It was love at first read. How did i know it was love you ask? i felt it deep in my pants.lol. The time was 1500hrs, the place was my village salon. What was i going to do there? i was going to get my roots done(read was going to put peroxide on my nappy hair to make it straight like(insert any straight thing here) because my mama and my mentor thought my afro won't land me any jobs as i wont be taken seriously*which i think is bull, but then again who am i to bite the hand that feeds me*) I was a bit nervous as i had had horror stories of people dying in the drier or going bald after their scalp got burned by the chemicals.
Then i picked up the issue of TRUELOVE and thanks to fate i immediately turned to the back where there was an article by Biko. The funniest thing is i thought that Biko was South African, don't ask me why because all i know was that day was the best day of my life, i never even felt the peroxide burning my scalp until the next day when i woke up with red burn scars along my hairline.
From then on i started going to the salon frequently just to read the articles at the back by Biko until i came a long a blog that led me to another blog that had his blog, bikozulu.wordpress.com on the blog roll where i have been trying to catch up with his earlier articles. I can't decide which is funnier, the articles or the arguments in the comments section. I swear Kenyans are hilarious! What i don't get though is how some people can hate on him and he writes so beautifully. I mean the dude can write about a goat or amoeba and still manage to be funny as hell.
He even made me watch the TV series MADMEN because he kept quoting it all over the place. When i first watched it on KTN i kinda hated it from the first episodes. I found it way too serious as it explored the complex relationship between husband and wife which made me think way too much. And the weird conversations between guys at the office..BORING! And the dude playing Mozart with his trouser zipper..really? But because Biko loved it, now i love it too...yeah yeah...yeah...am a stalker.sue me. If he says i go jump in a lake, i will go jump(If that ain't love then i don't know what love is!)
Sometimes i feel like adding my comments or send an email but i have seen all the requests he gets in the comments section that am afraid to add to this already busy list. It's sorta like in DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES when Bree's dentist husband went to a party and as soon as he said he was a dentist people start opening their mouth showing him all their teeth problems and asking for diagnosis. Gross! So am guessing wherever Biko goes people are always like please look at my blog blah..blah..blah...He even provides his email for people to reach him, i mean how cool is that? I have never seen any veteran writer do that. So how could i not fall in like with him people? how could i not? The fact that he is the first dude i have "met"who admits to having read 'The catcher in the rye' is just icing on this cake.
I have bookmarked his blog on my phone. I read it in the loo, at the salon,at the bank queue, at K.P.L.C., at church(well i almost did, the pastor locked eyes with me and i logged off immediately)I sleep with Biko and wake up with him on top of me (the phone i mean you perv.lol)I can't wait to catch up with the other readers(read groupies). The stories that i remember the most are abandoned, Amoeba and Beetles and goodbyes. I have even kept my favourite knickers which i had planned to throw on stage when he eventually comes to the local college in my village to give a talk on writing( a girl can dream can she?). That was until i read the article Where Biko expresses his hatred for knickers and it broke my heart. Biko cut me...he cut me real deep! Then i got to the comments and the Knicker-bashing fest continues...
I love knickers. Especially the big ones that reach all the way up above my mokonyo(to help tame my wild pouch) and extend all the way down to cup my ass. It helps reduce the jiggling and hide them dimples. Don't get me wrong, i love dimples, just not on the ass.
But why do men hate the knickers so much though? I mean what did knickers ever do to you except keep the you-know-what safe for you huh? You see big women like me need all the support they can get. As an old spinster everything isn't where it used to be, they are all going south(if you know what my mean). All a girl wants is support, is that too much to ask? I hate thongs, the only time i will ever wear them is on my feet(thong sandals). Its called a string damhit(G-string). Would you wear a string on your body? I didn't think so!Try walking around with a string up your ass and tell me how it feels. I mean...
I have put peroxide in my hair just for you men
I wear a bra that supposed to be wonderful and had circulation around my bossom constricted(explains why older women suffer from breathing related diseases) just for you.
I shave places that the sun don't shine and suffer from itchy ingrown hair just for you.
I scrub my face with some granules just for you
I damn near choked on the fumes from nail polish removers and cutex(you know what i mean) just for you
I walk around sucking in air and holding in my stomach all to give me the illusion of a flatter stomach just for you
I even brush my teeth twice a day to manage my mild halitosis just for you
I trim my uni brow with tweezers (which hurts like a mf)twice a month just for you
I have even put another woman's hair(weaves) on my head just for you
I have had my hair braided so tight it gave me Chinese eyes just for you
Damhit! i have even squeezed into my kid sisters clothes just for you guys
I sleep with a slimming belt and can't even dream or snore like i used to just for you
There's a chunk of meat missing in my ear where i put my earrings, i did it just for you.
Recently i have picked up skipping rope to loose the fat around my abdomen just for you.
I am going to change my last name for you and carry an alien in my uterus just for you
I will even endure the stretch marks post pregnancy just for you candy yams
Is it too much to ask that i keep the knickers pebbles? pretty please...
No comments:
Post a Comment