I started the day : A strong, independent, Nigerian woman —– having cake for breakfast. And I didn’t even bake it myself. My friend was baking a cake for someone’s birthday, and it’s a silent unspoken rule between us, that when she’d “level” the cake, I would have some of that.
As you well know, it’s not even close to healthy for breakfast, or any meal, but I was too lazy to make anything else. However, after a few mouthfuls of cake, I got introspective. Like, soul-out-of-body-look-at-your-life kinda introspective. And I’m thinking,
what am I doing? I’m totally going to feel awful after eating this. Bloated too.
The first book of hers I read was the “Kitchen God’s Wife. I was in secondary school then, and read anything I could lay my hands on (but made sure the x-rated ones were behind closed doors… Sorry, Mom).
It was the second cycle of the semester as 4th year students (*dances because I’m getting closer to the end*), and it was to be “Phthisiopulmonology”, which is a fancy word for “Study of Tuberculosis”.
We had been warned that the teacher was racist and mean, and truth be told, I didn’t warm up to her the first day. Come Monday morning, she came into class smiling and welcoming, so I relaxed.. See, she isn’t so bad…