I have always been a social misfit. I’m not joking. I don’t mean that in a I cannot relate with people kind of way. What this means is that I don’t always seem to fit in whatever society I find myself in. I just don’t fit. Back in my high school days, I wrote an article titled, “real social fitness” that got published in the school magazine. Maybe it was my way of exonerating myself from the “social misfit” cloud that hung over me.
When all my friends were dating and sharing gifts with their boyfriends, I was busy writing poems for them. Who does that? The one time I tried to fit in by partying in my first year at the university, it was so weird. I could feel my salamanda shoes and skimpy skirt begging me to stop. That same year, I met Jesus or rather, Jesus met me. That changed my life completely and my inability to conform intensified. From being the girl with neither swag nor stylish shoes in secondary, to being the girl with no boyfriend in high school, I became an official “church girl”
These days, I no longer meet people in school but on social media. I have discovered that I still do not fit! I have accepted my fate. I will never be a modern “geh”. Here is why:
I need my man
Mr N is not permitted to die. Who is going to pay the bills, fix things around the house or service the cars? I hardly know how those things happen. I am not some Miss Independent who can do it all on her own and needs no man. I am not one who refuses to take her husband’s last name because I want to be viewed as a stong self-sufficient woman. I need my man.
My place is in the kitchen
While my mates are busy chanting, “a woman’s place is not in the kitchen” I am spending/enjoying most of my life in the kitchen. You see why I say I don’t fit? I am not team #wifenotcook. I am team #feedhusbandtillhecanttakeitanymore.
I don’t have Kim K’s body
And I’m not obsessed with having that kind of body either. My backyard is nothing to write to Ntamassen about. I do not have a killer flat tummy. My belly is something far, far away from flat. Thank God for big blouses, which I use to cover the multitude of sins. Ha.
I am not widely travelled
These days I see modern “gehs’ on social media visiting all sorts of places: Bangladesh, Thailand, the Bahamas, Cuba, Dubai, even Ukraine. For me, it’s by the special grace of God that I entered America. And even in this America I almost still live like the contri geh that I am. No sipping pina coladas on the beach with a Prada purse and lamboutine shoes. Is it lamboutine or louboutine?
I have never worn human hair
And I don’t intend to buy any human parts called hair to add to my head. The thought alone scares me. But let me tell you the truth, the prices scare me more. All that money for hair???
I do not dress to kill
On most days, I dress to cover the body. I hardly know what the reigning fashion outfit is. You can still find me wearing things that were en vogue in the early 2000s. In fact, a woman saw me the other day in a store and said my shirt reminded her of something she used to wear in the 90s. And I honestly thought I was being stylish. Chai, I have suffered.
My selfies are not perfect
My selfie game is so not-on-point. I often try to take as many as I can then I give up because for some reason, the camera in my hand cannot produce the picture in my heart. Why?