Tag: #depression

Day Six of The Afrobloggers #Winterabc2021. Body-Shaming & Stereotyping

Day 6 here and I about the body-shaming character of our society.

She was a young, small, beautiful girl. Very happy in her petit form. Everyone called her a model. She flaunted and celebrated life in her slimness. To the nursery school, she went, fat people were bullied. All sorts of names were thrown at them. Pigs, gluttons, fatso et al. the clothes were even cheap and easy to find by her mother. She was the flower girl and maid to so many events. She played an angel in her school plays.

But then she joined a mixed high school and the scale tilted. The boys in her school had differing tastes. Some fancied those abundantly endowed at certain parts of their bodies and those that are her size. Slim. What they called figure one. The former, figure eight, hour glass and so forth. It was so many a guy’s dream, to have the flyiest girl in school. The one with the biggest assets or the most curling curves. A many African guy’s definition of a sexy woman and many a time associated with being gashing or squirty. If you know what I mean. Competition to be noticed was always stiff. Your beauty, attitude and skills had to stand for you. Your body, that one automatically spoke for itself.

From high school, she went to higher institutions of learning which is just as well the entrance to adulthood and it just got worse. From girls in her class to adverts and social media, the girls with curves were always celebrated. They got the most whistlers from men in the club, on the streets, even lecturers themselves. Girls in so many music videos were those with the body, the lyrics glorified them. It felt like abandonment. Everywhere, they were given the first choices. And because they were the target of most men, they were the ones with the coolest clothes, latest phones and trends.

The body shape field had tilted immensely now. Her skinniness was now being questioned. It was at worst moments attributed to strange diseases. Stereotypes always came up. That small girls had HIV/AIDS, were sicklers and many others while the big girls were always thought to be healthy. That, “how one could be having a disease yet still maintain that look? Shaa. Impossible” and the guys went in. It was devastating.

And then came the money makers. The business men who had seen this trend and brought on to the market creams, body pads, operations and pills for women to enhance their bodies did not help the matter in any way. In fact, they made it worse. The field turned desperate. Many more and more females went for these and soon, the smallest of the girls were getting bigger and were reaping the ‘benefits’. More men and sexual advances with the offers they brought with the demands. The bonuses that came with having booty changed a lot of a girl’s life.

The small ones felt left out. Those who could not afford these felt the world had turned against them. The big booty girls were running the show. With the way they flaunted their curves, the way they dressed, the way they slayed it on social media and the media offers they got to feature in so many media ads. The men adored them, they worshiped the booty. Those who held influence in offices had places offered to the juicy ones. It was that bad. The field could no longer accommodate the small ones. It was a social annihilation. And then the white man has made Samantha the sex doll and it is the same noticeable thing about it. The booty is voluptuous.

But I only wish they knew that not all men are after the booty but the beauty. Maybe the inner beauty and that actually everyone has someone who loves them the way they are. I hope our society corrects that. Everyone deserves to be loved the way they appear. Men should also know this.

It’s Hard To Believe…That You Left.

…that you no longer wanna talk. To me. The deep conversations. When you used to say that my voice was like the best song. To you. RnB. Like your favorite rhythm & blues. Singa. Ykee Benda. It’s hard to believe that you no longer wanna walk. With me. Nor do lovers things in the house. In the dark. On the bed. On the streets. Passersby are our witnesses. It’s hard to take it in that I lost it all. I took the fall. Sky fall.

It’s hard to believe that now what I got are the memories & scars. Of the life that we had, the laughs & the cries. The fears and our strengths. That was love. The dreams & the plans. The dates & the fights. The love that was made, the passion & its flames. 50 shades. Now fading. Like the sea waters that had washed up on the beach but now ebbing.

It’s hard to believe that I always told you that I never wanna lose it at all. Now I wish I had screamed the words. Written them on a rock or tattooed them on. Permanency. Now look at me, a moving, heartbroken Neanderthal.

It’s hard to believe that there’s nothing that you did without knowing its outcome. And even all your apologies & cries still none convicted you to stay. When I’ve ever talked to you about everything that you broke. And everything that you broke were my promises & insecurities to you that I’d spoke. Iscariot. What a waste of whatever I told you. You girl, you stung me deep to my soul.

It’s hard to believe that now I have another…battery dies.

In The Rain, She Left.

The rain beat relentlessly on the roof of their small house. A few flashes of lightning. The winds howled lowly. The trees stood still gloomily in the dark, bathed by the moonlight. Dead night.

The room was a mess. Sheets lay crumpled on their bed, pillows laying lifeless on the cold floor. He sat in one corner of the bed, head bent into his hands. Eyes red, thoughts deep. A man defeated.

She stood by the door way. It is open, curtain flapping into the room like a ghost is making its way in. Her suit case made, her funny pack strapped on yet it wasn’t even funny. It’s a cold morning. Raining.

She’s leaving & no matter how much he’s pleading, how much he’s declaring his undying love for her in this cold morning, she stepped out into the rain, & with her umbrella sprung, she left him.

It’s not always bliss when it rains. Tears rolling. 

I Wish I Was Good Enough

So that I don’t have to experience the pain of having to realize that the person you love, that one who you wanted to spend the rest of your life with is not actually going to be the one to live through your life with.

I wish I was good enough so that my hopes, dreams aren’t shattered and go through that moment again of collecting broken pieces and forging forth, weathering the storm that comes with dealing with moving on blues. What a broken lover’s journey.

Having to join the University of Pain. Giving someone my time, heart, life and they trashing it like it’s nothing. Pushing me away like filth. With no remorse. No care. No sense of sympathy or empathy. Whichever fits the occasion. Being like a ghost to them. Thin air. Passed by unnoticed like a street lamp. Having to be a total opposite of what I took them to be in my life. May that day in my life never come.

I wish I was good enough so that your mind isn’t preoccupied with another man. I wish I was good enough so that I could hold unto you, never let you go, until you say you love me too, meaning it from the bottom of your heart, because I love you too.

I Never Won That Race

I never loved you to hate you. God damn it I couldn’t hurt you because of the way I loved you.

You were my number one. That’s undisputable. I’d written your name across my heart. Stuck you on like a tattoo. How do I even erase you now? Why should I? Do I have to?

It’s painful when you’re all the way there when there’s a lonely soul hurting here, ready to mend all that he’s made wrong. All that he’s broken. But pardon me, what exactly is his wrong? Maybe loving you was his fault. What do you want; for him to bring you the moon or for you to give him a second chance to discover a better him? The clock is ticking.

It hurts looking behind into the future that will never be. I wish you could also see the same thing and not our broken dreams. I wish you could love me back baby, this is the truth that you can’t erase. But I gotta take a rest because I am not the best. I now gotta pack & leave for I never won that race.