Reflections

1
Google Classroom Chatter: Day Three
2
Finding my silver lining in Covid-19
3
Missing you now: Ep 3 of 5
4
One good deed
5
Next
6
Seven days of selfies
7
I am not my face
8
Thanksgiving
9
It must have been love
10
The way you make me feel II

Finding my silver lining in Covid-19

Many moons ago, I decided never to diet my way to my desired figure. No Atkins, Keto, low-carbs and all the jazz. Because these are a few of my favourite eats – croissants, flan, cinnamon rolls, pancakes, cream doughnuts…

Those diets are mean and tasteless and strict and have only one cheat day (or none at all), so I have heard and read. My unique form wasn’t built for such cruelty.

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Next

The few I spied in the driver’s seat didn’t inspire much. They were Nigerian senator types with bellies almost touching the wheels. I had specifics in mind – big not bulky; lean/toned not skinny/lanky; bearded but certainly not Mai Atafo’s preference; age range 36 – 42 and definitely not the heavily- greying, grandfather–looking dude I caught staring at me one morning, and not juvenile either; presence, something that would attract and keep a woman’s curious eye; fit/fill out clothes as though they were bespoke. His colouring didn’t matter – dark, light, caramel, etc. Any would do just fine.

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Seven days of selfies

A few months ago, I ran into Moses at The Palms. By the food section in Shoprite, an unrecognisable, smallish, dark-skinned man with no hair on his scalp or face, approached me bearing a huge smile. Only someone confident of his knowledge of another could release a grin that enormous.

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I am not my face

How do you get used to something that was non – existent in your formative years? Then surfaced and took eternal residence in your life at precisely the threshold of adulthood? The older I got, the younger I looked (was that humanly possible?). Oscar Wilde needn’t have written The Portrait of Dorian Gray; I’m a breathing specimen.

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Thanksgiving

So I have this weekly post (mostly fiction, sometimes memoirs) I do every Sunday on Whatsapp to a couple of my contacts. Tomorrow makes a year of its inception. Below is a little note of appreciation I sent out this morning: Indulge me for a minute. Close your eyes. Imagine me behind a podium on a stately – looking stage, slaying with my chic evening dress and war paint on fleek. I am holding a portable- sized, silver – plated typewriter and a small, square piece of paper in my hands. The air is suffused with applause and background music as a voice – over announces my name and category. It’s obvious to all that I’m hyperventilating, and the looks of disbelief and happiness take turns flittering across my visage. Once I catch my breath (I’m on a clock now), I look down at the paper and open my mouth to speak… First, I’d like to thank God for the gift of penmanship. For my fascination with letters and words. The ability to string them together into coherent, readable blocks of text. For a seemingly endless spring of inspiration and a fertile imagination. The choice to indulge in what I love. Thank you, Lord, for the work of my hands. To my editors. Amid your own personal and professional commitments, Theo & Igho, you are both still able to fit in a sister’s work. Meeting your own time limits as well as mine. Your edits are one thing; your insights, suggestions, and questions are another. Thank you for your time and the pieces of you selflessly sprinkled all over my writings. And you, my reader, my very own oniovo!  The reason behind Sunday’s special rays. Tg, Adula, Eve, Refe, Franca, Ogaga, C.Eguaibor, P. Osazuwa… Uyi, Trish, Toby, Odo, Obehi, Ebuwa, Osas, Funmi, Jeje, Muimui, Rose, Ify… In a time- deprived society such as ours, you didn’t have to spend moments of your day of rest reading my work. I recognize that you had a choice but included us (my writings & I) anyway. Then went ahead to give feedback. In”more

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The way you make me feel II

This time, she gave him a proper appraisal, noticing the near – perfect dentition; his easy smile and dimpled cheeks; shiny, ebony complexion; shiny, shaved head. His looks in sync with the impeccable, blue tie knotted at his throat, resting on a light pink shirt. His shoes shone just as his hairless crown.

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