Lessons for my daughters

Hello people!

Hope y’all are doing great. I’m doing ok… I don’t think I have a lot to complain about, apart from the usual work stuff. I keep reminding myself that it could be worse. I’m not in Sambisa, I don’t have Ebola and one of the people I owe money just died so I should count my blessings abi?

I’m kidding… I’m still going to have to pay his next of kin  ( ._.)

 The only thing I’m sad about is the fact that today marks the end of my “bloggering” career as we know it. One of my colleagues now knows I have a blog so I can’t say much about work anymore. I can’t even say much about myself too. Until yesterday, all my colleagues and a lot of my new friends didn’t know about this blog. This was where I could come and talk to you guys about almost anything and now it has been ruined.

I’m probably over reacting, I know, but just to be on the safe side, I’ve deleted a few work related posts. I just have a nasty feeling that this will come back to bite me in the ass one day… and I don’t even know if I can still say ass and stuff, or if I have to be using terms like “buttocks” or “male and female reproductive organs” or “battery powered pleasure-inducing cylindrical vibrating device”…

Let’s not get carried away though… this is not what I wanted to talk to you guys about. I’m here today to talk about my daughters. Calm down, I don’t have them yet. I don’t have any kids at all, but I refer to my future kids a lot and I think about them a lot. Sometimes, I wonder the kind of mother I will be, especially to my girls. Will I be strict? Will I spoil my kids? Will I beat the hell out of them? I don’t know… all I know is that they will be well taken care of and they will get teased in school for having different daddys ( ._.)

Anyway, the reason I worry about my daughters is because sometimes, I feel like I coulda turned out better if I had a erm… different upbringing. Maybe not better as an individual, but certainly wiser. I’ve said it before that my parents were very strict and they instilled so much fear in us that I didn’t have a chance to spoil till very late. In fact, if not for Biology 101, I woulda continued to believe that a girl could get pregnant from standing too close to a guy if he sneezed.

I didn’t have my first real badd girlfriend till late in my twenties. Up until then, most of my normal girlfriends hid their bad sides… but this one? She could put Rihanna to shame! She had a string of boyfriends, she dated married men openly, she drank constantly and she smoked anything that she could ignite… if it could catch fire, she would roll it and light that bitch up. I was always afraid to spray perfumes and insect repellents around her for fear they would explode! How I didn’t get lung cancer from all the smoke is still a miracle till today…

But, even with our clear differences, we stayed friends. She was proud to take me everywhere with her. If she had a date, I was the third wheel; the guy of the day would be driving, she would be riding shot-gun and I was usually the one in the back seat, singing along to whatever was playing on the radio.

Through her, I met all sorts of people, from the stinking rich to the ones who needed to save half their salary for a few months to be able to afford the kinds of places she liked to go. Also, I learned A LOT. I learned the kind of stuff that mothers don’t teach. Things that every girl has to either learn on her own or stay clueless forever. In essence, being friends with her actually changed my life.

Am I wise now? I wouldn’t say so… by the time I went through her School of Ho’ism, I was already kinda set in my ways so there wasn’t much I could change, but it definitely wasn’t a total waste. I decided to talk about this today because I just heard that one of her flammable friends, also a Rihanna prototype, is getting married soon. I’m not surprised because she’s a beautiful young girl, but once again, it has made me think about my daughters.

On one hand, there’s a part of me that says I won’t allow my girls use make-up until they turn 34 years old, all their skirts will be ankle length and their blouses will have turtles necks and shoulder pads… but on the other hand, I don’t want them to grow up not-so-wise like their mama. Lord knows I don’t plan on encouraging them to be ho’s… don’t get me wrong. But shouldn’t they be allowed to take some preliminary courses in a renowned School of Ho’ism, even if for a year or two?

They may come out a little scarred, but they will be wise in their ways and in the ways of the world. They will be equipped to handle men and will develop those nasal photon accelerators that can smell a guy’s bad intentions from miles away

*sigh* I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it…

My country people, take care.