I used to complain about how i don’t know where my anger went, its back and did i ever miss it! Its like an ball of hot fury in my chest that helps motivate me, its my own kick in the balls, its my fuck dese bitches and here’s how, it’s my swag, its a cool calculating clear seeing shield and filter, its my i’m gonna get it done, no matter what, its my i don’t take shit from noone..its my action, doing, moving emotion.
I’m tired of people and thier bullshit. I get it done 
just a quick rant. I have to have this one female lover of mine who was skinner than me, i’m not even on the larger scale of FAT, I’m a size 20, back then used to be an 18, closer to 17 actually, anyways this woman was NEVER more than a 16 in her late thirties and ALWAYs claimed FATness, yes she wasn’t skinny, true she wasn’t a size 8, 10, or even a 12 but there is no dount whatsoever in my mind that she was a size 18 MAX, not that i’m the fat police BUT that was the skinniest i’d EVER be, i mean i did come down to a 14 but that was facilitared by a bunch of fucked up choices…
I just think its funny in this times of postmodern socalled radical feminist performance cos none of it is more than that, from where i’m sitting…that people are desperate to seek out anbd claim ”oppression “ or victimhood. In her case it is partucularly mindfuckling because she spoke a game about personal responsibility and accountability while utilizing and exploitating her priviledge position amongets other les privileged folk than her to encourage them to realize thier agency and realize thier full potential, be her, act her, believe her, do her…if u dont understand me. Its ok, just a nte on the contradictory predatory behaviour of some sadly older supposed radical feminists i know, from a bitter disullusioned once- minion and pedetalizer…who was really only seeking mentorship, support and guuidance…sucjh is life in queer community. I trust that i will continue to dream.
If this post make ABSOLUTELY no sense to you, its cool, i’m more trying to make a note to myself
So in case it hasn’t of course occured to you yet, that is of course assuming you are indeed a frequent/regular enough reader to know what the fuck i’m talking bout in any case..i’m Fat, a fattie, overweight with the largest thick est est thunder thights and flabby arms..i mean ima decent size 22…seemingly gone down 2 whole dress seixes to a size 20 since last winter which is rather SHOCKIng…I want to be clear, i’m not in denial, i have internalized fatphobia that means at times i look at my legs, glorous thunder thighs they are are observe the numerous florishing pimpleification caused by the presence of what is known as/ referred to mostly as cellulite and become filled with trepidation fear of being reffered to as a fat dimpled COw…and my excitement, joy and general feeling of enthusiasm for the upcoming/ prepared for adventure, outingm gathering, event whatever starts to resemble something of a horrific nightmare constructed the oyibo wu agbara fucking geniuses of domination…all of a sudden i’m in the matrix deperately needing to recall all the self loving feminist affirming big woman appreciating words that oft flow from the lips of my lovers a recent one told me…i don’t like nothing small …that brought/still brngs a smile to my face everytime i think of him
In anycase, i was/have been very very uber conscious of my diet most of this summer, exercising, walkinging eating veggies, salads no beers and steak dinner, now i work in a feminist womens institution and most of the women are on a diet! serious ones, people on pills, dust, patches, meal delivery, everything you can think of and i find myself reacting VERY negatively and in resistance to this general aura of fat detestation, feminine desperation and adoration of the skinny girls in the office who appear to be effortlessly skinny eating still only half thier lunch for the whole day, drinking only water never juice or pop, never ever eating the cake at a bithday/celebration…i was so pissed we bought this really expensice DELICIOUs glutun, sugar, flour everything free and that wasted it..nibbling never actualling swallowing the damned thing and being so “full”
In reaction, i’ve been a LOT more that iusually do, drinking waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay more juice/pop than i usually do, i desist from those things because of the hgh sugar, i’m trying not to be a sugar/crack addict…anywaysI’ve been eating breakfast snacks constantly eating and its got to stop, I’m not going to change my diet in response to other people, but i feel strongly compelled, i will never be a skinny bitch EVER.
i denounce all things that are involved in the cultural epistomelogy of self dug grave that is the miserable, insecure skinny bitch
Today is one of those days when ALL i want is the company of a familiar person, while i do my dishes, moan and groan about how difficult my life is…someone who can cook, offer me some care that is kind, loving and geniume..i miss my dear friend today.
So i’m walking in my neighbourhood, which appears to be experiencing an influx of black and non caucasian folks..i’ve been seeing and encountering a lot of friendly, mature seeming, and open to engagement/small talk people which has exited me to no end..or maybe i’m just hanging out more in my neighbourhood…either way..today i’m stepping out of second cup with my latte in hand, thinking its going to be a good day, passport here..i’m for sure reaching naija and overall feeling very content with my breakfast in hand when a guy from sierra leone, beautiful man, flashes me this grilled smile!…
Called me as soon as i step into the office and says he’ll call right after five! I’m excited… Oh AND then on my way to work i discover a Beautiful earthenware pot…
Here’s to making space in my life to be pleasantly surprised by unexpected encounters :)
I’m going home! I’m going to Nigeria..its official, its offical, god i’m been filled with the indescribable sense of joy that flows from my centre.nothing can distrupt it, its the settling feeling that my life is worth living. Its been over a decade since i stepped foot on my motherland.
The best part every dime is MINE
So two days ago my phone died, the thing just kpeme, nothing short of a sacrifice of $200 would bring it back to life. You see, I’ve been committed to using a phone with a qwerty keyboard, i’m an admitted textaholic, i go text you before i call you, i go call you once i talk finish, i dey text my mama on the regular for Naija and my papa self dey send me blessings and prayers for text. I need my doddammed phone. To make matters worse, my home phone was FUCKEd up because i been dey call naija, fucking west of Canada everywhere on my home phone and racked up a SENSELESS bill.
No home phone, no internet, what i need is my phone.
Anyways i go to the bell store – Now out of all the mobility providers here in Canada, i’ve been with bell, its like a marriage, we curese, fight, separate, go to collections and back but i always return to bell. My loyalty was solidified with bell because when Virgin mobile, T mobile, Rogers(dem laugh me for there), Solo, Telus and even sprint back when i was homeless, didn’t have a permanent address and no real documented income…I called bell one day, from Robarts library at UofT, i got this east African, very likely young Somalian woman on the phone who gave me a plan, a one year plan at that, and put a spending cap on it..SIMPLE! that enabled to take calls, take temp jobs as they came up and reduced the feeling say i dey suffer for this here Cana..so i stayed with bell. Have stayed with them no matter what.
Yesterday though was my last straw, first of all, thunder fire that pot bellied middle aged crisising old queen ass Italian mutherfucker who look my phone finish talk say sorry I can’t help you! Bell plan no cover water damage But it was my charger that was damaged (another reason not to have people over to your mutherfucking house who do shit without looking/checking to see what damage they are causing)
Imagine me O! No phone, I was supposed to call my supervise and koola some long story, no go!, number i forget, address for meeting wey i don late for…dey notes for my phone, numbers my phone, EVERYTHING my phone.
Yesterday i called them and gave them a piece of my mind…shout but this time i was serious, they said..ok take the sumsung acer, i’m like fuck that if you EVER catch me near a Samsung again shoot me. Either nokia or LG, nothing else. LG get water problem Nokia ‘s are the best except they are so fucking ugly!
All to say guess who has free text messaging, browsing, call display etc for under 50, that right!. The lesson here? Boundaries..they work!
On another note, its been two days of freedom from calls, texting, wanting someone to call, alarm with the phone, i’m TOOOO dependent on the phone, i get phantom rings!!!!
this is a long overdue update on the igbo lesbian fantasy…that was rekindled here
Anyways i went from being ecstatic to being very very weary of this woman because she wasn’t saying she was bi, she was saying she was questioning and dating men, probably wanted to get married to one and there i was in full fledged fantasy land…not long after wondering what if? we could be a couple?
I mostly remain indiffrent and committed to us being/remaining simply friends, wa hang out whatever..simple right? and then one night we both REAL twisted as in i think a drank a whole bottle of brandy and had like a hideous amounts of tequila shots, next thing you know shes dancing and writhing and gyrating and rubbing, caressing ALL over me?????
Now normally it’d be time for a good old fashion, pump those break and slow your roll good old fashioned lesbian processing conversation but mty judgement was SEVERELY impaired and i was curious…
So we fuck. twice at night and once in the morning.
Then i left and went home. One week later after i’d called her later that day she calss me and wants to hang out i get us tickets for a show and later on she tells me that she just wants to be “friends” and all these other things that i do not recall at the moment and so i say to her ok thats cool but i’m confused about why you decide now, you could have spared me the bullshit before you got into my pants but its cool…i shoulds known better and stayed the FUCK away from a straight girl and by this i do not mean the biphobic sentiment that women who fuck men cannot have a relationship with women instead i mean those women who are literally just experimenting and are too unethical to tell you beforehand and so they circumvent all conversation where you might fucking find out that they have no real intentions/inclinations/preparedness to live a queer life instead you physically embody thier rebellion against thier boyfriend or are a manifiestation of thier desire to prove to themselves that they are eccentric, behemian and far from ordinary.
In reality however, that are far more committted deep down to thier desires and intentions of living a TRULY heteronormative existence with a middleaged husband behind a picket fence in a sburb or a box in the sky condo, they want the benefits of being a part of queer community, having queer friends without taking ANY of the risks, challenges that those of us who have painstakingly risked our family, home and EVER belonging to come out not as a grand gesture but because we needed the loving support of our family and most cherished as we liveed our queer lives..
I’ve known three of these women in my like so far, I’m happy to say that i’m over it, I dont care if you are from my local government area, from my maternal or paternal village, i dont care anymore, unless you ass can demonstrate a commitment to living a truly queer life, i’m not talking white people’s definition of a lesbian with birkenstocks and patchouli, i’m talking unless you’ve demonstrated a desire to live queerness, to appreciate from within, to live your life to reflect this inner desire as opposed to an exotification of the other..STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!!!
I’m realizing that part of the things that makes it iompossible for most of the naija girls i’ve met to commit to a queer life is deep internalized homophobia, the belief that we don’t exist, that we are unnatural, that we can never take each other seriously, well i exist and i’ve met several others and i have xample from when i be small pikin so clearly thats a myth. I’m committed to living my life the way my heart requires in order to be happy.
It is the other side of this internalized homophobia that makes me so very fucking desperate when it comes to igbo girls that at the slightest sign of queerness, i’m down…thats the same shit that got me into all my past fucked up relationships from exhusbands to exfucking friends…so I’m burying it.
From mow on, i’ll be checking myself, slow and steady, untill i see what i want, no leaps, no faith. There is no scarcity. We abound. That storyline is DEAD
Life is good, really I can’t complain too too much, things are going a lot/little/just better than i thought but i want them Better Bettarer and better beta bettarest J
Right before i graduated, when i’m stressed out..its seems i get these dreams, something is chasing me dreams. Women who run with the wolves had a description of this..i need to go back and see what she says about the dark stranger or maybe its Bessie head and Gayle jones playing with my head (both have these haunting masculine characters that remind me of all the things that i love to hate in men and will often choose/gravitate to, which i need to continue to choose to walk AWAY from in all human beings, men women, trans, gender queer freaks alike )…..Don’t want such characteristics in anyone near me period. No excuses.
Davis in Eva’s man by Gayle Jones reminds me so very much of Peter, fuck you like a whore peter, Peter the hustla.. , in some cases reminds me of all of my lovers in that weird i got you kind of way, i wonder what is it that makes possession so hot/sexy/irresistible to mE? I have a deep deep craving to be owned, used, possessed and utilized so thoroughly that when i think of it, i get moist, and fearful at the same time, most of my lovers have a clear way of owning me, either sexually, emotionally or someother way which is why i’ve been playing what i call S/M in my head and what others. My partners call freaky shit..good sex or she’ll let you do anything kind of play.
Its hard negotiating boundaries, my safety and keeping a scene in the bedroom, the backlash outside of a scene, besides my partners are not thinking of it as a SCENE persay instead they think of it as part of my personality and how i like to be treated in general which is FAR from the truth so i end up looking like a psycho unstable bitch who one minute likes to be flung around and the next is demanding that patriarchs get up and fucking pay their pussy bill or fucking do the god damned dishes…
I do get a little ‘testy’ cos i’m weary/hypersentitive to what a man who is uncritical of his position and power as a patriarch or in fact a self admitted, patriarch thinks when he’s “fucking you like a whore” you aint no longer like a ‘whore’…you don become akunna for im eye be dat….
I’m that bitch that swallows, i’m that bitch who takes it whenever however..all you got to do is bring it..one of my lovers called me EVERREADY. In one way i’m really proud of myself for crafting a sexuality that is truly queer no matter who the fuck i’m with, if i’m going to fuck you better be bending over backwards and forwards…i have to be excited and i’ve come to know what it takes, what it tastes like and what it feels like….
On the other hand i’m constantly afraid and expecting the punishment of a woman who is in control of her own sexuality and her body…I hope to get to a place where i stop wondering/fearing/worrying about all this shit which is all connected to do i ever want to be in a monogamous economically strategic arrangement EVER…for now i’ve decided the answer is NO. License to ‘mis’behave..YES.
Back to the scary masculine figure…Yesterday night i had a dream. It felt slightly lucid which worries me because i sort of belief in spirits and supernatural forces. So i’m in my bed, my room looks exactly the way it does as i fall asleep and a man appears in front of my door (when i picture my perfect man, physically speaking but nothing else speaking as in the perfect man that will fuck me up good, destroy my life kind of thing, an abusive motherfucker that i will either end up killing and going to jail or will have to do some drama to get away from). Maybe its from watching/witnessing my parents relationship but i have always assumed that i would always have one of those deadly but passionate up and down type relationships..at my mid twenties age, i’m happy to announce that i’m definitely getting over that whole desperate loving, hateful not really about loving another person/loving yourself type deal…i’m actually thinking/craving stability a slower, always burning interest and love and compatibility, in fact its a huge turn on.
But more importantantly i’m like i’m gotta plan to be happy and to be happy and secure being BY MYSELF. And even the act of dreaming/planning makes me super duper happ(ier)ish
So back to the dream..So he walks into the apartment, without getting up from lying down, i get up and go to the dootr to try and keep him out, he puts his hand in through the chain lock and unhinges the door and walks in..no fuss, no real struggle, hes very confident that he STRONGER than me and me struggle/resistance of anykind are a)expected, nothing surprises him and b)he is unthreatened..
He walks in, smug and says to me, i’m the man who has come to fuck you, with this wicked grin on his face, i say NO. I try to wake up and CAN’T. Usually if i want to wake up i can. And he moves to the living room, the kitchen to eat my food, he’s looking in the living room and i look with him and there are two boys less than 10, older than 5 and they’re sitting in front of a big screen tv watching tv..they’ve got their food in bowls in front of the tele, he says hello boys…I think Oh No not my sons, and i’m like SONS?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
So i get up from the bed, grab me keys to luck the doors and my cell phone..my thoughts are: i’ll call 911 and if anything happens at least they’ll hear it all, secondly i’ll lock the door and stand outside the door so that i can keep an eye out for the boys, the whole time the man is undisturbed (I know he can hear my thoughts as i can hear his..i can hear him, going you can try but you’ll find out for yourself that there is no point in struggling with me, i’m not going to bother, you’ll see for yourself, i’m just going to make it easier for you to submit when your ready by acting like i’m being nice to the boys, you’ll see you’ll really like it) All this, this thoughts are slowing me down and i struggling to pick up mu coat, pick up my keys, my phone and make it from the room to the door without breaking into a run or causing my boys to panic.
I get to the door close the door, that was a struggle, i used my mind to hinge the doors so that the door would like bu then as i locked the door, the lock wouldn’t work..as in my key was not locking the door, i’d twist the key, it would lock and then i’d check and it would be open. To my HORROR. I kept trying and trying and trying to lock the door and i was in tears..then i held the door shut with my hand and all the while he was walking slowly to the door, i knew he was going to get to the door, open it and pull me back in, he was telling me too…So i started calling 911, 911 wasn’t working..my phone wouldn’t even work, it was fully charged too..911 wouldn’t dial…
Just as he got to the door, my friend called and i woke up.
Not sure what to make off the dream, except that i will find a way to lock that door and stop him from coming in and i’m not leaving no motherfucker with my sons!!!!
Maybe it has something to do with my desire to uproots and lock out certain patriarchal manifestations of masculinity from my life and to make sure that this is not a legacy that i pass on to any offspring that i have…My life will be my revenge, not in a fucked, my children will be my revenge way… which sadly is way too common in the women that i know, this legacy…
