the every other girl syndrome

THE EVERY OTHER GIRL SYNDROME

It happens to the all of us. You are standing at the body lotions shelf at the Supermarket. You are searching for the new rave among ladies, the wonder bath gel and lotion that will return your skin tone to its original shade which no thanks to the sun baking you and the rest of countless other people have to endure everyday while waiting for the cab ride home. Then you spot her. She stands there looking like she stepped out of Gem woman magazine. She had legs like the work of a perfectionist furniture maker, smooth and shapely …hairless too. You look at your own legs and sigh. Your brothers used to look at yours and call you ‘ECOMOG Soldier’. You’ve tried every fancy hair removing cream, they work for a while then you come back to where you started with the hair as coarse and unyielding as the one on your head.
That’s another one, your hair, your clowning glory. Its spatial distribution on your scalp is like an abandoned ewedu garden, the desired growing in the unwanted place and vise versa. Every other girl has theirs, luxurious and silky in the different glamorous hues. You’ve probably met some ladies and ask politely ‘’what’s your special hair treatment?” and they gave you the frustrating answer ‘’Nothing, Just the usual retouching and steaming’’. You’ve been doing just that for a long time so you leave them. You feel like you have some defective genes that make your hair incapable of responding to hair growth therapy. The latest thing you have resorted to doing every morning is what Pastor said you should do about every thing you want to see changed in your life; stare into your reflection in the mirror and confess while clutching small turfs of it “You this hair on my head, you are growing longer, fuller, covering every available space on my scalp.’’ The list is endless; birthmarks that you desperately wish were hidden, place themselves in public view like the gombo marks on grandma’s face, ears that stand at such a unique angle so that the only thing that works on you are the tiny gold studs, nothing to call any more attention to them, fingernails that are not long and feminine looking…………………………(deep sigh)
Its not that you hate your body, you just hate that it is not perfect, (at least not according to your judgment) and you have met ‘some other girl’ who has just the kind of body you want. You resent her, but sometimes circumstances console you and show you that there is indeed some justice in the world, ask Naomi*
Naomi*
It was one of those days a girl feels lucky, Naomi* was feeling lucky. She had come to the supermarket to pick up some house supplies when she suddenly felt eyes on her. This hunk was staring at her but that wasn’t strange, she regularly got a second and third look from men. Once, a guy rammed his car into a police road block while he ogled her. She felt genuine pity for the guy. But this one was different; he cocked a bushy eyebrow in her direction and then lips framed by carefully cultivated mustache stretched out in a slow smile. Then he started approaching the aisle she stood! She whispered a thank you God under her breath and set a demure look on her face as she picked a lone bottle before her. She stared hard at the bottle without seeing anything as he got close to where she was standing.
“Excuse me please.” A rich baritone jerked me from my trance. I looked up to smile at Mr. Hunk who smiled back at me and said politely
“Could you please excuse me? You are standing in my way”. I gasped, shocked as I moved aside .I swiveled to follow his direction that was when I saw her; a gorgeous lady who had on a most tastefully done weave on, her gold chandelier earrings sparkling through the curtain of her inviting curls. Her lithe body in a floral print dress glided up and down and between the shelves as daintily put items in her cart. I could see why I thought he was staring at me; Miss ‘Purrfect’ was standing by the shelf just above where I stood. Suddenly I felt like I was fictional Simbi, in all her rubber threaded hair glory. I lost all desire to continue the shopping, so I slowly pushed my cart petulantly towards the cash point and like magic, there they were again! Mr. Hunk was so charming while asking for her number and she batted long eyelashes at him coquettishly as she said her blackberry PIN, 63EA... I was so envious and I angrily wondered why she had to have it all, the body, the charm and the attention of the good looking guy. It was like she heard my thoughts; she smiled and flicked aside her curly hair and THAT was when it happened. A single rusty nail was sticking out beside the shelf she leaned on but it was too late to warn her. The single synthetic noodle of hair went up in the air and curled itself on the nail. She made to move and KPIM! The gorgeous weave was lifted off her head leaving a very unattractive matted head of hair. In that instant, there was silence. She got frantic as she wrestled her pretty hair from the offending nail.
But her fate was sealed. Mr. Hunk’s mouth still hung open long after his catch had scurried out of the Supermarket. My eyes brimmed with tightly restrained mirth as I edged around him to get to the cash point. The truth had been revealed, my hair might not be long but there were many girls just like me!
The dress will sometimes look prettier on the other girl (which might be you someday) but no one can tell what she’s hiding (or hopes will stay hidden while she’s in public)