Like there are two sides to every coin, being dainty sure has its pros and con. One of the advantages is people being too quick to indulge you when circumstances make you behave in ways that are typical of folks younger than you.
Such that, they have no idea that your birth certificate actually view your actions in a contrasting manner. And trust me, I relish in such pleasurable adventures most of the time.
On the other hand, there have been but a few times when my nerves appeared stretched, and I felt so ordinary when my physique was at play in the way I was addressed . On such occasions, my level of maturity have been unduly questioned even by much younger people, going by the way of stylish insult and boos.
Needless to say I get ‘wooed’ by younger males especially these rather ‘old‘ looking adolescents. Their full confidence gotten from the ‘minute’ drop of testosterone their supposed bloodstream could muster.
I would like to recount an experience I had few years ago.
I was on my way from work and would have looked more like an ‘office -babe’, if it were not for the ‘corn row’ plaited hair I had on, as I am fond of removing my ‘wig’ as soon as I step out of the four walls of the Organization where I work. My shirt tucked out and sleeves rolled up, my feet adorning slippers and shoes since flunged into my bag, I boarded a bus and found myself sitting next to this very young looking boy, obviously in his teens.
Visibly stressed and reminiscing about the day, his voice jolted me back to reality.
“sup girl, how are you doing dear?”
I simply smiled, but totally oblivious of the reason for my grin he proceeded to introduce himself. The real surprise came when he said he was heading to his ‘special coaching center’ where candidates are housed and supposedly coached few days preceding the jamb examinations.
“Really!!!” I exclaimed. “Well…” I continued. “The last time I wrote JAMB was like twelve years ago” and unconsciously he added,
“ma”, then he said “sorry”.
But he never stopped stealing glances at the ‘small’ me to be sure I wasn’t even telling a lie until he alighted. I had no choice than to forgive his ignorance of mistaking me for a teen.
Just recently, an unpalatable experience had got my mum really laughing hard. Each time she remembers, she would make fun of me to the point I kept wondering why I had to be an exact replica of my paternal aunt. A woman in her seventies yet looked like she had only been on this planet for just four to five decades.
Anyway, despite my small frame I detest having to share the passenger seat with anyone apart from the rider whenever I ply Lagos suburbs on a motorcycle.
My reason?
I hate that too close body contact experienced with a total stranger,and since some people have simply decided to subject their ‘soul case’ to odor due to their non nonchalance to proper hygiene, I just cant afford to be oozing like a dead meat.
On this fateful day I had unintentionally set out later than usual,and because i was behind time, it was one of those mornings I could not have the luxury of being a solo bike passenger if I was to make it to work early enough to avoid query. I got to my bus stop and behold, I stood transfixed on a spot for over thirty minutes looking for a bike to take me to ‘command bus stop’.
Totally frustrated, help came from a visibly ‘plus-sized’ rider carrying an equally ‘plus sized’ woman passenger who out of being kind, willingly alighted so that I could mount to the middle.
Lo and behold, I found myself sandwiched ‘gbam’ between two ‘biggies’ ironically with ‘body odour’. In that moment, the least of my problems was the sweat and odor as I was seriously craving ‘fresh air’.
The sheer inconvenience I experienced all through the journey lasted was better imagined than experienced, I literally could not breathe brethren.
These duo chocked me in between their flesh and as we rode on, I murmured at interval quite incoherently to show my discomfort but non of them cared, yet the road was bad with terrible pot holes.
My soul wept seriously.
On getting to my destination I alighted, dipped my hand into my wallet to make payment to the bike man, but I was determined to get back at my co passenger for choking me so I suggested to her.
“Madam, please next time take a bike alone for convenience sake” and she simply smiled before responding,
“your size was the reason we picked you up, It would not have been possible with a very fleshy person” she replied very politely.
“like I didn’t pay for the sheer discomfort I went through” I murmured and was on my way into the office when it struck me that being petite got me to work early enough to avoid a query anyway.
So conclusively, I have come to discover that the older I get, the more i fall in love with ‘a little fleshier than tiny’ me because as far as I am concerned, everybody that I have met really wants to be adjudged young forever.
To those of you who at our first meeting think I am a teenager, or those who accord me ‘little’ space at public sittings owing to my size, or if you simply think my brain is as petite as I look, keep the insults rolling, but just like my aunt, I honestly believe myself to remain at least one decade younger as long as I live.
Born as Titilayo Oladimeji, I have been known by the nickname Titipetral for nearly two decades. I am a Financial Advisor at a reputable financial institution in Lagos, Nigeria, with over 10 years of experience in Financial Advisory and Credit Analysis. I am also an author and the founder of Titipetral Publishers, a duly registered publishing company.
In addition, I lead the Titipetral Empowerment and Development Network (TEDN), a duly registered philanthropic initiative dedicated to supporting underprivileged girls, boys, women, and men in the Alimosho area, Nigeria’s most populated local government, focusing on serving the underserved.
For inquiries or collaboration, you can reach me at Titilayooladimeji@titipetral.com or titipetral@gmail.com.