When You Became A Woman
It was not when you wore that skimpy dress you saw in the magazine and men leered at you lasciviously with hungry eyes and others whistled incessantly. It was not when you bought those high heels that you could barely walk with but you had to wear them because a boy you were dating said he liked women who wore short skirts and high heels. All the same he was not impressed when you showed up with your wobbly feet and sweaty armpits and three days later he left you for a girl who only wore flats.
It was not when people told you, you were eating a little too much and you started realizing that the zip on your favorite dress was having difficulty zipping up so you went out and bought weight losing DVDs. You would wake up early, push the sitting room tables to the side and begin your work out but the regime didn’t last a week. You bought sport shoes and joined these health fanatics on the track and you would come home and eat nothing but salads and honestly you were tired of eating like a ruminant so you stopped after the third day.
It was not when you kissed that devastatingly handsome boy. The estate golden boy. Who you thought would never give you a minute of his time but somehow you ended up in the backseat of his dads Toyota just when the hour hand struck 7pm and it became routine never mind he never asked you out on a proper date just kissing, a boob grab here, dry humping there and a little over the jeans action under the moon in his dads car.
It was not when some backyard salonist dipped your hair into chemicals to dye it because you were trying a new look and it hurt like hell. Or when you got those braids and you felt like your entire head was being smashed in by the hulk. Not even that fancy hairstyle that made you sleep in one position made you a woman, no.
You became a woman when you realized you deserved a man who treats you right not the douche-bags who only call when they want to get under your skirt. You became all woman. When you accepted your flaws. When you realized you will always have a little fat under your arms, and a little protrusion under your stomach and a few stretchmarks on your derriere and wide hips because after all you’re an African woman and a beautiful one at that. You became all woman when you got comfortable in your own skin.