writings of an opinionated young lady

IF YOU KNOW YOU’D MISUNDERSTAND THIS POST, PLEASE DON’T READ I am a forced ambidexter. I say so because I was born left-handed, but some ogogo teacher who thinks she has two heads and I think has no brain made me start writing with my right hand. Both my grandfathers are left-handed. I’m not saying being left-handed is hereditary, all I’m saying is I wasn’t the only left hander in my family so it was not a big deal at the home front at all. I was really enthusiastic about school as a tod. I can say so because I remember stuff as far back as when I was three (feel free to argue with yourself). I can categorically say I felt out of place and confused for a very long time because my kindergarten teacher literally ignored me whenever it was “writing time”. Whenever she deemed it fit, Mrs Olaniyi (yes, I remember her name) would beat shit out of me because “I placed my pencil on the wrong hand”. I was a pre-schooler that used the hand that seemed normal to her prior to that time, so I rea...

or so i thought until the first time Tony decided to physically take out his anger on me. His silly mistake earlier that week had cost the company a ton of money. He got home that Friday rather gloomy, obviously still brooding over the incident. I tried to pacify him to no avail. We went to bed after dinner. He tried to get freaky around 1am and when I subtly turned him down, it was like I had been in bed with a total stranger. He went on and on about how he owned me and how much of an ingrate I was. He rubbed it in my face how other girls were dying to have him and how lucky I was to have him. When I tried to stand up just to go freshen up for him, he dragged me back and a very hot slap landed on my right cheek. He said it was rude of me to try to walk out on him while he was chastising me. He stormed out of the room and I kid you not, my hands were on that cheek till he came back at 3am. He apologized. He said he wouldn’t ever have to hit me if I never mad...

I think my ability to dust several strokes of cane is what led me here. Pardon my manners, my name is Maya Roberts and this is my story. I really cannot remember what my mum was like. All I remember is her super infectious smile that could melt a frozen heart. She passed shortly before my third birthday and that was when my life took a horrible turn. Barely a year after my mum’s demise, my dad married his mistress, who by the way had always been in the picture. Rumor even had it that she killed my mum and judging by the way she treated me, it seemed highly probable. She beat me till my body grew numb to pain. My new life felt like I was living in hell. By the time I was seven, there was practically no house chore I could not do. I would wake up as early as 4am to clean the house and do some light cooking. By 5:30, I’d clean the car with the aid of my very tall footstool; get dressed for school and then leave the house by 7am so I could make it to school before 8am. ...

I rant A lot And I know…… But seriously, whoever brought up the idea of mounting loudspeakers during overnight programs (regardless the type) should be denied sleep all through eternity. I must say I have the most screwed up sleeping pattern ever as I have been battling insomnia for thirteen long years. And it’s gotten even a lot more out of hand because for a while now as I’ve been entitled to sound sleep just within the hours of 1 and 5pm daily. No thanks to the church, mosque and clubhouse located God knows where around my neighbourhood. Actually, I think it’s more than one church. After a very long day of cooking or doing absolutely nothing, I try as much as possible to retire to bed around 11pm daily. More often than not, I realize its way past my bedtime when the church bells begin to ring and just when I’m trying to block out the screeching sounds from the church, I hear a deafening “She making me bark like a bingo!” from the club! Truth be told, I think I secr...

Okay, I'm a really light sleeper (if there's anything like that). So I had a free day today and since its about two days to my deadline which happens to be a free day, I decided to call up my supervisor who asked me to see him tomorrow. Being the really lazy bone that I am, I decided to see movies on my laptop and just lounge in all day. I didn't have trouble finding food as my sweet friend Tomisin already prepared brunch. I had a sumptuous meal and went back to bed. My cute little friend (whom I just met) came by and we had a long talk about how her GES exam went and her new modelling contract. What a sharp fella she is. As le manager, I felt real proud. To cut my very long story short, I retired to bed around 8pm (GMT +1) only for my sleep to be interrupted by a trio of unrepentant prayer warriors. As the "light sleeper" that I am, my sleep was rudely cut short with screeching sounds from my balcony. What was initially frightening turned out to be very annoying ...

I was on the phone the other day with my very good friend Ezinwa, it’s been three months after NYSC and trust me; these calories ain’t kidding. As a single lady, call me vain, but I don’t think its right to have one pack. I was seriously considering getting a waist trainer and told Ezi about it. It felt like she was going to eat me up but for distance when she yelled “Dami don’t try it!” Then the narrative began. Ezi had this boyfriend during service who kept complaining about sizable she had become especially in the tummy area. For a while, people thought she had a bun in the oven. Bae went as far as giving my friend so much money to get “a few of this girdle girls wear nowadays” to get rid of her bulgy belly and unsightly love handles. She was GLAD! She got two different types of waist trainers and things were fine till my friend could no longer breathe. Shortly after the training began, she noticed started having terrible heart burns. Coughing became really difficult a...

By this time we were already very fond of each other or so I thought and things were really going on very fine till the morning I woke up to a very large, bitter dose of reality. Sanzy woke me up with countless pings and a picture asking me to confirm if it was my Nick or not. I confirmed his identity and yes, he was on her little cousin’s case too. I was mad, then in denial, then calm till I went blank. I walked into Vicky’s room looking like a homeless and starved church rat. She asked me what the problem was and I simply blurted “Nick is a player”. With that I told you so look that I detest so much on her face, she scoffed, smirked and replied me with the coldest matter of factly “oh, so you are just knowing?” I foolishly slow mo-ed back to my room to continue that very long chat with Sanzy. The conversation did nothing but leave us both with the same questions on our minds. “Why is he leading Beatrice and me on?” “How many other ladies are there on the list?” I though...

Fast forward about a year after, I received a call from an unknown individual who turned out to be Nicanor. By then, I had completely forgotten about him and I was surprised and excited when he told me he was in town. We hooked up that weekend and I must say he’s a lot finer in person. He happened to be this very tall, dark, handsome, well-mannered and eloquent gentleman. He was the first of my virtual friends that I met in person and I wasn’t disappointed. Thereafter, we chatted occasionally till we gradually started chatting every minute. He became the best of my virtual friends and subconsciously, I started talking about him a whole lot. Vicky asked me what was up with both of us and I coyly told her we were just friends. She told me she did not see any reason why just a friend should rent so much space in my head and she hopes this does not end up to be one of my numerous stories that touch the heart. Nick and I kept being friends for months unend and this guy di...

I really do not know where to start from. All I know is that I have seen better days. Ironically, if this over hyped biological clock of a thing has taught me anything, it is that God’s time is the best. So until Mr Right finally decides to show up, I’d be here chilling on my grind and prepping to be the best better half I can be. Think of any kind of guy you can possibly imagine, I have met his clone and worse. All manner of men. Ranging from the block-headed blokes to the I don’t do relationships guy to the control freak to the mamma’s boy to the imperfect gentleman and then the suave player. Right when I thought my man hunt had found its way into the memory lane, I realized I’m nowhere but back at the very point I started: square one! Couple of years back, I met this very fine young man on one of the few social media platforms I belong to, we got talking and he became an acquaintance in no time. As we got to know each other better, I realized we hail from and grew up f...