|
Tamara's Diary - May 2003 |
|
Written by Tamara
|
Dear Diary,
If I ever doubted it in the past, it has now been confirmed to me once again: - Place a scantily dressed woman in front of a man - regardless of his age and you will get the same reaction. A lack of oxygen in the brain and blood congestion further south.
In my climb up the corporate ladder, I am ashamed to say, dear diary, that I had forgotten the power welded by a mini and a great pair of legs. I mean, let us face it. Men and women are not equal. Men are stronger. On average, they are larger in size. They were made to be hunters and protectors. No amount of women's lobbing will change that. God gave them some definite advantages. But since the onset of feminism, we have become so engrossed in proving that we can do a man's job that we have forgotten what it is to be a woman, do a woman's job and weld a woman's power. God may not have made us equal, but he made us fair. A woman who aspires to a man has no ambition. We may not be able to rule the world, but we sure as hell can rule the man who rules the world!
So halfway though the year I am chartering a new course for my life. Climbing the corporate ladder and fighting for my place as an equal in a man's world was fun, but a lot of work. So I am changing strategies. I am scaling the walls not in army boots, but in a mini, tights and stiletto heels. I swear this is going to be fun!!
So of course, Mutinta, Austella and I spent Saturday getting dolled up. Zairians have invaded the country and are opening Beauty Parlours all over the show that do everything from braiding hair - those really tiny ones that take like three days - to waxing and skin bleaching. Yeah, bleaching. They actually have a catalogue and everything and you choose the shade of brown or orange or pink that you want to be and they will smear this AWFUL smelling stuff all over your body, wrap you up in plastics like a casserole and bake you to the right shade. Two to three hours later and Voila! You are coloured. Or orange. Or white. Or pink Easy and pain free. You will just need to come in every three months or so for a re-touch. Apparently, it's very popular these days.
But not up my alley, thank you very much! I happen to like my chocolate skin. It makes me feel decadent. Like something gloriously wonderful and sinfully delicious. Call it arrogance, but I swear I am perfect. Everything about me is perfect - from my nose to my big toes even the colour of my skin. Why would I want to mess with perfection just because lighter skin is in fad?
I had planned on adding red-gold streaks into my hair, but after all the bleaching talk, I was feeling all Proud African and decided against it. Even the French manicure felt too artificial, so I passed it too. Still, with my face and hair all done up, we hounded the boutiques everywhere from carousel (yes, it is still there!) to Cairo Road and Manda Hill.
Saturday night, we painted the town red in style. Gosh, it was fun. A girl's night out. I swear, I have not had one of those in ages and it felt good. We started off at O'Hagan's, where we caused quite a stir, but turned down all male invitations. Then Zenon, Chit Chat - where Peter Stuyvesant was having some kind of muzungu music fest, and back to Zenon where we danced till the club closed at 07.00 on Sunday morning. It felt good to nurse a hang over again. It was the first time in as long as I could remember that four girls had gone out for a night on the town and all four girls had gone home together. We have promised each other we will do this again in two weeks.
So, as of now, the gloves are off. I am through playing in the man's world according to his rules. There are no more rules! Anything does from now on. That is - anything I say goes. I mean, no wonder the guys have been beating us at this. It's their world, and they run it by their rules. They had some how convinced us that only their rules are to be followed. Well we'll see about that. I swear, Will and the rest of them had better be ready for me on Monday, coz I'm coming out, and the gloves are off.
Music Please!!
Trackback(0)
 |
TrackBack URI for this entry
Subscribe to this comment's feed
