The Waist vs. Hips Pheomenon

I was reading my Psyc textbook the other day, and I came across some interesting stuff. Well, it might not be interesting to you, but you know how I find everything 'interesting.'

According to my Psyc textbook, men generally prefer women whose waists are 30% smaller than their hips.

So guess what I did? Yeap, you guessed it. I got my measuring tape (which is always handy by the way), and I got to measuring.

It is with great difficulty and shame that I regret to announce the news: my waist is 7% bigger than it should be, which means that my waist is only 23% smaller. **sigh**

So I've been wondering, and pondering how to fix this new physical problem I just found out (as if I don't have enough already!) I have come up with three options:

Option 1: Decrease my waist size by 7%. This will be achieved by doing 500 sit ups in the morning, 500 sit ups during lunch, and 500 sit ups in the night. I'll even have sit ups for dessert and snacks sef. In addition to this, I will eat only fruits & veggies, drink gallons of water, and run to wherever I'm going to. After all, running will save me some gas. I will also wear an extra tight corset 24/7 amd tie my stomach with that big belt. Back in the day, the belt was known as an 'abortion belt.' Whether this belt aborted any babies or not has been a mystery 2 me. I'm hoping it didn't.

Option 2: Increase my hips size by 7%. No dietery changes will be necessary for this. I'll just continue the diet I am currently on. It is known as the eat-sleep-then-eat-again diet. So far, it has worked for me. This will explain the rapid increase in my butt and thighs. At first, I thought it had something to do with global warming and the price of gas, but apparently not.

Option 3: Scrap the whole thing. These Psychologists dunno what they're talking about! As far as I'm concerned, 23% is the new 30% anyway.

...Yeap, I'm definitely going for option 3, albeit Option 2 is embedded in it...kinda sorta (but without the increase in hips size abeg).

LOL.

Note to God: Please understand that Option 2 is only a joke! If I wake up tomorrow morning and find one inch added to my hips, we go fight ooo! Make you no carry this kin thing dey play with me. Ehen. Let no1 say I did not tell God o because He has a way of playing practical jokes on me, and they are not funny!!!

So ladies, how much smaller is your waist???

To measure your waist, use your belly button as a landmark. Put the tape on your belly button and go around your tummy.

To measure your hips, use the farthest/biggest part of your butt as a landmark. Make sure the tape is lying on the side sticking out by the side of your thigh. If you do not have a side sticking out, then sorry o. E get as e be. LOL

This Should Be About Uju, But Is It?

Friday, April 18th was Uju’s birthday. Her boyfriend got us VIP passes at Heritage Lounge in D.C. I went there with my buddy. Funmi went with Ibukun. Wait, lemme talk about my buddy for a second.

I was gonna call him Mr. Perfect Teeth because he has perfect teeth. I kid you not. He has the kind of teeth you would use in a commercial for braces. His teeth would represent the ‘after’ shot(s). His teeth will show you how good your teeth could look after using braces. The lucky guy never even wore braces! But then I decided not to call him Mr. Perfect Teeth because he is also a fine boy, so maybe I should call him Mr. Fine Boy. However, I could call him Mr. Gorgeous Smile because his smile is gorgeous. He has that Colgate smile. You know the one I’m talking about. I’m talking about that kind of smile that makes you smile when nothing is funny. You just smile because you see a smile. I could also call him Mr. Generous. Giving seems to come very easily for him. And he always does it with a smile on his face. What about Mr. Well Groomed? His hair is cut low and very neat. He has just the right amount of facial hair. Enough hair to tickle you, but not enough to prick you like little needles – not that I have experienced it. *coughs*

I can actually call him Mr. Bangin Body. Yeah, he’s got a beautiful body. His muscles are not over the top; they’re just perfect. His arms tell you he spends some time lifting things (or people), and the six quadrants on his stomach tell a story of their own. And he’s also Mr. Thoughtful. He wants what he wants, but he is not selfish. He likes what he likes, but he’ll gladly do what you like – even though he doesn’t like it. He’s Mr. Sexy. A good-smelling man is a wonderful man. A man who looks as good as he smells is a WONDERFULER man. He is Mr. Good Dresser. He always dresses the part; you don’t have to worry about him showing up wearing the wrong thing at the wrong time.

After considering the different names my buddy could bear, I finally decided on one name: Mr. Total Package. I need not explain this one. He’s got the total package.

…But uhm, this post is about Uju *rolling eyes*. Anyway, the event @ Heritage Lounge was being hosted by a Ghanaian. That has to be the only logical explanation for why they played Ghanaian music all thru. No Yahoozee, no P-Square, no Timaya. I vexed oo. (Actually, they played ‘Yahoozee’ & ‘Do Me’ once, but that was b4 we came in, so that doesn’t count!) They coulda @ least played some Makosa. To top it off, they now had a Ghanaian celebrity. We (the Naija people) had no clue who he was, but as we later found out, he was a rapper. See the way chics were running to take pictures with the dude ehn? Nawa o. Celebrity status no bad @ all sha.

Uju was drunk, or maybe just tipsy. Whatever it was, I know she was not herself. She was dancing with her eyes closed and laughing unnecessarily. Unfortunately, we didn’t take pictures. I had my camera, but everyone (except me) was too busy being naughty. When Mr. Total Package asked me what I wanted to drink, I ordered a Bone Crusher (Maybe it’s spelt ‘Krusher’). I had never heard about this drink before. I only ordered it because Uju said I should. The thing tasted like pure alcohol. I might have as well been sipping from a bottle of rubbing alcohol. I only drank about a quarter of it. Uju drank the rest (in addition to the one she had before). The chic was very happy ooo..

It wasn’t a bad event anyway. I’m hoping I don’t appear in anyone’s pictures coz you know I’m an anonymous writer, lol. After the event, Uju left with her boyfriend. Can you believe the chic put her head out of the window of the moving car and was screaming her lungs out at three in the morning? I don’t know bout you, but that definitely spells DRUNK to me. Kai, I wish I had taken pictures. Funmi & Ibukun went their way. Mr. Total Package and I went our way – to wherever hot men and anonymous writers go to.

I didn’t sleep till past 8 in the morning. You shoulda seen my face. I looked like I had been hit by a bus. A puffy face is definitely not my best look.

The Search For A Push-Up Bra

This is my second time blogging about bras. What is it with me and bras sef? The first time I blogged about bras, I was blogging about strapless bras - the day that my mother confidently asked for a sleeveless bra. What on earth is a sleeveless bra?!

Tomorrow (Friday, April 18th) is Uju's birthday. Her boyfriend suggested that we all take her out. I'm fine with this idea, of course. My only problem is that she has not given me my birthday gift yet, and I am seriously considering suing her to court. My birthday was 3 months ago, and she has been turning me up and down. You might think that she is not obligated to give me a birthday gift, but I believe otherwise. I'm pretty sure she does not want me to forcefully take it. If I do not receive my birthday gift in the nearest future, she will be sorry. She kuku knows what I am capable of.

Anyway, I went to Macy's today in search of a push-up bra. I patrolled the entire lingerie section fruitlessly. I figured I must have been looking in the wrong section, so I asked one of the staff. She pointed a different area of the lingerie section for me to check out. I looked through the place, and indeed found a lot of push-up bras, but none that came in my size. Instead, I was constantly attacked by size 32A. What the heck is that?! Is that even a size?? Seriously, should 32A cups even wear bras? Maybe that's what is stunting the growth of the breasts sef. Why on earth will someone with a 32A cup even wear a bra? You should let the breasts be free and be merry.

If you look at the picture very well, you will notice that by the left side of the bra, there is a before and after picture. The before picture is called, 'THEN' and the after picture is called 'WOW'. Well, eventually, I found a push up bra. I wore it @ Macy's, and it didn't seem bad. I came home and tried it on with the top I intend to wear on Friday, and my result was not WOW. It was more like WOW x WOW x WOW x WOW. Okay, so I guess I understand why push-up bras don't really come in my size. In other words, tooooo much breasts were flying all over the place. Alright, maybe not all over, but darn, I don't wanna mistake my own breasts for big, round yellow stress balls. I assume that the pain that stress balls go thru is way too much for my breasts to bear. I don't think any amount of anesthesia will be strong enough. I don't even wanna find out.

I took a picture of my breasts with the push-up bra and sent it to Funmi for her viewing pleasure. I am yet to get a reply. On one hand, the bad chic in me (if she is not a figment of my imagination) wants to wear the push-up bra, but on the other hand, the good girl in me (the one I know definitely exists, lol) does not want to wear it. I'm so torn and confused. I don't want a situation where I'm constantly tugging at my shirt and trying to cover up. That would be silly.

I have to confess that I do admire women who wear push-up bras. They usually look nice (not all of them, of course), but can Vera actually be woman enough to do it? I don't think so oooo. I have been known to be a chicken, and I am proud to admit that I am indeed a chicken. Wetin man [woman] go do?

Note to Uju (and all other people who owe me gifts; you know yourselves), here is a list of perfumes you should get me. You're welcome to get me more than one. And uhm, I'll prefer the gift sets ooooooo. *coughs* I went out of my way to provide the prices of the gift sets for you. You can thank me later.

1. Miracle Forever by Lancome [$55 @Macy's]

2. Romance by Ralph Lauren [$75 @ Macy's]

3. Rock n Rose by Valentino [$68 @ Macy's]

4. Pleasures by Estee Lauder [$58 @ Macy's]

5. M by Mariah Carey [$65 @ Macy's]

6. Covet by Sarah Jessica Parker [$72 @ Macy's]


p.s. These are listed in order of preference. Thank you. I'll be expecting my giftS.

I Met Mr. Kisser

Who is Mr. Kisser? Read and learn.

On Saturday, I attended a Gala/Fund Raiser hosted by the Unique Ladies of Anambra State. My mother told me about the event two months ago and told me about my mandatory attendance because she had already paid the $75 ticket fee for me, which of course was non refundable. Why did she go and pay for me? She knew that was the only way to guilt me into attending it, and she refused to let me pay for it too. I didn’t want to go. I figured it would be one of those overpriced parties where one of two things will happen:

(1) It would be a tiny hall made for 200 people, but will be filled with 500 sweating Igbo people.
(2) It would be a huge fall for 500 people, but will contain thirty overdressed, over made-up women and 5 alleged husbands who will be openly having adultery of the mind.

But to my pleasant surprise, none of the above happened. The party took place at Martins Crosswinds, an upscale banquet hall located in Greenbelt, Maryland – about an hour away from me. The decoration was perfect; the spacing was perfect too. I mean, there was actually space to dance, and while dancing, nobody’s sweat was rubbing off of me. Great!

The Unique Women are beautiful and classy – no lies. If I were in their age group, I wouldn’t mind joining them. When the fundraising began, I was impressed. People gave in thousands…and in cash ooo! One man donated $4000. Donating $4000 in this time of austerity no dey easy o. Hmmm, I want to be like him when I grow up lol. Some of the Unique Women and guests had some funny afa otutus (nicknames) like ‘seven footer nwanyi’ (seven feet tall woman) lol, ‘unique sunshine’, and ‘Marilyn Monroe’. Needless to say, Marilyn Monroe was neither White nor blonde.

Fast forward to me taking random pictures of random people. I’m fond of taking pictures of people 4 the heck of it. Sooo, Mr. Kisser happened to appear in two of my pictures. He approached me and asked who I work for. I told him I do not work for anyone. I guess my big camera was sending the wrong message. LOL. But anyways, he asked how he would get his pictures. I told him I could email the pics to him, so I gave him a piece of paper to write down his email address where he conveniently included his number.

He later pulled me aside to talk to me. You know the regular questions. What’s your name? What do you do for a living? Where do you live? Yadda, yadda, yadda. He lives in Greenbelt. I live in Baltimore. About an hour difference. He asked for my number. I gave it. We parted ways and I went back into the hall to sit down and do some people-watching. The DJ put Shina Peters’s Afro Juju, which I love! But I had no intention of getting up to dance. My friends were not there to go crazy with me.

Next thing I knew, Mr Kisser pulled me up. He danced pretty well sha, but you know I had to hold my own. So I started going down too, showing off and everything, but mehn… my feet were killing me. I was standing there on stilettos that I had been wearing for hours and it wasn’t easy, but I refused to back down.

So I went down…. oh God… my feet.
I went down again… oh God… my thighs
Oh… God…. My knees.

I tell you, every time I came up, I felt woozy. It was as if I was about to have a brain fag. I was just too tired jare. I had hardly had any sleep, and I had spent the whole day at the library. Why didn’t I just back down? I suffered through the pain, smiled a fake smile and let myself be the object of attention. If only they knew what I was going through. Just when I thought the music was ending, the DJ had to replace the song with Yinka Ayefele…another man I love. Oh DJ, but why now?!

Fast forward to the end of the party. It was raining, so I volunteered to go in the rain and bring the car around for my mom & grand mom. Mr. Kisser was nice enough to walk me to the car, and that was when it happened. As I was about to enter the car, Mr. Kisser reached in for what I thought was a hug, but next thing, I saw a pair of lips rapidly approaching mine. Ah ah! Mr. Kisser, haba! My autonomic response kicked in with immediate alacrity, and I had to either fight or flight. Seeing as I was standing on stilettos, fighting was a lot easier. So fight I did. I had to push him off. He asked, “Why? Is it because you don’t know me well?”

Errr, duh!!

Haba! Na so dem dey get babe for your village? So just because we exchanged some little information, we should start swapping spit abi? I don’t even know what kinda particles are brewing in his spit. Abeg, Mr. Kisser…carry go. That is an abormination in my land ooo. Tufia kwa! My people, no be say I dey fear oh, but I used speed to enter the car and drive off.

I’m not gonna send him his pictures yet. Why? I told him my real name, and if I send the pictures, my name will appear. I wouldn’t want him to get bored and google me and lo and behold, this website will pop up. He called me today. Red flags were flying everywhere. For starters, he was at a noisy place with his friends, and his attention was divided. That’s a big, fat X. He complimented my ebony skin. The problem is that I’m not ebony; I’m light skinned. That’s another big, fat X. He told me I’m beautiful. I said thanks about twice or thrice. He said, “That was a compliment; you didn’t say thanks.” Uh oh. Another X. I might be wrong, but Mr. Kisser strikes me as one who will demand that I walk around with a t-shirt that says, ‘Mr. Kisser is Lord’.

Meanwhile, my strapless bra gave me this yeye burn or whatever you'll call it. I tried several times to take a picture of it with my Nikon camera, but my breast refused to stop appearing in the picture, so I had to use the camera of my phone. The Nikon kept auto focusing on my breast. Naughty, naughty camera!! I scrolled in as much as I could with my camera phone and stood in front of the mirror to get the shot. You see what women have 2 suffer? Hmmm, and to think I once used to be flat chested.

Finally, if you care to see a few pictures from the Unique Women's Gala, check out http://verastic.shutterfly.com

They Want My Downfall

Who are these people? "my enemies," Busola, and Funmi.

Gala Mania: I have been practically harrassing Tayo Odukoya for the longest time because I found out that his office is close to gala. I love gala!! Every time someone is going to Naija, I make sure I ask for gala, but somehow, they come back without it. In December of last year, Uju went to Naija for Xmas, and I made sure to warn her to bring back lots and lots and lots of gala. Can you believe the gal came back with only two?? I vexed oo! I raked for her properly. In short, if not that I was being held ehn, I for panel beat her face well well. So I finally took my gala home, and you shoulda seen the speed at which I opened one of it. I took one bite and…

It is with a heavy heart and deepest sorrow that I regret to announce I have fallen out of love with gala. What the hell happened?? All it took was one bite and I wanted to spit it out. This falling out of love with gala is not natural oo, ah ah! Our relationship did not die a natural death. Someone must have played a hand in it. My enemies must be after me again. They want to see my downfall, and they have attacked me through my love for gala. How else do you explain the sudden demise of my hyperactive taste buds for gala? I have been craving this thing for years!! I finally got it and I could hardly swallow the first bite. Chei! Helplessly and hopelessly, I watched as my one and three-quarter packs of gala entered my mother’s mouth and got churned and swallowed. I never even bothered telling Uju what happened. How could I?

Message to my enemies: You may have won the battle, but the war is mine!! I will never, ever, ever stop loving buttermilk shortbread!! And I will never stop loving Eclairs candy either!!! If you don’t believe me, send me a box of each.

Busola: Make una see me see wahala oo! This so-called friend of mine (Busola) is determined to ruin my very good reputation. Can somebori tell me why my Facebook profile says I’m married to Busola? Which day did this one happen? I remember being her maid of honor (which was an honor to her, of course), but which one be marriage again? What if a potential suitor sees my profile and moves on to someone else ehn? Tufia kwa! Busola, get thee behind me! I rebuke you!

Busola edited the details on how we know each other, and then she signed into my Facebook and accepted them. So now, according to my Facebook profile, we are married. The whole thing is just funny. The other day, one of my readers sent me an email congratulating me on my wedding. He said he loved my wedding pictures. That’s great, of course. The problem is that I neither had a wedding nor do I have any wedding pictures. The reader saw pictures of Busola and her husband, and he thought I was Busola and Busola’s husband was Busola. LOL.

Only our mutual friends and acquaintances will know that the whole marriage thing is just a joke. People that know me and do not know Busola will think I am really married to a man called Busola, and they will see that picture and think the man in the picture is Busola. Of course, it goes vice versa for Busola’s profile. People that know her and do not know me will think I am the man in the picture. Which kin nonsense be this? LOL.

People will really think I’m married to one betta person not knowing it’s just one small-breasted girl in PG county of Maryland. I have told the girl to stop wearing bra, so that we can see if there is hope for her tatas to grow, but mba, she insists on stunting their growth. They have been the same size for over a decade now. Nawa o. One day now, her husband will vex and just start playing with his own breast. They’re almost the same size anyway.

LOL. I can foresee Busola calling/texting me to tell me I’m a big fool for writing about her again. But I cannot help it now. She keeps blushing every time she sees me. Her week is just not the same without me. LOL. Could this be love? Oh yeah, it’s definitely love.

Funmie: The other person that wants my downfall is Funmi. Funmi also has the password to my Facebook account. She does not have a Facebook account and has refused to get one. Why? She claims that getting a Facebook account will make her be on Facebook all the time. The reason why this is such a silly excuse is that she is already on Facebook all the time! The only difference is that she does it with my name. Imagine the konkobility! (I don’t know what konkobility means; I learnt it from a Naija movie). It is because of Funmi that I receive text messages at three in the morning from friends asking me why I am still on Facebook. Meanwhile, my laptop is off and I am deep in sleep oo! LOL. People send me emails on Facebook expecting me to respond immediately because my Facebook profile says I’m online. Meanwhile, the real culprit has her eyes glued on her laptop screen spying on people who don’t know they are being spied on. Honestly, I dunno where I get my friends from.

Speaking of spying on people, Funmi has this chic she does not like. I’ll call the chic ‘Miss A’. So what did Funmi do? She added Miss A to my list of friends, so that she can properly spy on her. So now, Funmi signs in as Vera to spy on Miss A. I have told her several times that she has a lot of time on her hands. My question is…could this be madness? Yes oooo. Na so craze people dey start. One day now, I’ll see Funmi walking naked on the street.

Update: Funmie just joined Facebook, albeit she claims she only did it to join her Naija High School group. Sure, Funmi!

I just wrote a new article. Check it out. This Marriage Thing Sef. Don't forget to leave comments oooo! I will quiz you later.

**I know this is totally unrelated, but permit me to whine about the Baltimore weather. Just two days ago, it was warm and sunny. It was 78 degrees, and I was almost getting baked, but I didn't complain ooo. Yesterday, it was cold. Today, it's even colder. To make it worse, it has been raining since morning. You know that kind of rain that won't rain heavily, yet refuses to stop falling? Yeap, that's the one. I'm ready for the flip flops, the sunglasses, and the skirts. I'm ready to - - - in fact, I dunno what I'm ready for, but I know I'm ready.