Human Skin to Win or Lose

Smiling, a female friend of mine mentioned her plans to give Body Bleaching a try! Guess my reaction. I was white with shock, wheeled round to meet her gaze and was staring at her minutes on end... Like I should never stop doing so! Then, I reclaimed myself-control at just the wonderful moment it occurred to me that I could change her thoughts for the better with rebukes and a final strict order to steer clear of The False Friend of Human Skin.

“Good a thing you informed me” I told Agatha in a celebratory voice and then tried to hand her a speaking picture of the ruinous mistake she was about to make. I must have said something about Bleaching Lotion not as harmless as their users are making them out: how some of their lovers had ended up with skin blotches that make The Leopard’s and Cheetah’s seem a child’s play!

A bit surprised was I at my uncharacteristic boldness on the subject. Only selected clergymen showed it while attacking from the pulpit misleading Worldly Wisdom. So, by choice, I began to steal glances at Agatha, my intention to keep weighing the positive effects of my words on her while she continued to reflect on the much I had said. But - Alas! – Agatha seemed to have been sizing me up and sort of praying that I would turn and notice them. It was irresistible forming the opinion that she had all of a sudden turned into a self-conscious lady of twenty-two, who could not understand why somebody else cheaply handed information about her private fancy should take off from there and go the fearless length of soon becoming Her Guidance Counselor on a matter that she truly needed none!

Clearly, Agatha had not bargained for it. Yet, for my concern, she assured me that she would not go ahead to experiment out the idea and even shall call at my domicile in a week’s time as tangible proof that she had not eaten her words.

“Trust me, I’ll notice a skin which has swallowed a week’s bleaching, “I said but made sure I laughed a comic one!

Somehow, in spite of our productive dialogue, I was expecting An Agatha who, in the end, would not keep her Semi-Oath. Fuelling my suspicion was the manner in which she had said her “Parting Thank You: “Sahara desert dry!” A rather scrambled one that was robbed of sincerity. Consequently, no sooner had she walked off than I began by turns to swing round towards the direction she had taken, my contempt for her disappearing figure very obvious. No two possibilities, The Bloody Wench have made up her mind to bury her next month’s Sales-Woman’s Salary in The Chemical! I just could see Agatha’s earnest fingers ransacking her purse for Naira Notes and next drop them on the itching-to-receive palms of sellers of complexion cream….

With unfolding events I was proven dead right. Agatha had eventually breezed into some boutique to pick up many tubes of a certain Skin Toner, carefully sealing her lips over it. Apparently, she had meant it to be a riddle I should solve myself. As it turned out, I did so in less than two weeks, heavily relying on lingered looks at her skin with my two efficient eyes. Really much quicker than The Philistines could Samson’s Riddle requiring a thrashing out. Then, Agatha’s skin had acquired a pronounced lightening: what used to be Near Jet Black; a new unnatural fairness for a skin I had long thought Twilight’s Dimness.

Expectedly, the male company of Agatha swelled in number. The young competing men were as markedly different from one another as Sheep are from Wolves. Often, they flocked around her, each striving to become her Chivalrous Knight or Patient Hopeful. Indeed, their fondness for her was such that they all were willing to spare her their valued time. For as many tines as I strutted past Agatha’s father’s single-storey building and she happened to be in its frontage, I would pick out some young man or middle-aged one making her a modest-gift of cash or kind. Agatha, as often was her custom, would shriek her childish delight at being one more garment rich or an ornament richer: “Oh! How generous of you, Danny!”

“Eddie! You don’t mean really to humor me with this fat envelope… Jeez, it’s N10,000.00!”

Twice, Agatha had released a Whoopee! before a young man of between Twenty-Five and Twenty-Six asking him “Why me? for having just been made by him a proud owner of a gold necklace. The guy with a roughish smile playing on his lips, softly asked Agatha if she had not noticed her heartbeat-quickening skin…

“Oh, common, Agatha! You know you’ve got an exquisite nice-to-behold skin texture!” he did not throw away a minute to add.

Shame-faced, I had to get the hell out of there with resumed quick strides, before Victorious Agatha should spot my presence in the vicinity. She might just launch into some celebration of it with an easy blend of sneers at me and arch smiles of triumph!

Six years after, in an October, Agatha’s Steadfast use of Skin Toners suddenly wrought her a new picture that was as unforgettable as it was painful. On the whole, she began to observe that whenever she was passing by, a set of familiar faces would suspend their conversation to strike up a new one in muffled tones while casting her furtive glances…

No mistaking their new topic and fresh discussion somewhat hinging upon her: upon her dealings, Affair, Life, Conduct…

Or could it be her Physical Appearance? Sadly, Agatha was far from sure which. A disability that prevented her from working herself into a rage or singling out whom to take offence at!

Nonetheless, matters came to a head, when a seller mother, who had been watching her for a couple of weeks mid-course her routine shopping, called her aside for a brief chat and the subject was the Unnatural Brightness of her skin.

Piah! Agatha slid off from her company, anxious to be rid of an uninvited well-wisher. Her words too unbearable for any length of entertainment by their lady recipient. All these terrible stuff about “Bathing one’s Christ -Given Body in Satan’s Chemical.”Very uncivil remarks they were that demanded that she leave the venue at a full gallop, only stopping to pant, half-walk, half run and with restored breaths, resume her gallops.

Reaching her one room apartment, Agatha breathlessly un-hung her giant mirror from its wall-positioning for the longest look at herself. For a very long survey of the Irreparable Damage Sanjah Toner Creams had done to her once virgin complexion… They were not funny dark patches which Sanjah had excused their presence in certain parts of her neck, elbow, knees, points and knuckles while ruthlessly corroding neighboring regions.

Time to noiselessly pick up the new untouched Sanjah Toner Creams she had greedily ordered tube by tube and turn in the direction of a nearby refuse dump!

Human Skin Win or Lose

Smiling, a female friend of mine mentioned her plans to give Body Bleaching a try! Guess my reaction. I was white with shock, wheeled round to meet her gaze and was staring at her minutes on end... Like I should never stop doing so! Then, I reclaimed myself-control at just the wonderful moment it occurred to me that I could change her thoughts for the better with rebukes and a final strict order to steer clear of The False Friend of Human Skin.

“Good a thing you informed me” I told Agatha in a celebratory voice and then tried to hand her a speaking picture of the ruinous mistake she was about to make. I must have said something about Bleaching Lotion not as harmless as their users are making them out: how some of their lovers had ended up with skin blotches that make The Leopard’s and Cheetah’s seem a child’s play!

A bit surprised was I at my uncharacteristic boldness on the subject. Only selected clergymen showed it while attacking from the pulpit misleading Worldly Wisdom. So, by choice, I began to steal glances at Agatha, my intention to keep weighing the positive effects of my words on her while she continued to reflect on the much I had said. But - Alas! – Agatha seemed to have been sizing me up and sort of praying that I would turn and notice them. It was irresistible forming the opinion that she had all of a sudden turned into a self-conscious lady of twenty-two, who could not understand why somebody else cheaply handed information about her private fancy should take off from there and go the fearless length of soon becoming Her Guidance Counselor on a matter that she truly needed none!

Clearly, Agatha had not bargained for it. Yet, for my concern, she assured me that she would not go ahead to experiment out the idea and even shall call at my domicile in a week’s time as tangible proof that she had not eaten her words.

“Trust me, I’ll notice a skin which has swallowed a week’s bleaching, “I said but made sure I laughed a comic one!

Somehow, in spite of our productive dialogue, I was expecting An Agatha who, in the end, would not keep her Semi-Oath. Fuelling my suspicion was the manner in which she had said her “Parting Thank You: “Sahara desert dry!” A rather scrambled one that was robbed of sincerity. Consequently, no sooner had she walked off than I began by turns to swing round towards the direction she had taken, my contempt for her disappearing figure very obvious. No two possibilities, The Bloody Wench have made up her mind to bury her next month’s Sales-Woman’s Salary in The Chemical! I just could see Agatha’s earnest fingers ransacking her purse for Naira Notes and next drop them on the itching-to-receive palms of sellers of complexion cream….

With unfolding events I was proven dead right. Agatha had eventually breezed into some boutique to pick up many tubes of a certain Skin Toner, carefully sealing her lips over it. Apparently, she had meant it to be a riddle I should solve myself. As it turned out, I did so in less than two weeks, heavily relying on lingered looks at her skin with my two efficient eyes. Really much quicker than The Philistines could Samson’s Riddle requiring a thrashing out. Then, Agatha’s skin had acquired a pronounced lightening: what used to be Near Jet Black; a new unnatural fairness for a skin I had long thought Twilight’s Dimness.

Expectedly, the male company of Agatha swelled in number. The young competing men were as markedly different from one another as Sheep are from Wolves. Often, they flocked around her, each striving to become her Chivalrous Knight or Patient Hopeful. Indeed, their fondness for her was such that they all were willing to spare her their valued time. For as many tines as I strutted past Agatha’s father’s single-storey building and she happened to be in its frontage, I would pick out some young man or middle-aged one making her a modest-gift of cash or kind. Agatha, as often was her custom, would shriek her childish delight at being one more garment rich or an ornament richer: “Oh! How generous of you, Danny!”

“Eddie! You don’t mean really to humor me with this fat envelope… Jeez, it’s N10,000.00!”

Twice, Agatha had released a Whoopee! before a young man of between Twenty-Five and Twenty-Six asking him “Why me? for having just been made by him a proud owner of a gold necklace. The guy with a roughish smile playing on his lips, softly asked Agatha if she had not noticed her heartbeat-quickening skin…

“Oh, common, Agatha! You know you’ve got an exquisite nice-to-behold skin texture!” he did not throw away a minute to add.

Shame-faced, I had to get the hell out of there with resumed quick strides, before Victorious Agatha should spot my presence in the vicinity. She might just launch into some celebration of it with an easy blend of sneers at me and arch smiles of triumph!

Six years after, in an October, Agatha’s Steadfast use of Skin Toners suddenly wrought her a new picture that was as unforgettable as it was painful. On the whole, she began to observe that whenever she was passing by, a set of familiar faces would suspend their conversation to strike up a new one in muffled tones while casting her furtive glances…

No mistaking their new topic and fresh discussion somewhat hinging upon her: upon her dealings, Affair, Life, Conduct…

Or could it be her Physical Appearance? Sadly, Agatha was far from sure which. A disability that prevented her from working herself into a rage or singling out whom to take offence at!

Nonetheless, matters came to a head, when a seller mother, who had been watching her for a couple of weeks mid-course her routine shopping, called her aside for a brief chat and the subject was the Unnatural Brightness of her skin.

Piah! Agatha slid off from her company, anxious to be rid of an uninvited well-wisher. Her words too unbearable for any length of entertainment by their lady recipient. All these terrible stuff about “Bathing one’s Christ -Given Body in Satan’s Chemical.”Very uncivil remarks they were that demanded that she leave the venue at a full gallop, only stopping to pant, half-walk, half run and with restored breaths, resume her gallops.

Reaching her one room apartment, Agatha breathlessly un-hung her giant mirror from its wall-positioning for the longest look at herself. For a very long survey of the Irreparable Damage Sanjah Toner Creams had done to her once virgin complexion… They were not funny dark patches which Sanjah had excused their presence in certain parts of her neck, elbow, knees, points and knuckles while ruthlessly corroding neighboring regions.

Time to noiselessly pick up the new untouched Sanjah Toner Creams she had greedily ordered tube by tube and turn in the direction of a nearby refuse dump!

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