His Finger Nails Are Too Short!

I will not boast of having heard it all. After all, it was just the other day that I learned of salad tossing, but that's a totally different story.  So, there I was, having a mini Girls' Night Out with a bunch of girls, and as usual, the major topic of discussion was men.  What else is there to talk about anyway?

Chika, a semi-new friend of ours randomly mentioned Nnamdi, a guy who likes her, but whom, unfortunately, she cannot date. "He's too short," she told us. Well, nothing new about that. A lot of women prefer men who are about six feet tall (or at least visibly taller than them).  Of course, it takes having a taste of both worlds (tall and short) to realize that there's something in between --- and it has nothing to do with the height.

Chika's position did not surprise us. My list does, after all, state that I want someone who is "visibly taller than me."  What did stun me however was that Chika's biggest problem was not the height of Nnamdi's body, but rather the length of his finger nails.  Yes, yes, Nnamdi is short, and yes, she does have a problem with his height, but she is more concerned about the length of his finger nails.

It turns out that a man's finger nails are directly proportional to the length of his member.  Nnamdi's finger nails aren't short because he cut them, or because he has stopped them from growing, but rather because he has one of those nails that even when cut short, they are still short - compared to other people's short nails.  

Try as I might, I could not find a picture of short nails. I'm sure it has a name. These doctors and scientists always have a way of making everything sound worse. A boil, for example, is called a furuncle. I prefer to just call it a boil. I feel a lot better that way.  But on the issue of Chika and Nnamdi, I will now go ahead and commence Operation-Test-The-Nails/Member-Theory on every man. Starting from today - especially today, I will study every man's finger nails, and soon and very soon, the truth will be told!

What say you?

The Case Of The Hairy Legs

I must have been about 13 or 14 when I first witnessed my friend, Isabella shaving her legs with a shaving stick. Prior to that, I don't think I knew that people even do stuff like that. I was a late bloomer in every sense of the word. After the first time I witnessed Isabella doing it, I witnessed her doing it a few more times. I distinctly remember she got cut by the blade at least once. Being of mixed race and very light, the spot and trickle of blood seemed to be the only thing I could notice on her leg. But when I curiously rubbed her legs, I did admire its smoothness and freshness.

But it would take me several years before I came to own a pair of hairless legs myself. It happened in America. And I, too, started with a shaving stick. But the day I cut the skin on my Achilles heel, that was the day I put an end to the hairless legs routine --- until I discovered the wonder of Nair Hair Remover. I have since moved on to Veet Hair Remover. Needless to say, I don't understand why people use blades when hair removers are 100% painless.

On that note, my mother and grandma, naturally, were not happy when they found out about my hairless-legs sacrilege. Men, according to my grandma, just love women with hairy legs. She pointed to my aunt's very yellow legs, filled with dense strands of long, black hair, saying they were beautiful, that men admired them, and that I should try to be more like her. It feels just lovely, I suppose, smoothing one's arms over a pair of legs that feel like dry grass straws. But since I am not a man, I cannot personally confirm or deny grandma's theory. 

Thankfully, however, Ray can. So come Saturday, April 17th (at 10am U.S. EST/ 3pm Nigerian time) Ray, Caramel, and JuiceeGal will tell us what kind of hair men and women should keep --- or not keep, why women shave their arm pits, and why men don't shave their legs. It should be fun.

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Men Have It Hard

On Friday, I went to my former school to print some things out.  I was about to walk into a building when I noticed an African-American girl in front of me.  She was about my age, give or take a year, and she was walking rather slowly, so I eventually walked past her.  She had on a white pair of leggings, a white shirt, and a pair of white sandals.  Her leggings weren't full in length; they stopped midway between her knees and her ankles.  Her shirt had three-quarter sleeves, stopped somewhere between her elbows and her wrists.  Her sandals were the thong kind, the kind that had the little thing between the big toe and the second toe.

She was not skinny or small in stature.  On the contrary, she was probably about my size, except, perhaps with a heavier, nicer butt.  Yes, I noticed her butt.  As a matter of fact, that's probably why I'm blogging.  With each step this girl took, I could not help but notice the decadent and rhythmic swaying of her hips, the bouncing of her butt cheeks, the thickness of her thighs, and even the way the wind blew the soft brown highlights in her hair.

And so, when I got to the building before her, I did not do what I would have, should have done.  I would have, should have opened the door, gone through, and then, courteously held the door ajar for her.  Instead, like a doorman, I opened it and waited for her to go past first.  I even said, "Go ahead."  And she did.  As she walked past me, my eyes were still fixated on her.  Facially, she was forgettable.  As I type this now, I don't remember her face anymore.  I do, however, remember her butt, her hips, her hair, the color of her skin, her sandals, and possibly, the size of her breasts.

As I walked behind her, I found myself scratching my head, mesmerized by two things:

1.  Could this be how all the gay people became gay?

2.  Why on earth did I not leave the house looking like her?! 

Now, if you'll excuse me, there is a pair of three-quarter leggings somewhere calling my name!

I Want A Fat Wife

Those are precious words that you'll probably never hear from a man's mouth.  Perhaps, this blog is as close as you'll ever come to hearing it from a man's mouth.  And I am not even a man, so go figure.

Remember back in the day when the bigger a woman was, the better looking she was considered?  Remember how that used to be the evidence of good living?  It used to be the proof that she was well taken care of by her father or husband, preferably her husband.  Remember how the women with wide hips and butts as wide as pillows held sideways used to boast of having an ikebe super?  Igbo men call such hips/butt "ukwu pathfinder [pathfinder hips]," "ukwu transformer [transformer hips]," "ukwu v-boot [v-boot hips]," "ike danger [dangerous butt] ... and the list goes on.  Well, what happened?

Did men stop wanting the pathfinder hips, hips that are sure to find the path at any given point, even without a GPS?  Did men stop wanting the transformer hips, hips that can power the electricity in an entire block (or consequently cause the electricity to fail due to too much voltage)?  Did they stop wanting the hips shaped like that v-boot Mercedes Benz?  Did they stop wanting the dangerous butts, the kind that literally cost people their lives?  Or did we, women, change?

Women everywhere seem to be in a craze for the skinny bones.  Have we [African women] become more educated about the risks and dangers of obesity?  Or have we become more westernized, looking to the likes of Beyonce and Rihanna, for our ideal image?  What is really going on?  What we used to consider voluptuous, curvy, and shapely is now plain ol' fat.  One man's fat, I realize, is another man's average and vice versa.

But you know what's interesting, while we [women] spend a lot of time making ourselves over, redefining the meaning of [black] beauty, nipping here and tucking there, the standard of beauty, it seems, has remained the same for the men: tall, dark, and handsome.

I'm sure you have plenty to say.  Thankfully, Good Naija Girl, Caramel, and I will be discussing it live on the Verastically Speakin' Talk Radio show tomorrow, Saturday, March 6th 2010.  The show will be airing at 10am U.S. Eastern time [4pm Nigerian time & 3pm U.K time].  Click here to listen.  Join the live conversation by calling 1.646.929.1905.  Send your thoughts/stories/questions via e-mail radio@verastic.com  or text 1.443.934.9039.  Follow me on Twitter for updates.

Ka chi fo [Goodnight in Igbo].

P.S. I'd like to say a big congratulations and best wishes to Onyi and Noni.  It's been a year since they started their journey.  I pray God's blessings and favor meet them both at the point of their individual and collective needs.  Amen.


P.P.S. Don't forget to vote [in the top right sidebar]!

It's Not What It Looks Like

Yes, it's not what it looks like. I can explain. I usually update my blog at about midnight (U.S. Eastern time) because then, it feels like I have updated at the beginning of the day. But it's already past 5pm right now, which means it's also past 10pm GMT and past 10pm Nigerian time. Ah... most of the day is gone already. I know it might look like I did not update this blog early enough, but it's not what it looks like; I can explain. Of course, I can.

You see...

First, I was amazed by this valley of clouds

Then I was mesmerized by this pillar of clouds...

And then ... this mountain of clouds captivated me...

Does anyone else feel like just dropping on these clouds? Sincerely, Tempur-Pedic Bed must have nothing on these clouds' comfort!! I'm now working on how to build vacation homes - or maybe just vacation spaces - on the clouds - where people can just come and well --- vacation. Any architects want to take this project up????

So yes, I was suspended several thousand feet in the air when I took this picture. My camera phone does not do it justice. The clouds, as you can imagine, look way better in person. Wish I could take a little bit back home as souvenir.

As you can clearly see, there is a perfectly legitimate explanation for why this post did not appear earlier.

I've Got Good News!

Or maybe not...

For starters, I told you about the waist vs hips phenomenom. Men prefer women whose waist is 30% smaller than their hips. Unfortunately, mine is just 23% smaller than my hips. You can read that post HERE. Secondly, I brought you news that at the age of 27, a woman's fertility begins to significantly decline. I am yet to receive thank-you e-mails for that by the way. You can read that post HERE. Lastly, I brought news from Uju, my med-student friend: she said that for each child a woman gives birth to and breast feeds for a year, she decreases her chances of breast cancer by 11.4%. You can read that post HERE.

So I spoke to Uju again, and she gave me more news. I'm starting to unappreciate her med school. According to Uju (who learned this from her Professor), the most attractive a woman would ever be is when she is the age of 22-23. Obviously, 22 is more attractive than 23. It seems like 23 was only added there to make us feel better. But for people like me that are past 23, it makes no difference.

If you are not yet 22, then lucky you!! You can look forward to being 22 and extremely attractive. For those that are already 22, make hay while the sun still shines. For those that are 23, make serious, serious, SERIOUS hay while the sun still shines (and is about to do down for good). For those that are past 23, oh well!! All we can do now is use enough foundation (popuarly known as pancake by our Nigerian men) to make ourselves look 22...or 23 at least. Some lipstick, eye pencil et al will help. Hmm, I wonder if anti-aging lotions come into play at this point, or should I wait till I age?

I don't know about you, but I'm really sick of receiving news about women from Uju. How is it that they never say anything about the men? Don't tell me they don't have some issues of their own. Seriously, all this time, I thought I was my most attractive right now. I mean, when I look back at past pictures, I think to myself, "I look wayyy better right now than I did before," so how is it now that I'm hearing my most attractive age has come and passed me by.

**SIGH**

Uju is only responsible for the news about breast feeding and the news about attractiveness, but all in favor of shutting her up, say AYE!!