IN HER EXPERTISE BY ETOH COLLINS

Hi all,

I know it's been ages but I have been super busy! Oh well, I shan't bore you with details because today I've got a nice story from the write - Mr. Etoh. So enjoy, share and please comment. Thank you:)

IN HER EXPERTISE

“The very reason I stopped, later became the sole reason why I decided to push, and I mean ensure that I got to the bottom of the whole thing. It was taking over me; I couldn’t think straight anymore, and one time I almost burnt down my apartment after I left an empty pot on the gas cooker for more than an hour.”

I stopped to look at Ms. Funmi; she didn’t seem like she had taken her gaze off me.

“Yes…yes go on, I’m with you” she said without me even asking her anything.

I really wasn’t used to telling people my worries or problems, I just felt they would only end up laughing at me in their judgmental minds, and worse still I wouldn’t get any close to getting back my lost life. But something about Ms. Funmi seemed different, she said little or nothing, and she smiled at almost everything I tell her, and then she would say “it is well”, well I just hope she isn’t as insane as I thought I was.

All the same, everyone had wanted me to speak to someone, someone who would advice me on my current dilapidated state of well being. And after months of refusing, and after my wife left home citing marriage breakdown as her reasons, it became pertinent that I solve this problem that I probably think has left me looking cancerous to others.

“At work I couldn’t do little tasks like write memos or draft a course of action, something I originally had been doing for over three years.” I had continued after she gave me the go ahead, “I started to get angry at every slight thing that wasn’t even supposed to make me blink, and I think what I noticed was that I started to get irritated easily by anyone who ventured to ask about my well being.

“Ok, let me cut you there” she interrupted for the first time since we started conversing for more than three hours now.

“I need you to tell me how it all started, this whole change, like can you remember?” she had stopped talking before I knew it, and I had forgotten what she talked about.

I motioned to her, trying to understand if she had asked me a question.

“Gbenga!!!” she shouted straight into my face.

“Yes” I replied looking away from her.

“I really do not want to assume you’re sick or suffering from something only God knows. I decided to help you because I believe everyone’s got a second chance at bettering their lives, so I urge you to come out of your shelf so we both can help you out of this mess.” Then she stopped talking, and bent her head so that it rested on her right fist.

The room was quiet for about twenty seconds, I didn’t know what to say, I had gotten used to her starting off a point, my own was to give a reply to her questions, and ensure I followed exactly her procedures. She then she got up from her chair, went behind me, placed her hands on my shoulders and so fast she started to caress them, soon to my back and then down my hips. After about a minute of intense massaging and body touching, she bent that her mouth was directly proportional with my ears, and then she whispered “let me help you relax…..ok?”

I had no idea if she expected an answer from me, or if she needed a thumbs up in respect of her question, I was indifferent, especially when I actually didn’t major in psychology, so I really didn’t think she expected me to have any clue as to how she would make me relax.

“Ride on Miss Psychologist” was all I could say deep down in my heart.

“So tell me about your sex life, were you having enough of it?” as she spoke her hands found their way into my shirt.

“I really can’t say, but my wife wasn’t exactly the kind that loved frequent sex, she preferred it occasionally and well prepared kind of sex” I could swear I knew nothing of what I had just said, Miss Funmi hands were causing so much havoc in my mind.

“Ok” that sounded like she was dozing off.

I never cared to turn to look at her, all I was sure was that she was the professional here, and for me, getting back my life was most fundamental at the moment, and not how she got to the end.

“And were you against having routine sex or should I say were you the everyday sex kind of guy”

“Yes and No…emm…sometimes I come home so tired and wouldn’t venture into sex. But other times I really would be a hundred percent ready for it.” And again I didn’t know how that came out of my mouth.

Miss Funmi had her hands already caressing the part of my trousers where the zips were tailored to. At first it was great and I felt the moon on my ears with the clouds giving me the soothing of a lifetime. Miss Funmi’s touches were unconditionally eccentric, and I started to float as soon as possible, and my lips became so dry so that I began searching for something wet to infuse into it.

Everything happened so fast and I didn’t know how to tell her that this was exactly my problem. That I was HIV positive and the knowledge of my predicament had made me a ghost of myself, because as it is, I was simply awaiting death and a very cruel one indeed. But only if my psychologist would have been so professional enough to have understood that I needed help from my imminent destruction, instead of becoming trapped in it. We had a very hot and long romantic evening that lasted for about four hours, and everytime my realities came flashing its ugly head at me, Ms. Funmi would kiss my lips and say to me “put that behind you, lay all your worries on me.”

And yes indeed, I did lay all my worries in and on her, the bad thing was that it never left me, but I succeeded in passing it to yet another person.

As we lay on the bed after a breath taking performance, she started to say how much she had enjoyed every piece of me, and how she wished we never stopped. I looked at her with pity, funny enough she thought my eyes were so sexy, and every time she would kiss them, and say that my eyes were capable of making her happy for life, only if she knew the truth that lay beneath it. I was seconds away from trying to live my life at least for another week, but Ms. Funmi the psychologist had come along, and taken me back to where I was a week before I was introduced to her. What kind of psychologist was she anyway? Instead of helping me, she has eaten a great chunk of my worries.

How will I break this news to her, how on earth will I say to her that I am HIV positive, and that was the reason why I have been living like a country plagued with famine and war. All because of pleasure, and my love for ecstatic feelings, I have plunged yet another soul into total catastrophe, and I know she will live never to forgive me. And although I think and feel pity for her, Funmi still finds my manhood so attractive that she cannot stop putting it inside her mouth like she was promised gold in the Olympics for it. The same object that has caused me an avalanche of pains is what Funmi treasures and wishes she had it in her bedroom, to play with every night she gets home from work.

I regret meeting Funmi today, just the same way I have regretted meeting every woman that I eventually slept with, because up till date I really do not know who had given me this Greek gift. I want to think about my life, and I wish Funmi will let go of it before it kills her in my presence.

                                                    xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 Have a happy weekend!

IG: @ugochiukah ; twitter @ vivio_gogo 

HAPPY EASTER

Hello Hi,

Happy Easter Monday! I hope you had a wonderful Lenten season and Easter break.My last article on Bellanaija is here.

Photo source: www.50img.com

For Christians, Easter is one of the most important celebrations in the church. This is because we are reminded of how we became saved by the Grace of God through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. The 40 day period preceding this event is a time to reflect on the suffering and death of Jesus Christ and to become closer to him. Many Christians especially Catholics try to fast or at least abstain from certain things; one of the key messages is to give up something loved to share in the suffering as well as to do good unto others. This year Easter came quite early, in March, because many times in the past, it fell in April. I know it has fallen on my birthday before, in 2011. Anyway, I just thought to share a reflection of my Easter season:

For me, Lent this year was one of the most serious one for me. I tried new prayers, new habits, tried to give up old habits that were not the best (including coffee, lol). In retrospect, I do not remember attending any stations of the cross this year L…I’m sure they had some at my church but maybe I was busy working. However, I felt really grown this season, both physically and spiritually by His grace. Physically, I felt more mature because I did not try to sit down during the long ‘Passion of Christ’ reading read on Palm Sunday and on Good Friday! Usually, halfway, I would sit or kneel or squat or keep flipping through the pages…..because that reading is very long, from the trial of Jesus to his death and burial. But this year, I was calm and I even enjoyed the reading.

Holy Thursday or Maundy Thursday was an interesting day as the washing of feet of his disciples emulated by the priest is always humbling. I believe that the message here is that for you to be a leader or master, you must learn to serve. I have been blessed to have my feet washed previous a couple of years ago and  this year, the priest said that we should learn to was the feet of our partners, family, loved ones and even enemies!

Good Friday service was another good one for me. It was as sullen as usual, without the sign of the cross or sign of peace. The veneration of the cross always reminds me of the crucifixion of Jesus. If you’re a germaphobic like one of my siblings, you will find it hard to kiss or even touch the cross. I remember my mum had to send my brother one year to go back to kiss the cross as he had just gone to the front and turned around without doing anything, hee hee. During the reading, I was reminded of and medidated on the last words of Jesus on the cross:

"Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do." Luke 23:34…this was when the soldier and some others were mocking Him on the cross.

"Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise." Luke 23:43…He said this to this thief who believed that asked to be remembered in His paradise.

"Jesus said to his mother: "Woman, this is your son." Then he said to the disciple: "This is your mother." John 19:26-27… This was when He handed his mother to John for care. 

"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" Matthew 27:46 and Mark 15:34…I can’t even begin to imagine the pain He must have felt.

"I thirst." Gospel of John 19:28…this was to fulfil the scripture of giving Him wine to drink.

"It is finished.” Gospel of John 19:29-30…I believe his work on earth as a being was finished.

"Father, into your hands I commend my spirit." Gospel of Luke 23:46…unto God, we should commit all things.

After the service, everyone was asked to leave the church quietly as usual and Saturday was a quiet day.

Easter Sunday came yesterday and once again, we could sing Alleluia and dance and make the sign and kiss of peace. I always love Easter Sunday as I fell liberated after all the quiet lent season. The mass was beautiful with singing and to add to it, I ate jellof rice yesterday (although it was Ghanaian jellof..ha ha!)

So this is a summary of my celebration. In as much as the Lent season is over, I hope that we continue with whatever good work that we started and stick to better behaviours. I wish you a continuous wonderful Easter celebration and a blessed April.

PS: Does anyone know the origin of Easter bunnies and eggs and most importantly, what rabbits have to do with eggs?? I’m just curious. Please share if you do, thanks.

Twitter @vivio_gogo

IG: @ugochiukah

THE LAST CONFESSION

Hello hi,

It’s been a while; very busy year already but I trust you have been good. I thought I would share a story with you before the month of February ends (I cannot believe how quickly the year is going!). My last Bellanaija post can be found here and today my writing is titled:

THE LAST CONFESSION

picture source:www.calledtocommunion.com

It was the season of lent, a period of solemnity for Catholics. Adaobi was a staunch catholic or at least she came from such a family. Therefore, for her, this was a time to be in a ‘state of grace’ and holiness. Although she was a regular church-goer, she felt guilty for not going for confessions for over a year. The problem was not that she could not find the time to pour out her sins or a priest to absolve her from them but she did not feel comfortable revealing some of her deepest secrets to the parish priest, Father Joseph. Father Joseph was a nice and humble priest but he knew her family and thought the best of them. He also thought of Adaobi as a responsible, charitable, young woman with a strong faith in the Lord. It was his high regard for her that had made him entrust her with more responsibilities in the church including leading the Sunday morning mass readings, Bible studies on Wednesdays and counting the offering money from the congregation. She was also a member of other renowned church groups as well as the choir even though her voice was quite below mediocre. Father Joseph always sang her praises to his parishioners and even referred other young women to Adaobi whenever they seemed to be going astray from the Lord.

While one could have thought that these actions would have made Adaobi feel more at home in the parish, they almost had the opposite effect on her. She found herself pretending when she did not want to, attending church service where she was barely paying attention and receiving Holy Communion even when she did not feel worthy to do so. She only hoped that the Lord would understand and not punish her too hard for her actions. She desperately longed for a confession as she had been carrying some heavy sins in her heart for over a year but could not bring herself to tell the parish priest. It was not that she thought her sins were unforgivable but she felt that her reputation was at stake in the church. Yes, she knew that priests were not allowed to judge people making confessions or even tell another person about them but she still felt that he would not see her in the same way if he knew what she was capable of. And so she had made up her mind to never confess to Father Joseph unless she was about to die and he was the only available priest.

The week before Easter came and her prayers seemed to be answered. Father Joseph had travelled to attend to some urgent family matters and a priest from a different church was in charge of Mass that day. There had been other guest priests visiting her church parish in the past but Father Joseph had also been present always and so would still be the one doing the confessions. This day was different as he was away and this new priest, who looked quite old, announced at the end of the church service that he would wait behind for anyone who wanted to confess. He was a funny, elderly man who claimed that he was partially deaf and so would not even hear most of the confessors, which was a good incentive for them to come forward. Adaobi decided to take this long awaited opportunity and sat behind in church after the service was over.

She was the first on the queue but she decided that she would go last because she had a lot to say and assumed that the new priest would give her a long list of things to do as penance for her sins. She remembered long ago when she had heard about some priests asking people to cut grasses or do hard labour as an act of penance. She did not mind and was willing to do anything to atone for her sins. Her only prayer was that the priest would not ask her for details of anything that she was going to tell him. Her turn quickly came and she went into the confession room.

“Bless me Father for I have sinned” she started while he began his prayer.

 “It is now 18 months since my last confession.” She paused, waiting for a reaction but got none and so she continued.

“Since my last confession, I have not been very trusting in the Lord. I have told several lies and I have been disobedient to my parents.” She had decided to start with the lesser sins.

“I have also fornicated, not once, or twice or thrice. Actually, I have fornicated a lot especially last year with my boyfriend.” She took a deep breath before she concluded her confession.

“For these sins I have confessed and the ones that I have not (she whispered) and the ones I cannot remember, I am truly sorry.”

 “Are you still together? You and your boyfriend” The priest asked.

“No, we have broken up now.” Adaobi replied, hoping that he would ask her no more about the topic.

“It is good that you have ended your ungodly relationship and returned to God. The good Lord has forgiven you so try not to enter such relationships again in the future.” He said.

The priest then gave her some short prayers for her penance to her surprise and then she was asked to say an act of contrition which she did. Afterwards, he prayed for her sins to be absolved and permitted her to go.

Just as she was about to leave, she added in a low voice “Oh, I also had to abort his baby which I was carrying after we broke up.” She paused and she heard the priest grunt although he did not say anything. She took his silence as a permission for her to continue.

“I also stole some money from the church offering to carry out the abortion.” The priest was silent.

“I am very sorry for that too.” She said.

He remained silent.

She hoped that he was not annoyed with her for almost starting a new confession after finishing one. After a few minutes of silence, she assumed that his partial deafness had returned and he probably had not heard her. So she repeated the latter sins a bit louder but there was still no response. It was then that she looked closer at him and noticed that he was no longer breathing. The new priest had died during her confession! Adaobi was confused; she ran out into the church but no other person was left there since she had been the last one to go in for confession. She did not want to be caught in the middle of a scene in the church and so she ran away. On her way home, she wondered if her sins had given the priest a heart attack and killed him but most importantly, she wondered if all her previous sins had been forgiven because she knew that she would never confess those ones again.

Thank you for reading and as usual, please leave your comments below and kindly share with friends. Have a blessed week and follow me on: 

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HAPPY NEW YEAR

Hello Hi,

Happy new year to you all. 2015 was a blessed year and I pray that 2016 will be greater. I am thankful to God, my family and you all for contributing in making an awesome one.

No matter what you went through in 2015, there are many reasons to be thankful and happy because:

For every rice without meat that you ate, some had no food at all

For the Christmas new dress that you could not get, some are naked

For the relationship breakups, some are dying in marriages

For the weight gain you hate; some are looking for flesh

For the horrible singing voices, some are dumb

For the eye glasses you have to wear; some have no sight

For every failed hot selfie, some have no cameras

For every hairline-loss gelled in front; some are completely bald

For every rejection, some could not even apply

For every argument, some only speak to themselves

And for those that have an annoying family member, well family is everything so deal with it!

So my prayer for you this year is:

May your tears be turned into smiles,

Smiles be turned into laughter,

Heartbreak turned into strength,

Dreams into reality,

And Hope into certainty.

So please continue to follow my stories, comment, share and have a happy life this year filled with love and great opportunities. Thank you again and happy weekend!

Twitter: vivio_gogo

IG: ugochiukah

A CHRISTMAS TALE

Hello hi,

Merry Christmas to you all. I hope you are having a lovely weekend; my previous bella naija post is here. As, the year is drawing to an end, I wish you all a joyful vacation and peace. I have a new post for you today, so enjoy and please leave your comments below. Thank you!

A CHRISTMAS TALE

Going for vigil mass yesterday and singing “O come all ye faithful” along with the choir made me realize how much I had grown over the years and how Christmas celebration had changed for me. After mass, I began to reminisce about how I used to spend Christmas when I was younger. Back then, we would go to our home town (village) for about two weeks. We did not have a choice as my father always threatened to lock up ‘his’ house and take the key. So grudgingly, my siblings and I would pack our bags for the trip. Our reluctance to travel was not because we did not like the village but because we did not see the point of leaving our lives and friends and going away for so long to see people that we barely knew. The more we tried to explain our reasoning, the more my father resisted. To him, that was even a better reason to go – so that we would get to know our long-lost relatives even more! And so every year, we had the same arguments and ended up travelling to the village.

The first day of arrival usually involved having visitors, coming around to welcome you back home. They basically asked all of us the same questions in our local language – how are you? How have you been? How is your family (which they could already see by themselves)? How are your brothers? How are your sisters? (As if these were not part of the term ‘family’); to which we always replied “good, thank you.” The next day would involve cleaning up the house and cooking as well as more visitors; some of whom had already visited the day before. Of course, they would resume the usual questions while we struggled to get some work done. By Christmas day, we would be tired from all the cooking, cleaning and guest entertainment such that my siblings and I would fall asleep in church. Sometimes, we would sneak to my grand-uncle’s house which was a few blocks away from the church to take a nap and return back to the church before my parents noticed. Thankfully, the Christmas service was always very long because of annual church harvest and so we always made it back on time. After church, we would even so many visitors follow us back home directly and so, we used to spend our time serving meals whilst my father would tell his friends how happy we were to be back home. And we, the children, always had to smile and nod when he made such statements to the guests.

On Boxing Day was when we were allowed to go out. My father would wake us up early in the morning to have breakfast and go out to greet our relatives and practically, the entire village. His exact words would be “go out and do not come back until evening. Visit everyone and feel free to pluck fruits. Everybody here shares…there’s no place like home!” Ironically, we were almost never allowed to go out for more than a couple of hours in the city so my siblings and I wished that we had such freedom in the city. We had to obey orders as once again my father would threaten to lock the village house if we did not leave immediately after meals. And so we were forced to go and watched the inter-villages soccer competitions, masquerade performances and some traditional dance. We stopped occasionally at trusted relatives’ houses for lunch, dinner or some snacks along the way but when it came to fruits, any tree of interest that we saw, we would ask for permission from whomever was present in the compound and then pluck some to eat.  

It was during one of these fruit picking that we came across a nice Udara (Agbalumo) tree one year. My cousins and I had wandered into a compound that housed the tree, so rich with ripened fruits. We were surprised at our luck at finding such a fortune as more often than not, this particular tree type would be lacking its fruits because the other villagers would have plucked them before we got there. We did not hesitate to ask the boy standing by the gate if we could have some and began to help ourselves immediately after he said yes. It was on our way out, chatting excitedly, our hands and pockets filled with the fruit, that we that we heard a woman’s voice screaming. We turned around to find an old woman running after us and asking us to stop. My first instinct was to run but I held back as I knew my cousins would not. The woman came to us and started talking so fast in Ibo that I could barely understand what she was saying. One of my cousins, Ezi, whispered to me; basically, the woman was saying that she wanted her fruit back. We were surprised as we had never been asked to return any food before but sadly and slowly we emptied our hands and pockets. She also inspected us to be sure that we had dropped all of them before she let us go.

All our initial excitement was turned into disappointment and we recounted our experience to one of our uncles. We described where her compound was and he laughed and told us that she never allowed anyone take anything from her house and that she did not have any friends. It was then that we understood why her tree was still filled up with fruits; we thought about how stingy she was! Just before we went back to bed, Ezi took me aside and showed me an udara fruit.

“Where did you get it from?!” I almost screamed.

“Shh! From that woman’s tree. I hid it”

“Where? But she searched us…”

“Do you want or not?!” Ezi snapped impatiently.

I did not have time to think; I quickly agreed and I must say that was the best tasting udara I have ever had in my life. I was thankful to Ezi for our escapade and we vowed to keep our secret for the rest of our stay in the village.

So it was adventures like this and many others that usually made my travel memorable as well the huge collection of interesting novels in my uncle’s library including ‘the pacesetters’. Now I am grown, I miss such adventures and the other incentives I used to receive during this festive period such as new Christmas clothes, shoes and even new hair! So as I sat in church this year, while I was thankful for the year so far, and also for the years gone by, I secretly wished that I was wearing a new Christmas dress with new matching shoes.

*udara - chrysophyllum albidum

Thank you for reading and following my blog and bella naija stories all year. Have a happy Christmas holiday and catch lots of fun. Best wishes always!

Twitter: vivio_gogo

IG: ugochiukah

BIRTHDAY JOLLY BY ETOH CHINEMERE

Hello Hi,

Xmas is coming and I can only help but think about how fast the year has gone by. I hope your year went as good as you hoped for and even better!

My last bellanaija article can be found here. Today, I am posting a feature from My. Etoh, a talented writer (happy belated birthday by the way :) ). So please, as usual, enjoy and share with your friends and feel free to leave your comments below in the comment sections.

BIRTHDAY JOLLY

All my life, I have always looked for a time and an age where I would invite my friends over for a chill out or for a party. All my birthdays starts and ends with wishes, and wishes, and more wishes, and worse case scenarios, members of my family forget I was even celebrating. It’s been this way so much that I now considered it a ‘culture’, my way of life, until my last birthday.

I had hopped on an okada* with my weight pressing hard on the seat as I landed my buttocks against the wet chair. I knew I couldn’t get any wetter than I already was, and even though I knew I couldn’t hide from the rain, I was sure to make the okada man pay for my sins. So I shrugged behind him and made sure no part of me was seen by this bad-belle rain.

Sometimes I wondered how these okada-men drove in the rain, I wondered how they saw the road, and worse still, they also drive in same conditions at night. I knew it was extremely dangerous, at least the risk of slipping and landing inside a ditch was high; but for once I had never cared. I had been riding on this means of transportation all my life, it somehow was a part of me, and sometimes I wished I could travel on bikes to the village. That was how complicated my okada life was.

Just about ten seconds into the journey, my phone started to ring hysterically. I was pissed especially because I knew how important the call was, but I couldn’t answer it while on the bike, and under the rain. It was Uncle Ugonna’s call, and I was sure he was calling to know my location at the moment. He had promised to make my birthday a memorable one, and an hour back he had called to tell me to come and take twenty thousand Naira, ‘so at least you can arrange some drinks with your guys’ he had said and then dropped the call.

That money at this moment seemed like the whole Nigerian budget to me. I could swear I had lost touch of such kind of cash, and although I knew he was capable of doing ten times much more than he already did, I decided to accept this with both hands and my legs.

“Young man, where are you?” was the first thing I heard even before the phone reached my ear.

“I’m close to your house sir” I shouted on top of my voice ensuring he heard every bit of what I said.

“Hmmmm…ok…if I don’t see you in the next five minutes, I’m going out, and I would leave with the cash” he hung up immediately the last word dropped.

If there was one thing I knew about my uncle, it was that he never joked with timing, and he meant whatever he said over the phone.

And to ensure I got a happy ending over my uncle’s search for discipline, I tapped the okada-man on his right shoulder, and said loudly, “kai malam, fire this okada!”

And without even letting the words sink into his ears, he responded “yowa mutumina.” He seemed happy and over-joyed after I gave the command, and truthfully, he started to fly. I knew he was over-speeding, I knew it was dangerous considering the weather condition and that it was night, I also knew that if something happens, we both might not be spared; but despite all this knowledge, I still couldn’t stop or slow him down. I needed to get that cash, I needed to party and eat with my friends, I needed to buy a present for myself and most of all, I needed to have cash. All these together made me the biggest fool at that time. I was a fool on my birthday, and yes, even though I now understand the gravity of my actions at that time, I still fail to understand how I survived the crash that came our way less than a minute after I had urged the okada-man to end our existence.

I woke up some days later with all manner of wires penetrating into my skin, and I was bandaged like Lazarus in the tomb. People from all works of life had come to see me in the hospital, but uncle Ugonna. I’d like to think he hasn’t yet heard the unfortunate news his calls brought about. I was crushed and bed-ridden, but I could still swear that I needed that money. People came and stayed and went, but no one’s attention was most needed like that of my assassin Uncle. I looked out for him amongst the dozens that trooped in to offer their heartfelt and warmth pity for me. I didn’t feel any pain, and even if I did, I was so less worried about it, all I still needed was that cash that prompted all this.

*okada - Motorbike for public transportation

yowa mutumina – okay, my friend

Enjoy the rest of your week. x

Twitter: @vivio_gogo

IG: @ugochiukah

PMS – PREMENSTRUAL SYNDROME

Hello hi,

It’s been a short while but I trust you have been good. My last Bellanaija post can be found here.

Today I’m gonna be writing about:

PMS – Pre-Menstrual Syndrome

Okay, so I am obviously not new to menstruation (given my age) but I have definitely been ignorant about many things concerning this topic. The good news is that I learn something new every month. For me, PMS is the latest knowledge that I have acquired and it happened so because of certain events which I am about to write about that made me open up my heart to a little research.

For a long time, I had always noticed a change in my emotions and activities just a few days before my period would start but all these while, I just did not know that there was a name for these circles of events.  A specific change for me was fatigue – I would find myself yawning constantly and sleeping like I were a pregnant woman and no matter how much coffee I swallowed, it would make no difference. In fact, it would seem as if I had been drinking warm milk to make me sleep even more. For me, this tired feeling was not much of a problem because anytime I could not explain why I was so tired from doing nothing productive, I would check my period calendar. So it was useful in the sense that it was a reminder of my period and so I could start making plans ahead such as buying new sanitary towels, reordering my prescriptions, arranging my underwear (lol) and then shopping for and cooking the food that I would eat the following week.

Like I said, I kind of appreciate the fatigue feeling, besides the fact that I get way less work done, because it helped me prepare. However, around my previous period season, another event that was quite strange happened. It was on a Monday; as usual I had packed my lunch, taken a shower and done my makeup before leaving for work. When I got to work, the first thing I did was head straight to the coffee shop to get my ‘milk’, as that was how it would seem to my body during that season. It was still early so the queue was short, thankfully! When I got to the counter, the friendly waitress smiled and took my order. She was as polite as always but I noticed that there was something different about her that day. You see, usually, she would make a comment about how she liked my look for the day and would laugh loudly or smile really broadly, or something along that line. The point is that she would always try to do something to start a conversation with me (which I often felt was unnecessary as I am almost never in the mood for small talks early in the morning), but I would respond nonetheless because she seemed like a nice person. However, this time she did not say anything and I just assumed that she had had a long weekend or was really busy although only 2 people were left on the queue.

I had already ignored my thoughts and was putting a lid over my cup when I saw her take a quick glance at me. The glance was so fast that I would not have noticed it if I were not a sharp babe. My heart skipped a bit as I suddenly suspected what had happened. I slowly raised my hands reaching for my hair and there it was, I had worn my hairnet to work! I have no idea of how it happened since I had stood in front of the mirror applying my makeup that morning. I was so embarrassed and tried to quickly remove the net as covertly as I could but I could not help thinking about how many people had seen me in that state that morning – the people on the coffee queue and all the people on the road that I had walked past on my way to work (yes, yes, I know that they don’t know me but still, they have eyes!). No wonder the waitress had not said anything about my beautiful African braids, as she liked to call them.

I took my drink and headed back to my office with my hairnet in my pocket. I wondered what I would have done if I had been in her shoes; would I have told her that her hairnet was on or just ignored it as she did? Nevertheless, I could not blame her for my own forgetfulness; I could only blame my hormonal changes and womanhood. I tried to console myself by saying to myself that my hairnet wasn’t as bad looking; it was one of the usual black knitted ones with spaces in between and so at least a part of my hair was still showing. I also thought about how it could have been worse; one of my aunts had once told me that she had mistakenly worn her wig cap (without the wig) to a big store before. So truly, my case was not the worst in history but I knew that henceforth I had to be more cautious during these periods.

So it was this experience of mine above along with a few others, that made me check my internet for the cause of my problems and then I came across the word ‘PMS’. From my research, PMS is caused by hormonal and chemical changes in the body and brain in preparation for menses during the menstrual cycle. PMS, apparently, can make you forgetful (just as in my hairnet case), get you emotional and give you crying spells (I experienced a really bad one that same period. The poor dude that I was crying to looked confused and helpless. I do not even remember why I was crying, that’s how petty the reason was but I continued uncontrollably for an hour). Other symptoms associated with this syndrome include tender breasts, food cravings, mood swings, poor concentration, and fatigue like I mentioned earlier. Depression, acne and pain are also common such that some people take medications for them. So if you are having any of these strange feelings or changes just before your period begins, fear not; you are not alone! However, do not hesitate to visit your doctor if you cannot help yourself.

A few personal tips that might be useful are:

·         Being aware – when you are aware of what is going on within you, then you may be more relaxed and comfortable and be in a better place of mind to plan. So take some time out and read about PMS and its associated symptoms.

·         Staying away from annoying people – so if you know people that are generally annoying, try to avoid them during this period since you are more likely to be irritable. You don’t want to find yourself yelling at someone in the office.

·         Eating healthy – Food cravings are common and so try to stock yourself and your environment with healthy foods and drinks like fruits so that once you feel like eating, you would be eating an apple instead of a chocolate bar which you might regret in the near future.

·         Lastly, enjoy the moment while it lasts – yup! While menstruation has its snags, remember that menopause is a different ball game.

I hope I have shared something useful today and please leave your comments below. Thank you and have a great week.

Twitter handle: @vivio_gogo

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