I know for sure that without drive or inspiration, your aspirations will come to naught.
I also know that self-actualization is a very important part of life’s progression. Some people actualize earlier than others, some die without getting there, others force issues.
It is the latter group that I address.
I have always thought myself smarter than the average, I do not find myself swayed by advertisements (I’ll give you shoe adverts) or images forced down everyone’s throat. However, there are those who wish to revisit the already broken mould that was used to shape and present them in the form they were born.
Dear bleachers, it is you that I speak of.
I have accepted but yet to move on with your acquired skin tone. The ones with a success rate of less than 30% have shocked me to my naturally brown core.
The other day, I received a guest who had in tow a phenomenon. My guest, a strapping young lad, has rendered love an emotion that dulls the senses, either that or he is colour blind. The woman in his company was a full representation of my entire day.
How do I mean?
Well, her face was truly beautiful. I am refereeing to her bone structure and not skin color. Her skin reminded me of the orange rays that pierce the clouds as the sun kisses the skies with plenty of tongue. The beautiful rays remind you of sweet ripe oranges, which will be poured into your glass along with eggs, served sunny side up. Orange, the shade of leaves in autumn, and a favoured theme colour for many weddings. But not with this one, her face was a scary shade of whorange.
Her arms, my oh my! Her arms were still evolving. They reminded me of dusk, when the sun is playing hide and go seek with approaching darkness. When tones are dark one minute, and then bright the next as shadows shift and the sun loses its battle. Her arms also reminded me of a childhood quilt. My quilt was bought a beautiful brown, that kind of brown that reminded you of fertility. Fertile earth that bought forth harvest, and that felt cool and welcoming to bare feet. But years of Omo with extra power foam, power foam plus and new packaging left my quilt a tired undecided shade of brown. It even had spots of blonde, some mocha, others deep, but altogether not a welcoming sight. Yes, her arms were like my old quilt. Deep brown here, blonde there, a giraffe that ended at her pits.
Her legs scared my appetite away, and this not even illness does. Her legs were the color of midnight. That type of deep dark midnight that causes blackouts. I thought she was wearing dark panty hose, only to be met by stencilled toe nails. She was that darkness that scares demons, as in if they could they would use a flash light, or take the night off because it is NEVER that serious. Black, complete black, I wondered what part of this Republic she came from, if she hailed from here at all.
How does one person hold three times of day? Is she a secret manual to men? Start in the darkness, but do not linger, then work your way towards the light? I do not understand this, I really don’t.
I gather that light skinned or people with fairer complexion have been portrayed as more attractive or desirable, but what most people forget is majority were born this way.
So, if you must self-actualize, because your inspiration was plastered on your wall since you were 10; and you have aspired to lighten until now. Please adjust your wardrobe accordingly. Do not display your hands, because your knuckles have shadows that look like coal mines. Long sleeves and pants will be your portion, display the united colours of Benetton only under florescent lighting, there is no need to be a single clown party.