Becoming A Woman

Becoming a woman means:

I don’t quit when the first wave of pain hits. Instead, I take a deep breath and soldier on through the last 10 reps of push-ups, dead lifts, crunches and/or lunges.

I don’t go on to the next chapter even though I desperately want to know when Marissa discovers that ‘darling’ Jeff did kill her husband. Instead, I close the book, turn off my night light and go to sleep coz I’ve got work in the morning.

I don’t lose it when someone is too lazy to do their work and we’re right at the deadline. Instead, I do their work, meet the deadline, go home, get some rest and plan the perfect revenge. After all, Lazybones must be taught a lesson.

I don’t eat the cake just because I want it. Instead, I eat it because it counts as a meal if I don’t eat much else with it. Plus, if I don’t eat it, someone else with a slower metabolism might and ruin their diet.

I don’t squirm or cringe when the pointy, high-heeled shoes begin to hurt. Instead, I school my face into a serene expression, curl my toes (as much as possible), walk softly and wait till the first opportunity to trash the good-for-nothing shoes.

I don’t waste a lot of time thinking of what they would think of me if I said no. Instead, I ask myself these questions: ‘Is it life or death?’, ‘Can I do it?’, ‘Do I want to do it?’, ‘Do I owe the requestor anything?’, ‘Will I gain anything?’ Then I give my answer.

I don’t indulge myself as much as I would like. Instead, I will stop writing here coz Damola said 300 words or less.  290 words.


Female. Daughter. Big Sister. Cousin. Best Friend. Little Sister. Friend. Nigerian. Electrical Engineer. Business Analyst. Chorister. Secretary. Introvert. Feeler. Mentor. Sporadic Writer. All-time Reader.

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