The Milky One

I have always loved milk. For as long as I can remember, I have been a fan of tasty milk. Please note that I said 'tasty.' That means I was not a fan of soy milk or whatever other questionable milk they sold and still sell in stores.


I don't know what tasted better between fura de nono and peak milk. I know which one my mother was not in favor of: fura de nono. She gave me a list of diseases that I was sure to suffer if I kept on drinking fura de nono, but as a true daughter of my father (the man who sucked his own mother's breast until she died...@ about age 70), I could not be warned. As far as I was concerned, mom could have as well been talking to a rock because nothing she said could keep me away from my fura de nono!


Now that I am in the US of A, there is obviously no way for me to get fura de nono - unless I suck directly from a heifer. I love milk oh, but not enough to call a heifer my mother and suck its breast. Tufia kwa! That is an abominable act. Instead, I have channeled all my frustration to the next best thing: peak milk.

In case you're wondering why I think peak milk is the best, well, it's because it was, and still is - in my opinion anyway. The other milks like Nido, Coast, and especially Cowbell were no match for Peak. Speaking of cowbell, I suddenly remember my broke days in high school when the N10 satchet of cowbell milk was a gift of love to me. But I digress...

Back to the peak milk. I used to love all forms of peak milk when I was in Naija - powdered, evaporated, and condensed. I still love all forms, but I mostly use the powdered one. I am a cereal junkie, so sometimes, I have cereal (cold cereal, oat meal, etc... and let's not forget garri coz it counts as cereal too) for dinner. Of course, you know I love custard. I'm sure you remember my love affair with it. No matter what I choose to have, I obviously have to adorn it with peak milk...or else, it just isn't the same.


Therein lies the problem! When I wake up in the morning, I look like I'm six months pregnant, and I know it's an unnatural stomach. My stomach is not flat but I gauge it at night before going to bed. Then throughout the day, I release silent killers aka tear gas aka gases of mass destruction, better known as stinky farts everywhere I go. This isn't rocket science. It doesn't take a genius to figure out the culprit behind my plight: peak milk!


Sometimes, the farting occurs at night. Those are the worst. Oh, the horror! Sometimes, they're so loud and have so much base that I jump up from bed and shout, 'Jesus!' or 'Blood of Jesus!' But after I get a whiff of the not-so-pleasant smell, I realize that the only thing I have to fear is well - myself. When one starts getting woken up by the thunderous sound of his or her own fart, then nsobu di kwa (there is trouble o).


So how do I fix this apparent lactose intolerance? I am not ready to give up peak milk o. And neither am I willing to attend a 12-step program called Peak Milk Addicts Anonymous. But I have to fix this. What will happen when I get married? I don't want my husband going to bed in the night with a flat tummy and waking up with a tummy that has risen like agege bread because he has inhaled all my you-know-what. Something tells me my in-laws will not appreciate it either. But then again, I guess he'll like the smell. It should be part of him since we'll be one, right?


Oh, God. I cannot wait for this husband of mine. There is soooooooooo much we have to explore! So many experiments to perform. So many questions to ask...and answer.

First question: what happens to hubby's tummy in the morning if he spends all night inhaling wifey's gaseous waste?


p.s. I already drink Lactaid, but I can only use it for cold cereal (excluding garri).