ever since i came back home old wounds have been opened. i feel like i am slowly turning into that insecure girl who made a choice to wear black, grey and maybe brown t-shirts, hoodies, jeans and sneakers. it is easy to leave a familiar territory which you despise so much and decide you are going to start over. i learnt to not care, face my demons,actually realize i am not fat, open up more and trust people. i realised its not the case when my cousin ( one of the causes of my constant agony about my body) mentioned she called me fat only once and i almost drove off the lane. i wanted to stop the car and tell her to get the fuck out. i didnt know where this angry beast came from because i hadn’t seen her in six years and it was then that i realized ‘i have issues’. yes my cousin constantly called me fat, but so did my mother , my brothers, my aunties and my friends. i even betted if i reminded them of the incidents they probably wouldnt remember because people dont realize how their words do hurt…..plus they have moved on with life. maybe i was fat, i dont know, but the point was i didnt accept my body and still dont even when i thought i did. i spend so much time trying to get my own people to accept me for who i am because its their opinion that really ever mattered. the rational thinker obviously says ‘fuck it’ but no matter how much i do say ‘fuck it’ do i believe it?
i can’t sleep as usual because my computer is on and i’m trying to pretend watching invader zim will actually put me to rest.’no miriam dont do it’ but i do anyway.i put on my night gown and head to the kitchen where i find my mother fussing with what ever. i see my brother outside the window ,sporting a sad face, ’ fat boy is dead’. my apetite for oreos which i had planned on stuffing my face with disappear. our almost 13 year old faithful dog has finally rested. i feel relief because i could see the pain he was in for the past month then i feel sadness. we stand silently for a minute.
i have no idea what it means but it keeps me wondering. the slogan on my t-shirt i borrowed from my sister has been confusing my colleagues all morning. ’ its something about lesbians not eating sausages….you know like rabbits are vegan…’ said my sister. how fucking far fetched, i looked over the internet and couldn’t find a single interpretation (only rabbit recipes and vegan bullshit). It does do one thing, it keeps one thinking and like this t-shirt i try to do exactly that everyday to people( fucking cheesy i know). The theme for today was quirky closeted lesbian ( red ‘rabbits don’t eat sausages t-shirt, khaki shorts , gray tight and trusty brown riding boots yes i know, in this ugandan heat). my cousin kept staring at me, the whole ride to work trying to understand why i put together such ensembles ( trust me it really isn’t that weird but i live in a world where i’m considered very peculiar). ‘good thing you are an architect, you can’t get away with this in other professions’, is something similar to what she said. I threw my head back and laughed ‘well people are in for a treat then’. I had a shit weekend maybe it was because i got rejected ( another story) or maybe its because i actually hate living with my parents but this surprisingly sunny Monday morning something told me something good was going to happen and i couldn’t help smiling to myself and laughing at dumb shit. I am looking forward to it, don’t know what it is but it feels nice to ponder upon a vague feeling you are not sure of…..and its not love fuck that.
Love is hiding who you really are at all times
Even when you’re sleeping
Love is wearing makeup to bed
And going downstairs to Burger King to poop
And hiding alcohol in perfume bottles.
— Jenna Maroney- 30 rock season 2 , episode something
I do not know shit about love all i know is it stinks however that is not what this post is about. My point is being a woman is tough. We are made to feel ashamed of the things that are only natural to us. I felt slightly angry today as I read an email addressed to the girls in the office from a collegue about one of the guys complaining about having to see the grotesqueness that is blood on tissue that wasn’t flushed. First of all I will have to let you know the toilet used in the office [ by both guys and girls] is a bitch of plumbing design which will either flood or not take its contents down with it [even when you stand over it sweating pleading with God that the ferocious turd you dropped will go away]. Now that i have gotten that out of the way I will say being a woman and knowing women because i am a woman , we are like cats, we don’t like the thought of anyone seeing our shit ( or blood). The disgusting stories women share about their toilet nightmares is hilarious because it makes me realize how we don’t want the world to know the big bad secrets, we shit, bleed, pee, fart , queef, burp, snore, drool, snort etc. I am not saying share with the world ( though i occasionally will because i’m fucked up like that), but if you are going to go all the way to make yourself …..Back to the toilet at work situation, now to be honest, I considered the thought that it could have been me who left it and beat my self up for not flushing the toilet a sixth time even though someone was knocking at the door. I then stopped because I remembered I check the toilet a minimum of three times before leaving it but being a monster that toilet it could have coughed that spawn back up ( don’t know how toilets works didn’t go to plumbing school). and then I thought , who the fuck cares, im so tired of trying to be this perfect water proofing detail that wont let a single molecule of water in other wise. I think i got angry because i personally go all the way to make sure the toilet is proper for the next user and so do a lot of women( though some don’t give two shits, no pun intended) but mistakes do happen and we aren’t allowed to make them.
Men are disgusting on purpose when it comes to toilets they know it and most especially women know it . It is unhealthy for one to sit on pee or come into contact with it. I would rather see a big fat turd ( in the toilet bowl where it half belongs than have to touch someone else’s pee. When one whines about having to see toilet paper covered in blood i get angry because the only scarring you get is a little mental image.On the other hand I have to be o.k with the disease I might get because you cant aim for the bowl. I am not saying all men are like this, and this probably only relates to i and my colleagues and its probably not a sex thing but a human thing…. to be honest i do not know what thing it is but i hate it and all i can say is fuck it , yeah fuck it……dont know where this is going and i need t sleep
my brother gave me her book [ purple hibiscus] to read. i love how we both relate on certain levels. my new obsession.