I sat on the stool in front of my full length mirror, my hand on my cheek. I stared at my face. I had just come out of the shower, I had an appointment to keep, but I sat facing the mirror and stared deep at my face, and I felt empty, I felt worthless.
I was angry, my conscience judged me, I didn’t have inner peace and I wondered for how long. How long ….how long will I continue to be this way? How long will I do this?
My memories mixed with the pain I felt made me angry.
I searched for solace…none. No one to tell my problems, no one to share my burdens with, no families, no real friends, nothing that brings me joy.
I thought to myself “Is this life?”
I smirked at my self, my inner calmness answered me “Yes! The life you choose for yourself”.
I remembered that night, 3 years ago, I went to a party and came home late, I saw my mum sitting there and waiting for me. I didn’t know what to do, to turn back or just face my mum, I was outside for almost 5mins before I decided to finally enter given that there was no where to go.
I entered, and pretending like I didn’t see my mum and went for my room.
I heard my mum shuffle on her seat “Tobi get back here!” She shouted
I jumped and reluctantly turned back and smiled, “Oh! mummy I didn’t see you”
My mum stood up swiftly and in a flash, she slapped me,
“So you still have the guts to lie to me ehn”
“Tell me, you this useless child, where have you been?!”
“And what in heaven’s name are you wearing?!” She spat at me in disgust.
I looked down and didn’t answer her. She slapped me the second time, as if she was trying to hit her questions into my ears. Before long, her inner karate and ninja self came on, the mortal combat began. I ran out of the house and I never came back…3years ago.
Beyounce’s voice singing, “I was here” interrupted my thoughts. I looked around, it was my phone ringing. I checked and it was my darling for the night, I sighed and answered the call
“Yes baby, how are you?”
“Yes, I’m fine darling”
“I’d be there in a bit”
“Yes alright, bye take care”
I hung up, and got into the business of making up.
I looked at my face again, and smiled. One word to describe me, “Beautiful”.
I was ready by 12. I picked my car key and drove out. I was somewhere around VI when a traffic light stopped me, while waiting , I turned and looked at the lady in the car on my left side.
I’d describe her as beautiful.
I looked at her again and looked at me, I imagined her life like mine. When I was 10, I realized that my beauty was my downfall. My lesson teacher put me on his laps, and began roaming his fingers into the places I now use frequently. All through this confusing, interesting yet scary experience he kept saying “You are too fine, I can’t help it” as if he was trying to give a logical explanation for his actions.
Not so long after, my uncle did the same thing, he too consoled me by saying, “You are a beautiful girl”.
Men of all ages, wanted to please me, they wanted to make me happy, wanted to be seen with me. It was like my presence around gave them an extra edge against the society.
By 15, I began to use my gift to my advantage, getting what ever I wanted. And I haven’t looked back.
I am a slave. I’ve been a slave, a slave to my beauty, a slave to my body, I’ve practically worshiped my self, my face because I know when I smile the toughest of mankind melts. My beauty is my weapon. I fit into many social circles that are not for me. Men and women worship me, my word is law.
Is the fault mine or the society that chose to just value me based on no other standard? Would it have been a lot easier, if I wasn’t cursed with this? Would I have made better choices, if I was plain?
I drove into the hotel, I had a million dollar deal to sign. As I got down, my phone beeped, a text message;
“Baby, I’m waiting for you”
I quickly brought out my make up bag and re-touched my make up. I paused for a while and looked at my self, so beautiful on the outside yet so ugly on the inside, flawless on the outside and so much flaws on the inside.
My beauty is my plague. I felt a tear drop.
Its not my fault, its my makers fault.
I clenched my fist in firm resolve,
I walked into the hotel, to see my darling for the night, Alhaji.