beautiful actress I must have been

Staging the play with other actors

Consciously and merely conscious

Gifted and not gifted

I drove them to 'locations'

My back must be covered

The smile smeared my cheeks

Ignored my eyes and emboldened the stars

I was gay and playful

I featured the roles in their staged minds

I belched the words their ears itched for

My talent, purely overrated 

Inside me, my heart ached for satisfaction not derived 

A natural actress I would have been

A natural role I should have played 

But my costume was embroidery of chameleon's garment

I craved for the troupe at the theatre

For their satisfactory smiles

Tho' they watched without penny

Their hearts beckoned my pretense 

Just one role I had to act...A Pretender

   

Such Audacity

My legs suddenly trembled beneath, the catwalk I managed to utilise for the first time got wrong cos I almost slipped. My hair was standing up on the back of my neck as I looked, as I looked hard at the object of my confusion.

I saw his eyes first...you know this kinda eyes that look like Takwa Bay beckoning you to come and swim cos the tide is light and cool...they are simply amazing!

And the owner? He kept staring at me with those Takwa Bay eyes. 

I managed, as in struggled to walk to meet him. I was going to ask..."have we met before?" but changed my mind.

The bus-stop was rowdy, it was closing hour after all and people were struggling to enter buses. 

I made several mental DO NOTs 

1. Don't struggle for bus in front of this guy

2. Don't walk away...it shows that you are weak

3. Don't get carried away...he might be one chance

4. Don't lose the opportunity of knowing him

He was still staring with his beautiful innocent face as I walked up to him.

"There is another bus stop down the road" I said and paused to see his expression. A smile crept up his lips, cheeks and eyes...Oh My! "Let's walk." I continued.

And we walked.....

He is getting married

So we chatted today...he is getting married

I saw it coming, he had asked me several times..."Will you marry me?"

"You know" I would always reply.

So, he has always been there, asking "who are you dating now?"
He keeps tab...he knows their names and why they didn't work out.
After a break-up, he would ask again...

When I told him my recent boyfriend is from Akwa-Ibom, he flared up..."You refused Urhobo boy to date Akwa-Ibom boy?"

I thought he had gone....

He is that kind of friend you can do naughty things with yet don't want to marry and when he finally finds love...you feel so bad or is it because I'm 'boyfriendless' now?

Remember that 'Midnight Dance' poem? I wrote it for him...he is a salsa dancer/engineer

I call him artistic Engr