Originally published by me on 3/3/15.
The truth is that in 1994, when I asked for a birthday gift, you said that I didn’t have to get a gift for every birthday but that you loved me dearly. I cried blood and tears, threw my chubby self on the cement floor. Then you gave me two lovely mangoes, but you knew what I wanted- flour, sugar, milk and butter, molded into sweet perfection. I was grumpy for a day and half.
The truth is that in 1996, when I ate too much fried yams, I ended up in the operating room with appendicitis. You thought I would die but I came back home free of tummy aches for a very long time.
The truth is that in 1997, when you told me I would be spending the next 6 years of my life in boarding school, I was not shaken, neither was I afraid. Mother put up a good fight, but the professor and father in you prevailed. It turned out to be the best years of my teenage life.
The truth is that in 2010, when you called me and said that you finally found Mr Right, I was elated. You waited so long to settle and when you did, you quickly conceived and bore a son. Then your mama died, your son died, and Mr Right died and left you with a deadly disease all in the same year. Effing Mr Right!