As a kid, I’d come home and complain to my folks I wasn’t seeing the board in class. My dad would shout at me and say it’s because I sit too close to the TV. In my junior high, I finally put a name to my predicament. I was short sighted and needed to use glasses. When I suggested this to my dad, he gave me a response that would go on to shape my thinking. He said, “No daughter of mine will use glasses because men don’t marry women who wear glasses.” And me, I wanted to get married so, I never brought up the glasses talk again.
In my second year in the uni, I couldn’t take it anymore. It was beginning to take a toll on me. It was bad enough that the overcrowded lecture halls we’re noisy, I couldn’t see either. I was just deceiving myself in class. Plus many people had begun to accuse me of seeing them and snubbing them. I finally got one without his permission. In the early days, I would hide it from him. The day he found out, everywhere thundered. He said I wanted to spoil my eyes, I should go and pray to see, blah blah. I did not even answer him. It’s she that has the eyes that knows how it is doing her. 🙄🙄🙄
But then again, maybe he was right. How else can I explain how I’m still single?
So, what faabu did your mum or dad give you as a kid that you ate like hot akara and bread? 😂😂😂