Hi y’all! Betty and Marilyn here. Here’s wishing Nigeria a Happy Independence Day on behalf of the whole of TNC. E go better o! We’d also like to welcome you to the month of October which is our Women’s Month! *cue celebrations* We promise you a fabulous month. For Women. About Women. Fellows, don’t leave…
Hi y’all! Betty and Marilyn here. Here’s wishing Nigeria a Happy Independence Day on behalf of the whole of TNC. E go better o!
We’d also like to welcome you to the month of October which is our Women’s Month! *cue celebrations* We promise you a fabulous month. For Women. About Women. Fellows, don’t leave yet… surely, you love your women? We’ve got plenty goodies to bring your way this month.
Starting off the awesomeness that is TNC Women’s Month is today’s special. It’s a collaboration between Art Stories and Betty Tuesdays. Art Stories has provided the art while Betty and Marilyn have written bits of flash fiction about some parts of the woman’s anatomy that she feels less than confident about.
Love your bodies, people. Feel free in your frames. Be independent! Do enjoy!
My head turned sharply,ears rang from the peculiar sound of slapped leather, and eyes filled with tears from the sting on my right butt cheek.Somebody had slapped my buttocks! It was one of those nights that saw lovers showing off in its guise. As I walked down the hill leading to his apartment, it was easy to forget that he was beside me. No, we were not lovers… well, he was my lover but I was a piece of ass to him. Every time I showed up at his place, he would pinch at my butt cheeks and chuckle, “there’s still nothing there to hold.”It drenched my spirit but all I would do was smile and hiss playfully. He was a god and if he chose me and my bony ass, whatever his reasons, then I was going nowhere.
My tired eyes caught the culprit. He was a tall one. Bottle of beer in hand, he stared back at me, with the stance of a carefree child. Our eyes met and I saw the surprise-laced mockery. He had not expected the harsh welcome of bones that met his palm after they were enticed by the forced round hump that is my buttocks, shielded by leather shorts. It was how I coped with the lot of my behind; I adopted a posture – head high, back rod straight, consequently pushing out the buttocks. I shook my head at him, defeated that I had no reason to challenge his action. I struggled to maintain my form and continued to walk when I heard him yell out.
“Badman! Why ya walk around widdat bony ass?! She no girl!”
I froze. Was I permitting disrespect from a stranger because I was dissatisfied with a part of my body?! I grabbed the hand of my guy and marched back to the culprit who was now laughing hysterically. Suddenly, I felt an explosion in my head and my body began to vibrate. I stood at the tip of my toes and slapped him hard so that my palm stung. The smirk on his face disappeared and just before my guy pulled me away, I said, my voice shaking with anger, “F**K YOU!”
“Why would you do that?!” My guy was shaking me now. I turned to look at him and found my reflection in his eyes. There was more to me. I smiled, “Can you walk me to mine?” He raised his eyebrow.
“No, I cannot walk you to yours,” he sounded irritated, “We’re literally less than a minute from my place. Plus you have a roommate and my bed is bigger.” He drew me closer. I slapped the back of his hand that was now resting on my butt, teasing me in the usual manner.
“That’s fine. Goodnight then.” And with that, I turned to walk away, easing my usual stiff form into a more relaxed one that did well to ease the aching in my thighs from all the squats. It was alien, the relief that began to seep into me. I tapped my butt cheeks and in that moment, decided they were loveable as they are; petite, strong and mine… all mine!
“42?!” “Si.Si.” Put on your best Italian accent. Try to look genuinely confused at the alarm in his voice. “42,”affirm. “Haa! Nah mehn. That’s like a guy’s feet! Ladies should have petite feet.” Start to pull your sneaker-clad feet in- tiny by tiny inch so your recoiling is not obvious. “…small enough to fit in my hands. Dainty feet, you know? 42 sha!” Laugh along with the others in the small room. Fake-punch your friends as someone shouts out “Sasquatch!” Tell your heart to stop being ridiculous- that your affections are wasted on a man who thinks a lady should have tiny feet anyway…
Snarl at the shop assistant when she looks from your feet to the (one-of-a-kind-you-will-never-find-this-at-this-price-anywhere-else) purple brogues cradled in your hand in pity.“This is just bullshit!” Yell. “Of what good are you?!” Yell louder. Watch her face crumple like weak wax; your voice- the fire. Follow the tears with your widened eyes as they trace the black spots on the top of her cheeks. It is her first day, you learn. Dump the glorious shoes ungracefully and stumble out of the shop.
You hit your toes against the door then have your feet trod on by a fatter citizen. But do not cry out; chuck it all to karma- for making her cry. Withdraw the culprits from their leather cages. They have turned your heart black; they have made you diffident. Stare and stare. Then stare some more. Notice you have nice toe nails. Paint them in red. Shiny, bright red: like the truck your little brother had when he was five. Red: like healthy, pumping blood. Wriggle your toes. Wriggle. Wriggle.
He presses the bell. Once.Twice. Trudge over, feet bare. Open the door to the big-feet-hater that your heart has refused to hate. Feel the wind of the streets run into your house and tickle your toes. Look down at that bright red. Feel his gaze lower to them.
The red looks like freedom.
There you go. It’s over to you ladies, what are those parts of your body you feel less than confident about? The guys are not left out too, maybe you can tell us why you are sometimes so insensitive about out feelings on the subject.