I dont like Shakira

I plan to follow the 2014 Fifa worldcup to the very last match. Ignore the fact that I have missed the first four and I am likely to miss the next 8! 

To the point: the world cup reminds me of the previous world cup in 2009 and happily, of the world cup soccer anthem Shakira's Waka Waka. I say happily because that song brought happiness to my life, 2009 is the year my son was born, and believe it or not, he watched the entire world cup! He would not miss a match, I kept going to the hospital because of the effect the TV was having on his eyesight. His first word was baooo! and the first song he learnt was Wakawaka. It was wakawaka everywhere, my ringtone, the only video my phone could support at the time as it had no mem card slot... it was the song my son learnt the words before he learnt to call me mama.

Our love for Wakawaka and the impact of the song in my house not withstanding, Shakira is the one artist I can genuinely say I don't like (I am avoiding to use strong language here). Other artists, well, I'm indifferent. They can do whatever they like as long as they don't get into my personal space the way Shakira did.

Ignoring my many childhood mishaps, there is one factor in my growing up life that has been very sensitive, my boobs. I know I have mentioned this before but my boobs were my biggest cause for concern. (My mothers too if you count the number of times she seemed completely lost when it came to bra shopping). Unlike many teenage girls, at class 5, aged 10, I had visible boobs! yes, that is so true! By the time I was 13, my boobs were that size that every man dreams of. Just big enough, firm and sharply pointed! I also loved them, that is until they started growing at an alarming rate. I got my first toy bra at 13 years, by the time I went to high school, I had to wear a real bra, by my second year, I could not wear my first year bras, and that happened again in my 3rd form. By the time I was in fourth form, my boobs could not support their own weight, I could not walk without a bra, I had issues dancing or participating in any sporty activities and my mom was completely lost on what to do. I remember vowing that my first salary would go to plastic surgery, and if you doubt how bad it was, let me tell you that I actually went to Karen hospital and inquired on the charges for plastic surgery, which were prohibitive and thankfully so because now, having grown up, I changed my mind and I love my boobs the way they are: BIG AND FULL!

Anyway, back to Shakira, my problem with her started when she released that song Whenever Wherever. Very specifically, the line that goes 'lucky that my boobs are small and humble so you don't confuse them for mountains'. That song was released in my 1st or 2nd year in high school, just when my boobs were growing out of control. Allow me to use the word I have been avoiding, I hated Shakira and everything to do with her; including her small and humble boobs with a passion. To this day, despite the impact her song had in my life, I do not like Shakira, at all.

Now that I am grown up, the issues with my boobs are almost gone. Almost because no matter how much I love and accept them, they are still a challenge to dress. A proper bra for me goes for KES 2500, while the normal bra goes for 100 or the sexiest matched lingerie goes for not more than 800 in the very same damn shop! I have like 15 bras, of which I only wear 3 because the way they make me look matters. When I was a broke chik trying to work her way up, I could not afford these bras. Not that I am not still working my way up but fortunately, I can afford a pair every once in 2 months.

I am no longer sensitive about the size of my boobs but #someonetellben# that telling me he loves small boobs that he can cup with the palm of his hands was not very sensitive, given he is the man I struggle to look stunning for at all costs. Not sensitive at all. It was like Shakira in my life allover again.

Happy is Unpopular

I'm trying to figure out how to start this, greetings are good, enquiring about you is good, but 'hello ladies and gentlemen' does sound old and stale, right? right. So well, you must be well to be here so lets get the hell on.

Anyway, now that greetings are over and done with, I sincerely feel guilty for being away despite the fact that I'm always alone in here (sarcastic giggle). So anyway, I've been trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with me, why of all places I can miss the disqus world! Thats right! The disquss is more important than this house here, atleast it's not empty. But I figured out what is wrong, and while I wont give you anything important today, I will tell you what keeps me away from this blog. 2 things:
1. I'm single / I've been ditched  / I have ditched (smiles wryly to herself, some men can never be ditched, how now?) / there is another man in my life who is not this man
2. My relationship is NOT unhappy / my relationship is going well / I'm getting enough sex (or not, but I am getting good sex no matther how rare) / The sex is terrible because well, it is not by this man

The last options for each of these reasons is a good enough way of telling you that if this man is not the man in my life, then there is no ladybird, no blog, no.... simply nothing worth it except my other compulsory earthly duties. Thankfully though, since I started posting....whatever it is that I post, the man was, the man is and hopefully, the man will always be forever and ever till eternity or rather till the mortal part of us gets in the way. Somebody say Amen, that was a genuine prayer!

Anyhow, given the two situations described above herein, (hehe, good language girl), I'm in the situation described in number two, that is, I am happy. Yes dears, I am so happy, please don't take it away from me. As usual, its about my relationship because there is not much of my other life that is exciting enough for you creatures from another mother planet. So yes, Ben is there, Ben is so there, Ben still has the looks of a greek god, but now he has a bonus golden heart, Ben is still giving me great sex, occasional as it is, Ben is oh so great and yes, I admit, the thought of him just made me oh so horny! damn!. Do you think the obsession is back? I would rather not, that thingy makes me bitchy, it isn't healthy!

Anyway guys, I love Ben, Ladybird loves Ben, Ladybirds heart is molten (who cares if that's bad english?) and because of all this, she has nothing to write and not time to write it because, where will she get the time off from ogling the newly installed wall paper on her phone? Oh holy mother of all handsome men, thank you.

A Woman Reduced

Brethren, what does it imply when a woman is reduced? Well, to me it means a number of things which I am sure are not too far from the real meaning if at all. To me, a woman who has been reduced refers to one who has been stripped of all her femininity or simply, all that identifies her as a lass to whom the jungle rule of attraction applies. This to me is a woman whose has lost her confidence, her dignity, her grace, her radiance even if it’s only on the inside. If you are not a woman, you probably might find this strange but no matter of what caliber, every woman has undergone this phase at one point of her life. It could be when her friends in school distanced themselves from her for one reason or another, or when the man of her dreams cheated, or when she lost that beauty contest or even a brains contest and from then henceforth thought everyone else was more beautiful or could see through to her porridge like brain, it could be when her husband of some years, a man she had sacrificed to be with and admired despite his shortcomings decided she was no longer a worthy enough woman to be his wife… the list continues. Yes, been there myself, done that, fallen face down, reduced to the level of dust. But one thing I have found consistent in my life is my ability to stand up once again no matter how hard, to dust myself up, take a shower, apply some Vaseline, shine brighter than the sun and smile like I owned the world. It is definitely one of the hardest things to do, but really without a choice.

Today I am a sad woman, sad indeed. Sad because after all the failures, I seem not to learn. Bitter because after so much struggle, I have given leeway to God’s creation, made like me, to reduce me, to push me so low, I can smell the dust. I am a sad woman today because instead of growing, I have been reduced to a lesser woman compared to a year ago. Yes my dears, I have been beaten once, twice and the third time, I had to display my shameful face here with the hope that the degrading nature of it all will teach me a lesson or two.

Today a colleague of mine tried to apply her non-existence knowledge of psychology on me. Her theory was that I must have been mistreated as a child and the desire to have that pain continue is what makes me allow that person to hurt me. Of course, she couldn’t have been more wrong! And I am too caring to disappoint her from her ignorant reverie. I was brought up by my grandparents, at least most of my life I was. Not only were they capable, but they raised me with a  lot of love and adoration. It is no secret in that family that my lil cousin and I are my granny’s favourite. So hell no, no pain was inflicted on me and I have no desire to have pain inflicting males in my life. To be frank, I have tried severally to follow that trail of thought, you know, to link my current behavior to my upbringing and I only can tell you what I lacked and what I need. I was brought up partly by my grandparents and partly by my mom. I know for sure that my dad love(d/s) me to a fault. But thanks to the dictatorial system adopted by my granddad, I barely knew him. He was forbidden from visiting lest his feet be slashed, and coming from my grandpapa, be assured that was no mere threat. To this day, my dad has tried to mend that relationship but I can tell you, it is too damaged to be glued together using superglue. I’m unsure of the kind of intervention that would salvage that. My grandpa was also not the type of man who mingled with kids, to this day I cannot have a conversation of longer than two sentences with him. By now you can figure out what I missed. That’s right! A father figure is what I lacked. So yes, I find a similarity where I like men who are not just big, but men with authority. That is clearly what drew me to Ben. He had this authority and ability to look at me like a stupid child with no idea of how cruel this world is, despite the fact that I am a grown ass woman who has faced more cruelty of the world that she cares to remember. He of course did not understand this. So despite him making me weak at the knees, he messed badly. He was cruel, unforgiving and definitely one who is happiest when I am sad. Let me put it this way, while my imaginary manfather will be stern and full of authority, he will love me to bits. He will spank me hard when I miss the way, but then be the one to fetch the ice to place on the swelling and be the one to carry me to the hospital and be the one to spend sleepless nights with me if I am in pain. So yes, while I loved Ben to bits because he was a man of substance, he lacked a key ingredient which is love. He loved to see me in pain as opposed to peaceful, and would go ahead to inflict me with the said pain. Looking back now, I have never been more sure that this guy has never loved me for one second. Who loves and causes pain intentionally? Who loves and does not forgive? Who loves and blames the other for their mistakes? Maybe he also lacked something in his young life and is looking for it, but clearly what he lacked and what I lacked are not complementary. That said, I do not see any problem with wanting a man with authority in my life. It would be disturbing if I had psychic cravings for a man who would inflict pain on me.

On the current happenings, my lil cousin who has been with me for a long long time and offered me a lot of support is leaving the country. All I can wish her is a life with limitless opportunities. I wish her a life so broad, every time I think of her departure I imagine her life in form of a beam of light. Where the source is small but the space it illuminates keeps getting wider and wider. Blessings girl, I am so so happy for you, but your departure adds to my sadness like a stone attached to an already overweight luggage.

See you around dears

Happy Birthday to me

Two days ago was my birthday. Frankly speaking, so much has been going on in my life and I barely had any chance to celebrate. Turning  29 for me was a bittersweet experience. I am genuinely grateful for turning that much, I mean, in the words of any wise man, how many have not lived long enough to see that age? besides that, I am blessed and have hopes to continue being blessed in big ways. On the other end though, what cant I give to have that 9 transform miraculously to 4? the number 24 didn't just come from nowhere. When I celebrated my 24th birthday, it was my final semester in campus. I was pregnant with expectations of what to find out there, and I was so sure that my first car would be a KBH. hahaaa! Yahah, I'm laughing very sarcastically at myself but sarcasm or not, what would I not have given to be that naive and be so hopeful in life? I'm still hopeful by the way. I will give up when I turn 39, hehehe. 2nd thing, when I turned 24, I was 2 weeks pregnant and did not even know it! You would wonder why I would want to be pregnant; well, for a very simple reason really, it would be Bens! You didn't see that coming, did you? did you?... ah well, I'm working on being less predictable. But it's true, I love every bit of my baby, hair to toe nail, but if I had some sort of superpowers, the first thing I would change is his dad!

Anyway, despite all this, you would think I would get some uplifiting happy birthday messages. They did come, but mostly from my facebook friends, my lovely aunt and my two young cousins. Ben totally forgot about it, but why would I blame him? my own mother and my only two brothers forgot all about it. When I reminded my mom yesterday, she actually apologized by saying that she had totally forgotten I was born. Her exact words "Woi yaye! I'm so sorry sweetheart, I totally forgot you were born. Happy birthday yesterday'! Atleast that made me laugh, bitterly so. Needless to say, 2 days later, my so called brothers still don't remember I am a year older. Neither has my one and only sweetheart. Is this relationship so pathetic? but then that would make my sister brother relationship with my bros pathetic too. Who am I kidding, it is pathetic. I have bad relationship skills and I do not know how to create a presence or to influence. Which brings me to my next question, does lack of these qualities make me a deficient person? is being an introvert such a bad thing? Should I try to change this me and be more outgoing or..? Ok I will change this me, I have decided! And my specimen is:  sweet Ben, you will not know what hit you! You will love me without wanting to! hahaaa! Yahah! by now you know the sarcastic laugh, to myself.

What made my day though is 3 great special peopl who picked their phones and called (My cousins and aunt too are very special). The first one was a great man, he only can know himself. He has been a great friend in times of need and hapiness and he has been the easiest to talk to. Thank you man, you are precious. Second to call was a great friend of mine whose work has ensured she is stationed somewhere on the Kenya Uganda boarder for the last 3 years. She is a great friend who remembers me only on my birthday, probably because hers is only a week away. Then at night, my bitcheous best friend who is like me in so many ways (why the hell do I feel the need to change? I love this gal and she is so freaking like me!). Anyway, she did call, for two reasons. 1. She is my best friend and if she dared not call, she knows I will likely commit suicide! ha! 2. She gets intimidated when I turn a year older, it just reminds her how closely next she is, and how much better it would be if she accepted it early enough. Haha!

I really do wish I was turning 24.

Sometimes we gotta ask…

After being with someone for a long time, you realize that this person has something that you really love, or knows you so well to know what it is that makes you happiest or makes you saddest, or they give you something in a way that you’ve never been given before and is unlikely that you will ever be. But while this person has the capability to make you glow, they are also the reason for your saddest and lowest moments. They know where you hurt most and they hit you hard at that spot without apology. They know your weakest point and they shamelessly exploit it without the slightest twinge of guilt. Sometimes you gotta ask: Should there be a balance to this? Need you wipe out the glow you've put on someone’s face by doing the most hurting things to them? If you truly love someone, shouldn't the glow you put on them be there most of the time and the sadness be there only in unavoidable circumstances and not intentionally? Am I wrong to say that if you love me, then you need not tell me because I feel it? Need I tell you that if one keeps asking if you love them, it’s because they don’t feel like you do anymore? Do you know that if the feeling of love is slipping away, then it becomes hard for someone to remain their natural self around you, which in turn kills normal conversation between you? Instead they are afraid of saying or doing anything wrong to draw you further apart? Need I tell you how negatively this impacts on the quality of time you spend together?

Ladies and gentlemen, I apologize for being away for long without prior warning and at the same time, I beg to be allowed some time off. I have been away and need to be away because everything I feel like talking about is centered on my emotions, and if I decide to keep you updated on that, then the only way to do it is by posting huge teardrop on this page. Granted, I feel most special when seated next to him or across him. I get lost and forget all that’s around me when in his arms. I glow and have good times when I speak to him on phone. I wish time would stand still whenever we are making love. Question is, how often do I get to do this? How much do I have to beg before any of this happens? How many missed calls do I have to make before finally one of them gets picked up? How many times do I have to be stood up on dates before finally one of them materializes? That, ladies and gentlemen, is my teardrop. I beg to be excused.

PS: I have a question I need to pose to the gentlemen who come about this page. When you date a lady, and say as you are most tempted to see everything beautiful, you see this other lady who makes you drop off lady number 1 like hot iron. A week later, you realize you have made a major mistake and want  lady number 1 back, but she’s too fine to allow your greedy ass back in her life. 2 years down the line and you are still pursuing the same lady! Can someone please explain to me the psychology behind that? We’ve already established that you do have an eye for female beauty, and 2 years you are still bothering the same girl? Someone kindly explain. When it comes to ladies, I can tell you for sure, we won’t hang around quarter that much unless of course we are suffering from crazy obsession. The only guy I followed for sometime was a certain ex, not because I was obsessed with his black ass, but because I felt so guilty, having dated him for 5 years and finally could not settle with him. So I kept following him up and apologizing. After a number of unanswered texts, I decided that I had punished myself enough for the wrong I had done, and that was it. So tell me guys, what is the fuel that drives you to such craziness?

The 2013 that was

Hello dears, I have been thinking on how to go about a goodbye 2013 and welcome 2014 and I thought of no better way than to reminisce on the greatness of 2013 and leave 2014 to have it's way. I cannot account for everything that came to pass in 2013 but my biggest blessings are as follows:

In January, I celebrated 28 years of being alive and well and capable
In Feb, I met a man of my dreams. He who has changed my life in more ways than one
In march, 3rd march to be precise, I created a day to be celebrated as an anniversary, for a lot of things which happened on the same day for the first time. I also cast my presidential vote and the guy lost
In April, I learnt new words, new songs and better ways to have my way on the internet
In may, I reclined an offer for extended contract with a 'blue chip' company
In June, I created this wonderful blog (it is to me) where I get to unload once in while. 38 posts later and no regrets.
In July, I quit my job
In August, I tried writing, tried is the word
In September, I got another job, then another
In October, I had a plan, and the plan started to take effect... I also had a nephew and very sadly, I lost my beloved uncle
In November and December, things took more momentum and blessings continued flowing. More nephews and a happier life.

I promise to document the greatest happenings for each month in 2014.

Celebrate and enjoy the year that is. Happy 2014!

Anxious

'We need to talk, we really need to talk'.

I have always wondered why men make a big deal of a small sentence like 'we need to talk'. Today I received the above words in a text, I have actually left out another we need to talk because...I can't write the three of them without bursting. I am anxious to a point of nausea, and worse is the fact that I do not even know when this talk will ever happen; given the few chances I have of meeting the said dude.

I think my main problem is not the sentence, my main problem is I can't seem to even imagine what this could be about. Initially, two conclusions lept to my mind:

1. He is breaking up with me.
2. We have contracted a deadly disease.

I disqualified the first guess within minutes. This dude has broken up with me twice, and he has never shied away from doing it over the phone. It goes like 'By the way I think we need to break up', and is shortly followed by 'I am serious'. So no, unless he wishes to look me in the eye, put his hand on my chest and continue to physically pull out my bloody heart and crush it with his shoe (think of it in a horror movie way). Surely he doesn't hate me that much. But the two last times I have said I love you, there was no response. So maybe I am not that far from the truth with this one....or am I?

The 2nd guess, he disqualified himself after I got curious and asked if anything was wrong. He said it's nothing to worry about. Ahem! I think we can all agree that a disease would surely be something to worry about, or?? yeah, a disease would be worrisome. And since he says I be easy, then it's not a disease.

By now, you all know I am a pessimist, and I have run out of negative ideas. I mean, if it was pregnancy, I would be the one who is pregnant and probably the one unleashing the 'we need to talk' line. So, I am 85% sure we are not pregnant, and even if the remaining 15% chance were to pass, I am 100% sure he would not know it before me. By now, I assume we are in the same level of bewilderment, that is if you have a heart big enough to feel the emotions of a strange amateur blogger.

When I could not handle it anymore, I called my best friend and she decided to go with optimism, that since we both know that these words are the most unlikely to come out of this guy's mouth, the we expect the most unusual information from him. So this info has to be positive (If it was negative, he would have spit it over the phone. He excites at sad or negative info. So this has to be positive for it to wait). Problem is, this lady is my best friend, I can tell you without blinking that her optimism is unrealistic. Many a times, her optimism has gone overboard until at one time she wrote it down and it included the names of her unborn children. So today I listened as her optimism for my situation slowly turned into a fairly tale fantasy, and it just hit me how much I am in worse a situation that the minute I received that text!.