This is another gem from another of my aunts (yeah, my aunts are better than yours!)
During my sister’s upcoming wedding preparations, the bridesmaids had a meeting with the beautician, who happens to be my aunt.

Ok, I have a confession to make. I never really did stick to my tried-and-true remedy for rashes. I am quite lazy when it comes to beauty treatments. I honestly can’t picture myself waking up an hour earlier than usual everyday to apply makeup and do all those things that women with perfectly flawless skin do to maintain their complexions (OK, for some it’s just their genes, show-offs!)

Anyway, of course this time I took the initiative to ask about some beauty treatments because I gotta look awesome for my sister’s wedding.

So my aunt had this to say
Apparently I have oily skin on my forehead hence the rashes. Thankfully, there were some other ladies with the same dilemma as I did, thank God. So what she would recommend (and it works, I’ve tried it; I just need to keep at it!) is:

Orange juice

1. A cleanser of orange juice
Take an orange, squeeze some juice in a glass and use cotton wool to apply all over the face as a cleanser. It leaves your skin feeling fresh and rejuvenated.

2. A facial scrub of lemon and sugar
Cut a lemon in half and apply some sugar on it. Use this to rub all over the face as an exfoliating scrub.

3. A facial mask of natural yogurt
Apply the yogurt all over the face and leave to dry. Wash it off and moisturize. (This works the same as the milk mask, only it is better because of the cultures found in the yogurt)

Ok, truthfully, I have done the scrub and the cleanser semi-regularly, and it definitely leaves my skin feeling so fresh and revitalized. I haven’t had the chance to use the yogurt mask, but I have been using milk which also works well.
I am hoping to keep at this and maybe show you a before and after picture…NOT!
Try it for yourself and let me know.

Note:

• For dry skin, substitute lemon for avocado.
• For normal skin, you can use honey and maize flour as an exfoliating scrub.

Clearly natural products is the way to go (plus it’s loads cheaper)
Try it and give feedback please!

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Sometimes, when I am not too wrapped up in myself, I watch people; notice people. Sometimes, when I look really really closely, I see their eyes and what’s behind them. I notice their clothes, gait, expressions. Body language is the greatest whistle-blower.

I see a man, heavy laden, dragging a mkokoteni (hand cart) along a road filled with cars hooting at him for causing an even greater traffic jam, regardless of the fact that whether or not he was there, the traffic pile-up would reduce by, what, a centimetre? Anyway, the man’s body is young, but his face is filled with worry lines causing a grim expression way above his years. He looks hardened by life, like someone you would never want to meet on a deserted dark alley. But look behind his eyes.

Again I turn around and see a woman carrying a load on her head, one child strapped to her back and the other being dragged along by the hand. She is in a hurry, God knows where she is going with such haste. She moves mechanically, stops at a bus stage and comforts the fussing child she is carrying without even looking in its face. She disciplines the one whose hand she is holding without even thinking; its almost something second nature to her. Sighing, she gets  into the bus and sits, carrying both children and her load because she can’t afford to pay for an extra seat. She looks tough and ready to deal with whatever life throws at her. But look behind her eyes.

I’m in a rowdy matatu, passengers are being forced to sit in excess and being pangwad (arranged) like cabbages in a truck, and as we stop at a bus stop, I see a group of young men…rowdy youths by any outward appearance. They look like the famous Mungiki adherents, what with their rowdy jostling and loud laughter. They look up to no good and you almost wish a truck bearing the dreaded GSU would descend on them and have them removed from your line of sight in an instant. But this time, I look again. There is something behind their eyes that breaks my heart.

It’s desperation.

Henry David Thoreau wrote: “the mass of men live lives of quiet desperation“. How right he was. Everything behind their eyes is desperation.

The mkokoteni driver is desperate for a better life, for him and the family he obviously has. He didn’t choose to do this thankless back-breaking job that he has to do to support himself and everyone else who depends on him. He would like a better job; an office job perhaps or a good thriving business. He’d like to be someone his wife and kids would be proud of.

The young mother would have loved to go to college, study whatever she wanted, enjoy her single life and achieve her dreams before she decided to settle down and start a family. But life dealt her a different hand.
The rowdy youths would love to be in college or high school, learning about things that impact the world, having dreams annd aspirations, being young and living right. They would love to have loving parents, better role models, a better life. They are desperate for it.

I guess all of us are quietly desperate for something. But I realized that I am lucky. My dreams are at hand. I don’t have a thankless job and constant suffering as my shadow. I can speak for myself, support myself, have the things in life I need.

If only we were all so lucky.

Take time to look into someone’s eyes today. Do something to alleviate their desperation if you can. If you can’t, at least appreciate all that you have. That’s the least you can do.

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So there you were, the two inseparable lovebirds, cooing at each other, stealing glances, barely keeping your hands off each other. You called each other 10 times a day “just because”. The sweet little gifts were exchanged and the sweet nothings whispered in each other’s ears.

Everyone around you was jealous and sick at the same time.

But, though you barely noticed it, it’s gone now. You can’t even remember the last time you missed him/her.

Or you met a kindred spirit. This girl understood you and finished your sentences. You had the same taste in clothing, movies, shoes, food. You knew who to call when you needed a shopping buddy or just to vent. You knew who to call when you both had no dates Friday night coz you could just hang out and have fun together.

So when did she start getting on your nerves? How come you never noticed how annoying she can be sometimes? How come you avoid hanging out with her nowadays and seek out other friends? What happened?

How about the girls from work? You carpool some evenings and sometimes go for drinks together after work. You catch up on office gossip and laugh at Bill from Accounting who hits on every creature in a skirt. You evaluate your monthly earnings and strategize on how you’re going to ask for a raise. You give each other tips on surviving office politics. You have intelligent conversations together. You’ve found other friends who you can relate to at work.

How then, did you start being jealous of each other? Why did you start noticing how Jenny is too close to her boss? When did you start turning on each other as if you’re all competing for the same prize?

There’s a phrase for this condition (coined, partly, by me): The End of the Honeymoon Phase.

The Honeymoon Phase IS where everything looks rosy and beautiful. Everything is alright with the world. You’ve never felt happier, more understood, or fit in better. It’s a great feeling.

But then the beauty starts to wear off. Reality starts to set in.

I guess in that phase you don’t really see things as they are. They’re obscured somewhat, I don’t know by what….denial perhaps? Hope?

I dislike the End of the Honeymoon Phase. I guess I dislike reality because it’s cold and hard. I like the warm fuzziness of the Honeymoon Phase.

How to deal with it?

I have a few theories:

1.    Accept it. It was bound to happen anyway. It’s life, and we all know it’s NOT perfect.

2.    Embrace it. Yes, so you learnt your partner is not such a good listener after all. He merely stares as his mind wanders and you yap away. You can use that to ask him for all the things you want and then use it against him because he was just nodding senselessly. See? You both win. He didn’t have to hear all your drivel and you get what you wanted. It’s win-win if you ask me.

3.    Learn from it. So the girls from work aren’t really going to be your BFFs. That’s OK, you have other friends, right? Guess it’ll just make you appreciate the true friends you have more.

Now, to go follow my own advice.

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Being a woman is hard. Ask any woman.

I know this because I am one.

We are emotional, loving, caring, tough, nurturing, strong, beautiful, complicated beings…hardly a simple combination. We cry, laugh, shop, talk for hours, eat, try on clothes, clean, cook, work and try to stay sane.

We fight, love, care, seek and try to please everyone.

Somewhere in each woman is a little girl who never got over the beauty of a rainbow, pretty butterflies and flowers. The little girl in her seeks to be beautiful, noticed and loved. It’s true of every woman.

Truth be told, though, many women are hardly these things. Deep down they are, but on the surface, they are tough. They are unemotional. And they couldn’t careless about the colors of the rainbow.

The problem came in when we were born in a world that is hardly a paradise. In an ideal world, women would be the lovely, captivating creatures lovingly nurturing their children and heaping love on her spouse, because she is satisfied and knows she is loved. And she would be secure in her femininity, creating beauty wherever she went ,and not trying to be a tough cookie…because she wasn’t made to be. Her man was supposed to be the tough one, and I’m not saying women aren’t tough…they are incredibly strong and can go through unbelievably hard times and come out victorious and even stronger. I mean the tough exterior, the manliness. The “I-can-do-anything-and-will-get-there-no-matter-who-i-hurt” attitude.

Femininity is tenderness and vulnerability. It’s confidence and beauty, from the inside out. This is who we were menat to be.

Unfortunately, the world took over. Demands on our time came in. broken homes resulted in insecure children, and the insecure girls grew up to be insecure women. Bad people met these insecure women and made them even more guarded, stealing away their femininity.

Femininity is precious. It is attractive. It is prized. But it is at a cost. Trust, vulnerability, confidence. These are high prices to being an ideal woman.

Where am I going with this?

Being a woman isn’t supposed to be this hard. It is supposed to be a delight. People should delight in us, in our femininity, beauty and womanhood.

And another thing, true femininity brings out true masculinity. And vice versa.

You probably haven’t met a man who was a true masculine man. A lot of things are wrong with our world. But chances are, he didn’t get a good example of masculinity to follow. Absentee dads, over-bearing mothers, life in general. It’s hardly close to perfect.

It’s a vicious cycle.

I guess what I’m trying to say is if we re-discovered ourselves, both men and women, and lived as we were created to, meant to, designed to…relationships would be easier, life would be easier, we would worry about greater things like world peace and not whether he is going to call or if he is going to leave me or if she is cheating on him….or whatever. You get the drift.

I’m re-discovering my femininity. It’s not as easy as it sounds.

Maybe you can try and do the same.

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A phenomenon that I have always heard about recently came knocking at my door. I never used to believe the “rumors” that guys go to church to look for nice Christian girls to marry or date or whatever, well, that was until it happened to me.

See, I am your average church girl. I grew up in church, I go to church, I am involved in church, I talk about church…really, I am a church girl.

This is not necessarily a good thing, according to some. Family members and random acquaintances used to warn me…as much as you go to church, watch out for those church men.

Huh?

Why?

I have never dated one and the guys I have dated or “dated” have never been church guys. And granted, they were nothing to write home about, many hurt me and with many I found out we had nothing in common and nothing worth building a future on, after all the pixie dust and starry eyes had worn off and grown dim.

So what could be worse, church guys? I think not!

Anyway, so I met a church guy. Boy, was I excited! Finally I get to meet someone who speaks my language!

NOT!

Suffice it to say I learnt that not all church guys are really there for church. Some are there to score. Period.

My dear fellow church girls, watch out.

I have even heard crazy stories of guys who, once they have their eyes set on a particular focused, church-going, devout mamasita, go on to volunteer for the worship team, intercessors fellowship and Bible study ministry.

I once heard of a guy who borrowed his girl’s Bible once and proceeded to highlight  all her favorite verses that she had highlighted in his own Bible. So the next time they met and the girl happened to look at the guy’s Bible, she was more than overjoyed to find that they shared a love for the exact same Bible verses. It must have been fate, nay, divine intervention!

Yeah right.

I’m not saying all church guys are fake. Some are really devout and serious. Sadly, those ones are either married or engaged.

I’m just saying, the myth that there are girls who are dated and those who get married is not a myth. It’s a cold truth. That’s why strange guys are “converting” and flocking in churches nowadays.

Somewhere along the way, all we can do is hope that somehow God transforms them, even in their deception.

Meanwhile, church girls, watch and pray!

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So girls, let’s have a heart to heart.

Why do we hate each other, spite each other and bring each other down?

Why do we use bad words on each other…the B word, the WH word, the S word?

We are all the same, we go through the same stuff, we have the same emotional make-up, we look pretty much the same inside…so shouldn’t we stick together?

Girl 1: “That B stole my boyfriend!”

Girl 2: “How could she? She just looks like something the cat dragged in anyway.”

Girl 1: “I gave her a piece of my mind though. I told her he will always be my man and I am going to get him back!”

Girl 2: “You go girl, let her know what she is messing with. That guy deserves better and that’s you.”

Hello?? Anything wrong with that conversation?? The MAN cheated on you. It’s more his fault than hers!

“I deserved that promotion more than she did. She probably slept her way to the top.”

“What the hell is that she’s wearing? Somebody call the fashion police!”

“That woman’s house needs to be on How Clean Is Your House. Have you seen it? It’s so filthy! She has kids and works two jobs but please…that’s no excuse. I can do better.”

“No wonder her husband left her. Look at how she dresses. And she sure has put on the pounds.”

And on and on and on.

Why do we do this to each other?

Women are the only ones who can best understand each other. They are the only ones who can understand the pain a woman goes through in any situation because they are made the same emotionally.

Only  a woman can tell a fellow woman where to get he best hairdos, the cheapest clothes and the best house helps.

Only a fellow woman will know that dark-colored clothes make you look slimmer than lighter ones. That getting cheated on makes you feel, more than anything else, less of a  woman. That having kids and raising them is a full-time job, leave alone cleaning and maintaining a home. That sometimes all you need is a good cry without anyone saying anything but just being there while you bawl your eyes out (men, take notes).

That sometimes women need to be appreciated…no…all the time.

And the last thing we need is to destroy each other.

Look at the men.

They are always supporting each other.

Listen to a conversation involving men taking about some guy who was caught cheating with someone’s wife. You won’t even hear them berate the guy, they will look for every excuse to support the guy, moreover will even congratulate him on his conquest. And that’s when the guy is on the wrong.

But look at us women. Even  when one of us does something right, jealousy takes over and we annihilate her actions and drag her reputation through the mud.

Are we so insecure in ourselves?

If anything, let’s take a lesson from the guys. Let’s band together.

Speak well of every woman you meet.

Compliment each other.

Be there for each other.

United we will be a force to reckon with. And we all know we have something extremely special to give to the world right? Something uniquely ours.

Let’s do it. Let’s change the world. Together.

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Adultery.

We judge and sneer at those who indulge in it, but we haven’t been there…at least those of us who aren’t married. I watched (well, not the whole of it but nearly half of) a movie called Derailed starring Jennifer Aniston and Clive Owen and I saw the reality of cheating. It’s so easy to look elsewhere when home is no longer a peaceful place to be and your spouse no longer the angel you married. People have problems….sick children who drain every ounce of energy from their parents making it nearly impossible for them to have any alone time together causing their marriage to suffer. Or when one spouse is always away working. Or for whatever reason because marriage is hard work.

So you meet someone, a chance meeting even. You click, he/she gets you. She/he likes the annoying music your spouse doesn’t like. He/she gets your sense of humour that your spouse has never appreciated. He/she is a breath of fresh air; a haven amidst all the drama in your life and family.

So, as a human being, what do  you do?

You pursue happiness. You want more than you can have.

And so you keep meeting this “breath-of-fresh-air” more and more. You “work late” more and more. And the guilt increases but you’re in deep.

And  the rest as we know is history.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not advocating for cheating. I get stark raving mad when I even hear a boyfriend cheated on his girlfriend, so leave alone a spouse.

I’m just saying it can happen to any and the best of us. We are just weak and human like that. Forbidden fruit tastes sweetest.

But using the example of Adam and Eve and the forbidden fruit, what did God say to them? He told them there was a tree in the centre of the Garden of Eden and not to eat from it. He did not point at it and say “see that lovely tree over there? The one with the enticing, succulent fruit? Those fruits that look so deliciously mouth-watering? Don’t eat those.”

No.

I’m guessing they had never even seen the tree.

He just warned them not to eat from it.

So, I’m thinking, don’t go there. If it’s drama at home, get away…alone, if you must.  Don’t look around for better because, if all the stories I’ve heard and all the couples I have seen are anything to go by, adultery is never worth it.

It may be delicious at first, an adventure with all the thrill of not-getting-caught, but soon the truth all comes out and you ruin everyone’s life involved forever.

And the forbidden fruit does taste sweetest, but no one mentions the bitter aftertaste left in your mouth.

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Lesson On Employment and Unemployment
So, having been in the School of Life for the past 6 months (i.e. out of school and out in the Big Bad World),  I have realised one thing…employment sucks, and unemployment sucks equally. Indulge me for a minute: Both have an equal number of pros and cons, even though they may not be very well-balanced.

When you are unemployed, you get to have free time to reflect on your life and where you want to be, your dreams that you had let go of, what you really want from life, etc. You get to relax and unwind and rediscover the beauty of nature and the songs of the birds. You notice when the walls at the back of the living room couches needs a good scrubbing. You hone your skills and talents because you are thinking like an entrepreneur, and you actually discover what you are good at.

For those with families, you have more time for your kids and spouse. You actually listen to what they are telling you, the mundane details of their days, what their worries and stresses are…because these are more interesting than whatever you did all day.

You get to give back to the community: you can volunteer, you have time to take your friends shopping, or run their errands for them, thus building better friendships and relatonships.

The downside is that you have too much free time on your hands, you feel the pressure when everyone else is going to work and you aren’t, you feel the shame when people whisper “what a bum” behind your back, you are humiliated when it seems that everyone knows who to call for babysitting services (free of charge of course), errand-running, cleaning the car and other such tasks.

When you are unemployed, you have to keep asking for money for basic necessities from your spouse, or parents, or any other unlucky soul who can support you. Being met with irritated stares shouting “not again”, heavy sighs or blatant comments like: “what do you need that for? I gave you money yesterday!”,  gets old, fast!

Well-meaning people keep sending you job applications to places where you would never work or are even qualified to work. A marketer is told to apply for a lawyer’s job because “it’s pretty much the same thing: convincing people”.

Now, when you are employed, you have a sense of purpose. You wake up early in the morning knowing you are going where your services are needed, where you are impacting society, where you are changing someone’s life for the better. When you are employed, you have money (how much is debatable). You can self-support, you are self-sufficient, you feel confident because you have the means to support yourself and your family.

When you are employed you can have intelligent conversations about the influx of low-quality commodities in the local market and how it is affecting the high-quality production of essential goods at your company. People look up to you. People ask you for references and to “hook them up” with a job. You feel important.

Now, to the cons; employment can suck the life out of you. You forget how to have fun. Your idea of fun is sitting at your computer at lunchtime checking your Facebook. Or sleeping in on Saturday or Sunday because you woke up at ungodly hours the whole week.

Your social life disintegrates slowly. All you do is work to meet this deadline and that one. You never have time to just relax and unwind. You don’t have time to meet your friends for lunch because you have to finish that proposal for that presentation.
Being  employed at a dead-end job saps the energy out of you. You are overworked and underpaid and unmotivated. When you are employed, even in a dead-end job, everyone assumes you have a lot of money and is constantly asking you for hand-outs, or loans (optionally repayable, of course) or to be the Guest of Honor at their pre-wedding or fundraising (meaning you will contribute the most, only an amount worthy of a Guest of Honor)

My point is, it seems I can’t win both ways. I am employed and unhappy. If I get unemployed I will be unhappy.
What to do?
Start a business!
But I’m sure it has it’s own share of woes, like….ok, don’t get me started.
Bottom line: appreciate your unemployment/employment dear readers, while it lasts.

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A Lesson On Heartbreak
I’m tired of hearing it:

• You will make a wonderful wife/girlfriend for some lucky guy
• Whoever you end up with will be one lucky guy
• Don’t worry, his loss…you will meet someone better
• You are an amazing woman and you will make some guy very happy

WHEN??????!

Granted, these statements have all come from guys I rejected who later moved on, and from well-meaning friends, but that is not the point. My point is, why is everyone hooking up and I’m not? Am I too choosy, too independent, too needy, too boring, too innocent, too wild,….and the list goes on.

I’d like to console myself that we have all been there: single and longing to mingle. Everyone around you seems to be hooking up.
No more dates with the girlfriends coz they have dates with their boyfriends. Too many pitiful glances thrown your way when you talk about how lovely it is to be single.

I have been single for quite a while now and I believe I have dealt with my ghosts and baggage.
Hurt, broken, but stronger.
So I decide that I’m ready.
Ready to venture into the mysterious world of relationships and dating – The Field.

And I meet a guy, we click, talk, meet several times, go on a date.
Then…nothing.
He isn’t doing or saying anything particularly relationship-y.
He says he likes me but….nothing.

Then I find out he has a girlfriend. Who he has had for a long time but didn’t have the guts to tell me about. And he tells me when he is a million miles away, actually, after he drops large hints at her existence…all this while he is away. So I of course erase him from my life and, hurt, again, come out stronger.

He apologises and I forgive him. But he is still off limits and I know that. And I begin to wonder what I ever saw in him.
And a good friend tells me that if I forgave him that fast then I didn’t really like him that much in the first place. Hmmmmm…

See, the thing with heartbreak is that it’s like this painful toothache that you can’t get rid of unless you get the tooth removed. The tooth in this case is your heart and we both know that’s not gonna happen. I’ve had my heart broken a number of times before, and they are all the same. The only difference is the duration…how long you wallow and cry and hate men and eat ice cream and chocolate daily and cry some more. (In case of the guys, I have no idea what they do when they are heartbroken)

This one was short. It barely lasted a week. And I believe my friend. I’m thinking I didn’t really like him that much, meaning if we had hooked up I would probably be bored out of my mind by now. I dodged a bullet!

So I decide not to wallow in it and decide not to loathe all guys. I decide I will get back out there, albeit wiser. I’ll risk heartbreak again if all my past rejected lovers’ words hold any truth. That I will make an amazing wife/girlfriend for some lucky guy who will be deliriously happy to be with me is worth the risk, don’t you think?

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Recently I witnessed a most interesting sight. I was in the car with my mum and we were headed to town from somewhere quite suburban (read outskirts of Nairobi) where matatu drivers are even less courteous than those in the city centre, if that’s possible. We are used to matatus stopping in the middle of the road to pick or drop passengers, or just for the driver to enjoy the scenic view.

So it came as no surprise that one matatu was smack in the middle of the road as we were driving. The car ahead of us was being driven by a man who apparently could not take such behavior lying down. So he decided to firmly place his hand on the car horn and leave it resting there. This seemed to irk the matatu tout and the driver who of course did not move an inch. The man continued to hoot and finally drove up next to the matatu to hurl insults, I presume.

No sooner had he done this than a war of words (which I couldn’t hear, thankfully) ensued. The matatu driver proceeded to hit the man’s car with his fist several times. At this point I thought the driver of the saloon car would get out and start fighting, but he didn’t. After his car received several fist blows form the matatu driver, the matatu tout, who was on the road, opened the man’s passenger car door to challenge him to a duel or something. I don’t know what the man said but the tout proceeded to close the door and kick….yes, KICK the man’s car on the passenger side, several kicks by the way, some even on the passenger window. My mouth was agape all this time because I couldn’t believe the nerve!

On a different day, I was in a matatu with a friend. (All the drama happens in matatus, I see a trend!)
There happened to be a white man in the matatu who seemed a little off (his feet were resting almost on the passenger seat next to him) but we ignored him and continued our conversation. Soon it was time for the matatu tout to ask for fare from the passengers and no sooner had this guy been asked for his fare than he pointed his middle finger at the tout and proceeded to accuse him of trying to con him because he was white. The rest of us couldn’t understand this since we were all paying the same amount.

However he continued to rant about his troubles as a white man in Kenya and all he has to suffer. I couldn’t take it anymore and promptly got his attention and told him we were all paying the same amount. His argument was that the tout had told him a different price only to change it when he entered. I couldn’t argue with that; having not been present then and also largely aware of the fact that most touts do that anyway.

I guess this was fuel to his fire and since he had found some unsuspecting listeners, he proceeded to lay all his grievances at our feet, telling us how many women are after him thinking he is rich, but if he was rich would he be riding in a matatu?, he asked us. He kept flashing his Kenyan ID card to further prove his point. This was the first time I had met a bitter white man in Kenya. I mean they are always praising Kenyan hospitality and affability so this came as a shock.

Basically, there are very many angry people around. It’s understandable, I mean, that matatu driver and his accomplice would drive anyone mad. The white man’s grievances are also valid; I can only imagine what he has had to go through with false assumptions about his wealth.

However, thinking back on these incidents, I realized one thing: anger and rage never helped anyone. It’s just a waste of energy, really. I mean, the angry saloon driver just got a car battering for all his road rage and, mind you, the tout and matatu driver didn’t give a hoot about him. They probably laughed all the way to town.

The disgruntled white man, after complaining and proceeding to insult the tout, got dropped at the wrong stage, all because he was not courteous to the tout despite not knowing his way around Nairobi very well (which begs the question of his Kenyan citizenship for five or so years, as he claimed, but I digress).

If you have road rage, matatu rage, tout rage, bad-customer-service rage, people-bumping-into-you-in-town-when-you-are-in-a-hurry rage, you need anger management techniques. Breathe deeply and close your eyes for ten seconds. Think happy thoughts. Go to your happy place. Or just enroll for anger management classes.
I know I will!

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Ever been frustrated?
Frustration is when one the heels on your gorgeous shoes snaps off as you are walking elegantly on the street amidst admiring male glances and envious female ones, which quickly turn to ones of pity and amusement.

Frustration is when you are at the supermarket queue and one of your items is suddenly three times what you thought it was worth and you have to tell the cashier to deduct the item, causing hold-ups at the counter as the cashier calls the head cashier to unlock and enter some code thingamajig so he can deduct it. This is all amid sneers and snide comments from the shoppers on the queue behind you.

Or when you thought it was Terrific Tuesday at Galito’s and invited your girls for an afternoon of catching up while munching on delicious pizza slices (your treat, of course), only to get there and find the offer is over.

Sadly, all the above have happened to me.The last happened to my friend but I was one of the girls getting the treat. Yeah….that didn’t go so well.

Frustration is an everyday occurrence. And what I just wrote here are the best ones. As in, the least frustrating incidences (you can only imagine what I’ve been through)

So what did I do?
For scenario one, I just continued walking (not so elegantly), got into the first matatu I could get, stumbled home and threw the shoes to the back of my closet where moth and dust shall surely destroy.

For the second scenario, I just ignored everyone, quickly popped a rock CD into my brain’s CD player and even proceeded to shake my head to the music, imagining the other shoppers stares (I couldn’t see them, I was too busy enjoying my “music”)

I can’t remember what I did for the pizza mishap, something about shaking my fist at the Galitos (then Nandos) staff and feeling sorry for my friend, but even sorrier for myself at having no pizza.

Anyway, frustrations will come and go. It’s part of life, sadly. Just grin and bear it. You’ll laugh about it one day. See, I’m laughing at mine, inside. I’m laughing on the inside.

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“What’s with women and shoes?” a frequent question asked by my male friends.

Seriously?

How can they even ask that?!

The thing is, shoes define a woman. The classier, the better. The more unique, the more impressive. Hence the seemingly endless search for the perfect pair, and a tremendous accumulation of other near-perfect pairs in the process.

A pair of shoes can transform a boring, plain outfit into a striking ensemble. It can transform a normal gait into a stately walk, reminiscent of a supermodel on a catwalk.

Most importantly, shoes, good ones, give a woman confidence. She stands up straighter, walks majestically and generally feels good about herself. And as we all know, confidence is what really brings out the woman’s inner beauty. Confidence is attractive, and every lady wants to be and feel attractive.

Not just any old pair of shoes will do. It has to be “in”, classy, stylish. High heels are preferred. They tend to look classier and bring out the woman’s figure and posture better than low heels.

Comfort is not the issue. The look is what’s important.

I have heard several snickers behind palms: “How is she able to walk in those heels? Why would she do that to herself?”

She does it because she can! Power to the shoe-loving woman!

So, the next time you see women crowded in a little shop furtively trying on shoes, don’t judge. They are merely in a valid search for self-actualization. Or something.

Aren’t we all?

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Okay, actually this happens to me nearly everyday. Here is the typical scenario: A woman is patiently and innocently waiting for a matatu. Out of the blue, five touts come rushing toward her, seemingly from nowhere. She has barely been watching her surroundings; so lost is she in her own little world.

Suddenly she is grabbed by her arms, shoulders, hands, and even her poor tired legs. Her first thought: “Oh no! I’m being kidnapped! What was that I saw on CSI? Pepper spray…nope. Kick the attacker…” But alas! Her legs have been grabbed!

Slowly she snaps out of her reverie and hears: “Madam, thirty bob! Thirty bob!”. She cannot free herself from their grip. She ends up being dragged into the matatu with the strongest tout.

That’s kidnapping if you ask me. I mean, being grabbed without your consent, then dumped forcefully into a strange vehicle? Why can’t they just sell their services (they can yell all they want) and leave poor law-abiding citizens alone? Like I said, this happens to me nearly every day.

So I have started coming up with a few remedies or tactics, if you may. So far, they have been 50% effective 50% of the time. (Hey, I’m a woman against five or so strong men, cut me some slack!)

• Always carry an mp3 player and listen to it when at the matatu stop (your radio-enhanced phone will also do). This gives the illusion that you couldn’t care less about what the touts are saying. Your player may be off; it doesn’t matter since they can’t hear it. It would help to bop your head to the “music” and have a faraway look in your eyes.
  Disclaimer: this will not prevent forceful grabbing but it will prevent further conversation and forceful “pleading” by the touts
• Be very adept at flinging your arms every which way when touched. This will show the touts that you are a fighter who won’t take kidnapping lying down. It will also buy you some time as you analyze your attackers’ strength and ability and come up with an on-the-spot getaway plan.
• Have a stern look on your face when approaching the matatu stop. It may not prevent “kidnapping” but it will buy you time as the touts rush towards the peaceful-faced happy-looking victims
• Speak harshly with a slight (or exaggerated) sneer. This is effective as touts are generally afraid of confrontation and embarrassment.
  Disclaimer: only do this if you are sure the cute guy in your neighborhood doesn’t use the same stop as he may see your sneer and vicious behavior and avoid you for the rest of your life
• Stand discreetly next to a burly man at the stop. The touts may mistakenly think that you are together. Even if they don’t, they may avoid you for fear that the man may get irritated and come to your defense.

If any of these points worked for you, please let me know…so I can try them too!

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My dear aunt, out of concern (or over-concern) about the state of my rash-filled face, offered me some advice: (First, some drama) “What are these on your face? Didn’t I tell you to be cleansing it? What products do you use?”

(Then, after my meek explanations) “You have a dinner this week and you can’t go like this! Okay, don’t panic. (Who’s panicking??) Just go and apply a milk mask.”

My best friend interjected at this point. “Or yogurt. You could try yogurt.”
Enter my dear aunt again. “No, yogurt is processed so it’s not ideal. Just apply milk on your face at night and let it dry.”

Excitedly, me: “Then I wash it off?” (I’m just not a big fan of milk). My aunt, again, “No, silly. You keep it on overnight, then wash it off in the morning.” (Euuuww, seriously??)

I answered, “OK.”

As I thought about my big-deal dinner and my not-so-presentable face, I decided to try this miracle-cure of hers. I duly applied the milk on my face, waited for it to dry and went to bed, veeeeery skeptical about the whole thing.

In the morning I woke up, my face was feeling taut and dry. I washed off the mask and, what do you know, my face was noticeably smoother and felt brighter! Really, just milk? I asked myself.

So I did it again for the rest of the week and my face continued to improve. Arguably, by the date of the dinner it was looking better than it had in weeks.

So, go ahead, try it. It works. But of course, give it a few weeks.

Oh, and listen to your aunts. They have a wealth of experience and advice (well, not always good advice, but advice all the same)

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