I dont do fashion anymore. I have never been one to wear the latest clothes or do the latest hair. As long as I look good, and my hubby likes the way I look.... wetin consign me?
Infact I remember when I was single, my friends would often be the ones to pick my colours for me.. ( did I also mention that I match colours like someone who might have been colour blind in a previous life?)
Like, really what's wrong with shocking red on green? shioo.. na u know! Miss Fashionista.
But, like all other women out there, I tend to sometimes bow to the pressures to be
One of such times was when I decided to fix my nails for my upcoming graduation ceremony. Before then I had been eyeing people with acrylic nails and wondering how I would look with such boootiful nails.
And with a grad ceremony, What better time than to have long, colourful nails to use to hold your degree scroll as you pose for pictures??
So, thats how they fixed nails for Bimbylads o.
See me, I was feeling soo chic... I fluttered my nails at every passing person.
In the middle of a meeting at work, I will suddenly lift my hand, and begin to scratch my eye with my nails until someone will be forced to comment.
I had never felt so wonderfully feminine.
But, I noticed that I could not wash ordinary pant.
To wash plates, I will have to use my knuckles as if I am grinding pepper on the floor.
To type at work nko? Na to use elbow o. But I could not complain o.
Complain ke?? My £30 pound- chinesefixed- imported from abroad-acrylic-nails? Lai Lai!!!
And I continued like that, until one day, at work, my oga gave me some docs to type. He also gave me a time limit: One hour.
I knew that elbow typing would not help me here, so I decided to use my "precious" nails to type. And type I did.
Jam, Jam, Jam, my nails would hit the keyboard, and I could almost hear the keyboard cursing me for stabbing at it like that.
After like five minutes of typing, I was getting used to the flow, when all of a sudden, I heard a scrunch sound, like the sound of plastic snapping.
I looked at my keyboard, and lo and behold, My precious nail had broken into two equal bits. There was an angry red line across the front of my index finger.
The pain was............unbelievable.
I shouted : "YEEEEEEEE!!" internally, as the pain exploded behind my skull and travelled all over my body. And you know say, Oyinbo will just call 911 if I misbehave in front of them, so the YEEE was internal, but I managed to mutter,"Owww...nail hurtss", when my colleagues stared at me with concern.
For the rest of the day, I used one finger to type. Of course, the document did not meet the target.
When I got home that night, the pain had multiplied by a million.
Mama Bimby was around from Nigeria. She had warned me not fix my nails for the graduation, but I had been adamant,saying that everyone was doing it.
So when she asked me why I was squeezing my face in pain, I dared not say why.
To make it worse, that night, Mamabimby slept next to me.
I was writhing in pain (again, internally), unable to sleep.
Mamabimby would eye me and ask: 'Why are u looking like you are crying inside? sleep now?'
And I would grunt in response.
Eventually, unable to take the excruciating pain ( It was a dull, thundering ache on my index finger that hurt like a bad toothache), I lifted my index finger up in the sky, as if I had been dancing yahoozee and someone pressed pause, and slept like that. It was the only position that offered me comfort.
Needless to say, Mama Bimby laughed her head off, when she woke up at night to piss, and saw her wonderful daughter sleeping with one hand pointed to the sky.
The doctor said I damaged a nerve.
And so, I say again. I don't do fashion.
Who ever wants to bite me... better start sharpening your teeth.
What's your fake nail story?
see u next week for Adunni/ Babatunde story!
on 25.3.10 © BiMbyLaDs**