Hey Guys, It’s finally here. Today we kick off our long awaited series “For Un-Coloured People” Don’t act like you weren’t anticipating it n shit, We see right through you. Ok? Anyway, welcome. The monologues you shall be reading might come across as silly (well, that’s what they are) However, in typical TSC style; Immersed in the humour might just be subtle messages and lessons.
We do hope you enjoy our ‘spoofs’
Ladies and Gentlemen, to kick things off, sharing her point of view on size of female balls…
I pat my weave lightly and adjust my skirt before I step into the open elevator. It is empty.
I adjust my shirt and skirt one more time as the doors close together and push the button for my destination.
‘Floor 45’, the automated voice responded as if to confirm my decision.
‘Damn right, it is’, I retorted.
This elevator had mirrors for walls compared to others I had been in. I stare at my reflection in the mirror and take a closer look at my makeup.
I should tell you what I’m going to do on the 45th floor but I’m certain that some of you might have guessed it from my incessant adjustments of my skirt and shirt.
You see God has blessed me in ways that many can only be envious of.
I’m a young woman in her late twenties climbing up the steps of life. (Riding the elevator now though) I just graduated from a prestigious university with my Doctorate a few months back and now I am looking to get the job that would put the finishing touch to all my hard work and success.
Wait, I have to re-apply my make up a bit. My nose seems oily. I bring out my lose powder from my purse and begin to stroke my nose and forehead lightly with my brush.
I have the smoothest brown skin that many women bleach for these days. Eggy brown, if you will. Not too black and not too fair; like a half caste but I’m a pure and proud Igbobaby gurl. Nnewi born and bred; smart and from an economically stable family.
But there’s an issue. It is better if I illustrate with instances from my daily life.
‘Ada. You should be wearing a brassiere ka o jidegiara. Ehn! Let it hold your breast and push it up’, says my mother every other Sunday on our way to church.
‘Aunty,what happened to you breast?’
‘Nothing, sweetheart. Why?’
‘They are not there’
That’s my five year old niece. As she says this, she is hitting my chest obviously oblivious of the extreme pain she is causing me.
‘So how old are you again?’
He looks down at my chest area with disappointment and laughter written all over his face.
‘You are so…Uhm…smart for your age’
That was the handsome Lawyer I had met at the bar yesterday evening after work.
‘Want to have Skype sex? I want to see that body of yours that keeps me up all night with nasty thoughts’
‘I’m sorry, sweetheart but I’m not that kind of girl’
More like my girls are not those kinds of girls. That is a guy that I really like and I hope that we can go somewhere but… Nature seems to have failed me.
The display of the elevator shows 42. I place my powder and brush back in my purse and wait for the doors to open.
‘DING!’ Out and straight to the receptionist’s desk I go.
‘Goodmorning!’ she sparked up with smiles as soon as she noticed my presence. The first button of her shirt is open showing her cleavage and bountiful bosoms that move with every movement she makes. They are like synchronized swimmers. Never out of step. When she rolled her seat to the right to check her appointment book, SWERVE! When she got up to answerthe phone, they bounced up with her and settled down with a wiggly procession while she stood, and when she sat down with a thud on her springy chair, it was like a bomb explosion in her chest. They were both ready to jump out and at the same time stay inside protected in the warmth of her lacey bra.
I couldn’t get a cleavage even if I tried to push my breast closer together with much effort.
‘Okay. You are his first appointment for today. Please, wait in his office and he will be with you soon’
‘Thank you’ I walk into the office she had pointed out and sit on the sofa that had been strategically placed close to the window so that one could admire the view of most parts of the city from it.
After waiting for a few minutes, my bladder begins to act up. I drop my purse, check my face on a small mirror that hung on the wall; and head on for the ladies.
The receptionist is talking to a man who is leaned over her desk. Obviously to get a better view of her pumpkins. Pervert! Off to the rest room I go, Unfortunately for me, I walk in on a woman who seems to be changing clothes (She had nothing on but a bra and jeans) and she lets out a short but piercing scream almost immediately after she notices my presence.
‘I’m sorry’, I reply and stretch out my hands hoping the gesture would calm her down.
She calms down and breaks into a fit of giggles.
‘I am so sorry’, she says in between giggles, obviously still shaken.
‘It is ok’, I smile, and walk towards one of the bathroom stalls, praying it unoccupied.
‘I thought you were a guy. I didn’t see your…’ She looks at my shirt.’…skirt. It was probably because of the way you styled your hair too or I am rather too jumpy’
‘It is okay. I understand. It happens to all of us’, I reply still smiling.
No, it doesn’t, I think to myself.
She calms down and gets on with her costume change.
I walk into an empty stall, pulled my… Wait, I’m not going to finish that. Fast forward twenty minutes ahead. Yes, it was a very long…pee. I drank a lot of water the night before.
My phone rings as soon as I get into the office. A mail.
The NakedConvos has put up a new post. That should keep me occupied until he shows up. I sink into the sofa and open up the page.
It is about breasts. I sigh.
The topic never ends. I’m reading and…
‘…A and B cups are jokes’
You know what?! FUCK ALL THOSE DOUBLE Ds AND THEIR CLEAVAGES! OVER AND UNDER!
I don’t care that these days men seem to be more into women with chests that look like footballs. I will find a man that loves me just the way I am.
Being ‘simple’ chested has its perks you know.
WHEN MEN TALK TO ME, THEY FOCUS ON ME AND NOT MY SOUTHERN REGIONS. THEY CARE ABOUT WHAT I HAVE UPSTAIRS AND MY PERSONALITY!
NONE OF MY LECTURERS EVER WANTED TO GET IT ON WITH ME UNLIKE THE REST OF MY GIFTED FRIENDS. SOMETIMES, THEY LOOK AT ME WITH SOME KIND OF PITY AND CARE LIKE YOU WOULD A DAUGHTER BECAUSE THEY COULD SEE HOW HARD I STUDIED IN SCHOOL. BEYOND MY LEMONS!
I DON’T HAVE TO SQUEEZE MYSELF INTO MY DRIVER’S SEAT BECAUSE MY BREASTS WHOSE SIZE VARIES WITH BRA CHOICE WOULDN’T LET ME BE. ONE CLICK, MY SEATBELT IS IN!
SEDUCING THESE POLICEMEN WITH JUST A SAD FACE CAN BE DIFFICULT SOMETIMES, BUT MY FINES ARE NOT ALWAYS SO EXPENSIVE!
I DON’T SUFFER BACK PAINS LIKE ANITA AND THE REST COMPLAIN OF OR HAVE TROUBLE SLEEPING, EXCEPT FOR THE FREQUENT LONELY NIGHTS!
ALL IN ALL BEING AN A CUP IS NOT BAD AT ALL. I ACCEPT AND LOVE ME FOR WHO I AM!
(Forgive me for ‘shouting’) Sigh…
He walks in and greets me. A few laughs and we are seated for business.
‘So have you thought about my proposal from last week? We can make magic together, Miss Ada. You are smart so you should know to trust me’
I am quiet for a while. I have to think this through for a few more seconds. His opinion is wise.
‘You know what I told myself this morning, Sir?’ I respond. ‘Fuck Double Ds. I can make magic with C cups still. The surgery is a go ahead’.
Ladies, when life hands you lemons, you throw it away and replace it with watermelons.