And after taking a break from any form of interaction on here, I can with much conviction say that I’m in a much better head space than I was a month ago, a couple of pounds heavier than I’d like to be and officially a degree holder – I’d say we need to celebrate but I’m afraid I’m back on the battlefield with these evil creatures called calories…can someone point me to where I can download a flat stomach? *YIKES*
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The thought of me growing old is coupled with strong emotional breakdowns and episodes of acute dramatization from the mere thought that one day I could wake up and find a strand of gray hair wiggling its way into the world and that scares every icy nerve on my body!
The week is nigh!
Contrary to what most people believe, mine wasn’t a story of epiphanies or self discovering journeys but instead a tale of an impulsive teenage girl searching desperately to derive meaning from a passion for fashion. With nothing but a doomed report card to show for it, it occurred to me that life was much more than double failure and two hour lectures from my dad
Valentine’s Day is a loony ideology curated by Western economies to boost their total GDP with sky rocket sales from cute fluffy teddies, overpriced dresses, streets flocked with bodabodas criss-crossing the city rushing to get the next order of basic bouquets, aged wine and chocolate gift bags delivered with the risk of being considered the biggest ‘L’ for bae of the year depending on how grande a gesture you make.
Unlike most girls around the world looking for some sort of sanity and validation from sparkles, glitter and white aesthetics – obsessing, tirelessly pinning and completely swoon over back to back dreamy scenes from The Twilight Series, I seem to have lost a part of my girly, superficial side swinging across monkey bars and chanting rebellious mouthfuls around.
Ushering in the new year meant fancy parties, overpriced sparkly dresses, overindulgence and numerous DUIs seeing as no one wanted to feel left out of the ‘fun’. That was far from my reality or at least I thought; A nice dinner with my girls, a couple more glasses of wine and off to bed I was…3 days later and here we are. Unlike most functional bloggers who had their new year posts ready and up come dawn of 1st, I was somewhere exhausted, sweaty but mostly sleepy and any effort to sleep while on the road only made me more tired than rested.
This past year has seen me pad your Snapchat feed with numerous kitchen and apron combinations with the occasional short videos of my favourite Masterchef Australia episodes that swing somewhere between gruesome rants by Pierre (and not size10) but acclaimed culinary master Marco Pierre White and yum yum desserts that would actually have you gaining a couple of pounds just by feasting over the screen; believe me I know!
A descendant. A daughter. A queen. Titles handed to you and I simply because we hail from the land of milk and honey. Of fufu and chapati. Of countryside winds and city lights. Where our melanin radiates all the light we absorb. Where passion drives ambition and opportunities are self-perpetuating. Where sparkles fly over adroit hearts and stars illuminate from typical eyes. Where craftsmen engrave legendary masterpieces to the continent’s axis and melodic beats have the rest of the world feeling extra groovy.
On some level of oomph and zest, there seems to be a crinkly jiggle to the bounce on my step that only some pre-historic myth could quite possibly some up. Pinch me if you want but let’s be honest, there’s a twinkle of magic that happens when you are completely immersed in positive energy!