So, that is how, yesterday I heard a soft snore. No, I was not alone. I was at a spa and the person in the ‘room’ made from the dividing curtain next to mine had fallen asleep. Not just any sleep. This was deep sleep, the stuff of drool and dreams. Deep enough that the snores progressed from, ‘we-can-politely-ignore’ to ‘what-is-it-self?’ And as she or he snored on in blissful ignorance of my judgement, I was on the other side of the curtain, with phone balanced precariously between both hands as I typed an email while squinting to see as much of the message as I could through that hole for your face that all massage tables have.
The kind and very calming lady at the spa had asked me, in calculated soothing tones, to leave my phone behind and I had explained to her with equal calm that in order to separate me from this phone, she would have to pry it out of my cold dead fingers. You see, it was the first time I was away from my babies, YB and Shakara Couture and it was all I could do to stop myself from jumping up and running off, never to be heard from again.
But then, the masseuse started to work some magic and I don’t know how she did it *suspicious side eye* but I was soon so relaxed, I had to call her to come and collect thre phone. I was ready to give this relaxation thing a try. You know, I have never understood certain things in this life….Sushi (it is RAW people…RAW!!!), lies (why lie when you can just tell people what you think of them?), the need for the word “moist” (I….just…can’t), people who don’t like the Kardashians (just krazy!), public displays of affection and relaxing/pampering.
Now I will take my time with this PDA of a thing *tries to hide frenzied look in eye…but.just.kant*. You, person A and person B were walking together hand in hand (for this I have already judged you…I mean, who does that???? Who holds hands!?!) Then you now stop abruptly in the middle of the road, MY road and start to see how far you can get in your bid to swallow one another. I mean! You came from the same house, you will end up also, in that same house…is it not possible to wait? Why do this? Why block my way?
So, needless to say, I have never been one for PDA or really almost any expression of even the slightest fondness. I believe if you want to know I love you, the fact that I still talk to you should be enough of an indication. But apparently its not enough. Gone are the good old days when a curt nod was almost tantamount to adultery. Everybody is soo….expressive these days and so pampered. Which leads me smoothly to my final point….the spa. I do not understand it. Spa-ing, getting my hair done, pedicures, manicures…all I can think of is..so my mates are using their time to make money somewhere and I am here paying people to waste my time!?! Which is why you see me with year old pedicures and unironed clothes…I just believe these things are a luxury.
However, here I was on this spa day and I hate to say it, but after all was done, I saw the light. It all suddenly made sense to me as I stretched my limbs and didn’t hear a single crack. This sufferhead life is not okay oh! So I apologise to Iwiyisi for always screaming out “soup money for one month!” when she tells me how much it cost to get her hair done and for silently judging Soala when she goes to get a massage or Uju when she goes to get a pedicure. I never knew life could be this sweet. I am sorry please.
And I have only my rocksteady sure to thank for this Mother’s Day spa treat.
So I say all this to say, I may not like PDA or even just, you know, the ‘A’ but he’s absolutely worth it. Who else will just bear it and stifle the cringe when I use my toenail to rip through the carpet…again or when I say “Oh no! My dress will iron on my body” or when my feet are so ashy, I can start a fire with them (wink*Damola*wink). Happy Birthday Sure and thank you for letting me be me. Please help me wish my Sure the happiest birthday. Our minister of finance and foreign affairs.
You know, the other day I was sitting at the Muritala Mohammed airport and waiting for Sure with my baby in my lap and Sure had gone off to check himself in. A police officer started to march towards us with the most hostile look on his face and one arm on the butt of his gun that was hanging on his shoulder. So as I bounced baby sure on my lap, I kept my eyes trained on him but I couldn’t get up to talk to the officer, so as not to startle my baby. All of a sudden he stopped, looked up, just beyond my shoulder and said “na you get am?” and I heard sureboy respond, “na me get them” and the police officer smiled and said it was his chair but he will just leave us there *eyeroll*. But that’s my sure, always there to defend us..and always in the nick of time. Always sure.
Happy Birthday my sureboy, the mint in my pepper…na you get am…true true!
YB and EB.