Sunday, November 22, 2009
WAEC days
I remember those days during waec when we had to stay for extension classes( things we do for education). Nyways I remember this particular day wen i had to stay after school for physics class. I was rily annoyed cos i hated physics nd I was very hungry. The class started bt the worms in my tummy wudnt let me be, they were busy singing national anthem so I drank some water (poor man style). Later on our physics teacher tld us to go for ``break`` and i quickly rushed to the nearest ``Mr Biggs`` and got some fried rice unfortunately i cudnt eat it cos i was jst in tym for ``break over``. As i walked in everyone turned to look at me and then i discovered that they were actually lukin at my "versace", I immediately made a mental note (become stingy) and i sat down( mind u my food was still with me trust now I doesnt joke wif her food). As much as i tried to continue my work I cudnt cos the aroma of the food was too tempting and so i took a spoon. I swear down Mr biggs rice had neva tasted so wonderful that i took another and then it turned to several spoonfuls. As i was wacking my food our teacher turned back and he suddenly smiled and said "pls cover ur food, I cant take it anymore", everyone burst out laughing even Biola pitied the man. When the man turned back to continue copying his note everyone became Biola's friend all dem "FFO's. It was like i was some rooster being surrounded by hens. Our teacher turned to see wat d cause of commotion was and when he discovered the drama that was goin on he said, I quote: "CLASS DISMISSED!!". As soon as he said that almost everyone in class surrounded me and out of my kind heart i pitied them and gave them the rice . Bt trust Biola now she had her back up plan, her second round was in her bag (LOL). I left class and i went to complete my "DELICIOUS EXPERIENCE" nd trust me it was wonderful.
VERTICALLY CHALLENGED
Wn you’re 10, there’s always some fantastic fantasy that you nurture. You want to be a rock-star or an astronaut or you want to time travel. My fantasy? To be over five feet tall. No jokes. I’m 17 and the fantasy hasn’t faded. At 4’10”, (i think :P nd yh you read that right) I’m only just learning to love my ‘petite-ness’.
Trust me, being a woman of small stature is not the ideal situation. I know the best things, like expensive diamonds, come in tiny boxes not gigantic cartons. That doesn’t mean I haven’t had my share of wishing I was a gigantic carton. Or, at least a normal-sized one.
Picture me. This shy 13-year-old in a new school. I’m filled with nervousness. The first words I hear, “Are you in the right class? The fifth standard is on the third floor.”
Embarrassing? Yes. Needless to say we didn’t become fast friends. Cut to four years later, and simple things like shopping can become quite tedious. “I’m sorry but this is the smallest size we have. Perhaps, we can alter it for you?” “Madame, the kid’s section is that way.”
“We don’t make adult shoes in that size. I’m sorry”
Yeah, I’ve heard these lines so often I can actually pre-empt the conversation based on the expression of the salesperson. I’ve even mastered the art of self-deprecating humour on being short. But don’t get me wrong, it’s not all a tragedy. In fact, being ‘vertically handicapped’, as I fondly put it, has its perks.
For example, people automatically assume that because you’re tiny, you’re incapable of lifting heavy, or even light, stuff. You never ever have to carry a shopping bag; somebody will predictably volunteer and really, who are we to diss chivalry?
My greatest fear is not being able to get my enormous-seriously, enormous suitcases-off the baggage carousel at airports. It’s an irrational fear. For, that never happens. There’s always a gallant young man or old man or even muscular woman who’s willing to help a poor little girl such as myself. Sometimes, they’ll even wheel your luggage to the car and help you load it. It’s a free porter service and you don’t even have to ask for it PLUS MOST OF D TIME WE GET OUR STUFF ON SALE CO NT MANY PPL ARE PART OF THE ``RARE BREED`` HEHE :p
And heels. Oh, how I love to hear my ``BEANSTALK`` friends complain about being limited to flats because they don’t want to tower over their boyfriends (*COUGH* COUGH* FORMER ROOMIE). Me? I can wear any kind of heel I like, even the six-inch variety, and still be perfectly within the non-intimidating height range that won’t dent any male ego.
See, the divine revelation I’ve had is the realisation that being short is not a bad thing in any way. It’s actually a fabulous thing. I mean, who wants to be average?
There are over six billion people on earth, all fighting to stand out, to make their mark. I, for one, am waving my unique height like a banner of individuality.
:D
YOU KNOW WAT THEY SAY; ``BIG THINGS COME IN SMALL PACKAGES`` ND TRUST ME I`M A PACKAGE WIV BIG THINGS HEHE. :P <3>
Trust me, being a woman of small stature is not the ideal situation. I know the best things, like expensive diamonds, come in tiny boxes not gigantic cartons. That doesn’t mean I haven’t had my share of wishing I was a gigantic carton. Or, at least a normal-sized one.
Picture me. This shy 13-year-old in a new school. I’m filled with nervousness. The first words I hear, “Are you in the right class? The fifth standard is on the third floor.”
Embarrassing? Yes. Needless to say we didn’t become fast friends. Cut to four years later, and simple things like shopping can become quite tedious. “I’m sorry but this is the smallest size we have. Perhaps, we can alter it for you?” “Madame, the kid’s section is that way.”
“We don’t make adult shoes in that size. I’m sorry”
Yeah, I’ve heard these lines so often I can actually pre-empt the conversation based on the expression of the salesperson. I’ve even mastered the art of self-deprecating humour on being short. But don’t get me wrong, it’s not all a tragedy. In fact, being ‘vertically handicapped’, as I fondly put it, has its perks.
For example, people automatically assume that because you’re tiny, you’re incapable of lifting heavy, or even light, stuff. You never ever have to carry a shopping bag; somebody will predictably volunteer and really, who are we to diss chivalry?
My greatest fear is not being able to get my enormous-seriously, enormous suitcases-off the baggage carousel at airports. It’s an irrational fear. For, that never happens. There’s always a gallant young man or old man or even muscular woman who’s willing to help a poor little girl such as myself. Sometimes, they’ll even wheel your luggage to the car and help you load it. It’s a free porter service and you don’t even have to ask for it PLUS MOST OF D TIME WE GET OUR STUFF ON SALE CO NT MANY PPL ARE PART OF THE ``RARE BREED`` HEHE :p
And heels. Oh, how I love to hear my ``BEANSTALK`` friends complain about being limited to flats because they don’t want to tower over their boyfriends (*COUGH* COUGH* FORMER ROOMIE). Me? I can wear any kind of heel I like, even the six-inch variety, and still be perfectly within the non-intimidating height range that won’t dent any male ego.
See, the divine revelation I’ve had is the realisation that being short is not a bad thing in any way. It’s actually a fabulous thing. I mean, who wants to be average?
There are over six billion people on earth, all fighting to stand out, to make their mark. I, for one, am waving my unique height like a banner of individuality.
:D
YOU KNOW WAT THEY SAY; ``BIG THINGS COME IN SMALL PACKAGES`` ND TRUST ME I`M A PACKAGE WIV BIG THINGS HEHE. :P <3>
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)