The Trials of Fatimah- the struggles of an orobo Part 7

Before reading , be sure to read Part one to Six of Fatima’s journey Here

 

Excerpts

Bose pinched me….hard. I startled. She had a smirk on her face and I translated it to mean ‘don’t fall my hand”. I smiled weakly and followed them in. The place was amazing. The decor looked like something out of a wedding catalogue. The ambiance was like no other club around (not that I would know anyways). i was in heaven.

‘ Fatmah, meet my cousin Micheal.He has heard so much about you…… I turned around, a big smile on my face……
I crashed down to earth……………

Fat girls cannot be vain, superficial or hypocritical. Only skinny girls are.  We simply cannot be. We are victims of the skinny girls and thus cannot do the same to others. Nope!!  This was my mindset in those days and you could not tell me anything then to change my mind. But on that night, the night where I was destined to meet the ‘love of my life‘, it occurred to me for a split second, as I stared at Micheal that i am incredibly superficial

Or better put, as I stared DOWN at Micheal.

I am not a tall girl by any means. I considered myself very average in height but at this moment, I felt like Shaquille O’Neal staring then at one of his girlfriends. (in retrospect, Micheal was only a few inches shorter than me, but back then it seemed like the worst thing in the world.) Micheal was not a bad-looking boy. His clothes looked expensive and his weight was just average. I could not shake the image of he and I walking together down the street. The shorty and the fatty. People would laugh at us. Our children would either be short or fat and suffer humiliations. Why am I thinking of kids?

‘So, Fatmah…this is Micheal. He just transferred here. Micheal. Fatmah…‘ Jude absent-mindedly introduced us before stepping away. He and Bose immediately left us to mingle with others. I know that Bose and I are not bosom friends like that but bringing me here, introducing me to my future boyfriend (I know… i know) and leaving me immediately is NOT how the girl code works. There was an awkward 30 second silence before Micheal spoke

you are pretty‘. (why is he so short)

Awwwh. how can i hate a guy who calls me pretty (though the last guy that called me pretty tried to pimp me out to babysit his sister but we are not going to think about him today.) Focus Fatima.

‘Thank you.’

‘So Fatmah, what would you drink?’ (Shorty Mcdwarfy)

‘It is actually Fatima, not Fatmah’.

I am sorry.‘ He smiled again. He had a crooked smile and he is short.

I said any non alcoholic drinks was fine. ( Never being here, but he probably didn’t know that and i didn’t want to disgrace myself by ordering coke or fanta). I took time as he went to get our drinks to memorize all the details of the club. Everyone there looked great and skinny. Even the ones that were not skinny was curvy with no rolls. How is this fair.

Then i spotted her. A fellow fat girl. How come i have never seen her before? She was so pretty and carried her fat so well. She was very light-skinned. I tried to catch her eye, one fellow fat girl to another. She must have felt my gaze because she suddenly turned to me.  Then she smirked and whispered to her companions, two skinny girls who looked at me incredulously and snickered. I was so embarrassed. I turned away and almost bumped into Micheal returning with our cocktails.

‘Ooops. Easy dear’. (At least I didn’t splash it all over him. I would have been mortified)

He led me to one corner lounge. I could not take my mind off the girls snickering at me. I completely zoned out of whatever my short date was saying.  I didn’t know when I finished my drink. He offered me his and I took it without thinking. How dare a fellow fat girl snub me? who does she think she is? Looking down at me like she is better than me . (I conveniently forgot all my thoughts about Foluke. I am so hypocritical sometimes)

‘So tomorrow then?’

 ‘I am Sorry? ‘ I snapped out of my musing.

I was suggesting that we hang at Mama Cass tomorrow. We really can’t talk here. 

He invited me to Mama Cass.  Hmmm……..Ok…… Mr No-height may not be bad at all. Mama Cass is one of the joints for those with money to spare. Their prices are out of my budget and I only ate there once through my first year (If buying an outrageously expensive meat-pie can be called eating. I call it snacking.) But how will I be seen working with someone so short. Won’t people laugh at us? Then again, if hanging out with Micheal would bring me into the world of the University elite , how can i say No?

‘Ok . Cool. Definitely’

3.00 p.m (is that meant to be Lunch or Dinner)

Sure.

Cool. Lets dance.

I thought ‘Dance ke??? You and who?’ Apparently Micheal failed to hear my inner thought and pulled me to the dance floor. For a short average guy, he was able to pull me quite firmly to the center of the room.

The Horror.

 

 

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