So, you have a face rougher than the Benin-Ore Road.
Dotted by more black spots than a spoilt mango. The
pimples on your face overlapping themselves
because there's no more space on your face for a new
one to grow on, so a new pimple grows on an existing
pimple. You have a dark brown skin and a dark lip
too.
But you are using a big phone, and a good camera
can do no wrong. You have a camera that straightens
all the crooked places. The type of camera that could
transform Shatta Wale into Justin Bieber. You have
mastered the art of filtering so much that you could
even paint your lips into pink. The kind of filter that
transforms you into an inter-racial pretty thing. Blue
eyes, pink lips, light skin...Heck! You even have curly
hair now. Complete with the snapchat flower around
your head.
Some "haters" and "enemies of progress" and agents
from hell come to say you use too much make-up. To
prove then wrong, you upload a no-makeup picture...
Taken with your powerful 32 megapixels camera. The
kind of camera that makes all things beautiful. Just
to prove that you look good without makeup too.
You post your selfies on Facebook and you have
everyone drooling at how amazing you look. You get
compliments about how God took his time to mould
you as a model and then put you in a show glass to
show off to the angels. Even the likes on your post
validates their claims of how much of a heavenly
thing you are. The real slay Queen.
Many guys hustle and bustle and justle for your
attention. But nah, they aren't your standard. They
are either ugly or broke or dumb or everything put
together. However, you meet one who is fine and
intelligent and a bit rich. You both start getting
along. Feelings develop. You like him and he likes
you too. He asks for a meeting. You take a moment to
scrutinise him and then after a while you decide that
he matches your - online - standards. You agree to
meet him. On a date. He's paying of course.
This fine young man innocently asks for a meeting
because he thinks he's going to meet the rich man's
version of Jenifer Lopez. The personified version of
Jollof rice and dodo. The real beauty Queen. The
blood daughter of Fadalurd himself.
But he comes on the date and meets you. With your
overriped pimples and the premature ones jostling
for space on your face. Even the 4-inch deep makeup
couldn't hide it all. He looks at you and for a moment
he is too utterly shocked to believe it's you. You just
sit there looking like a poor man's version of Chinwe
Owoh. He pretends to be OK and at a point he even
compliments your looks. You blush. You get back
home and you don't get a text from him. After
sometime you realize he's changed towards you. He
no longer cares, he no longer calls and he no longer
text back.
And you are here crying that you want someone who
will love you for who you are. Sister, I ask you this
morning- Who are you?

She is something that looks like a human being!

DAYDREAMER