There was a girl born in a time when women were stigmatized for being fat.
With great care from loving parents who only wanted their bundle of joy to be healthy ( because unwittingly they thought fat meant health), they nurtured her from a fat baby who sucked her thumb to a chubby toddler to a plump adolescent.
Then puberty happened. She got bigger and sweatier with a lot of pimples on her face. For some reason she could not explain, she matured faster than her age.
When most girls in her class did not know what a brassiere was, she wore one.
When almost every other person in class had not heard the word 'menstruation' she wore a sanitary towel.
But the girl did well for herself. This was imperative after much jeering and jesting from the cruel boys and being isolated and called ugly by the girls who thought they were trim and in shape.
She turned to books for solace thereby shutting every other person out.
She had no idea what the harsh and uncouth treatments of other kids did to her self esteem.
It was butchered.
Mutilated.
Nothing reasonable was left of it.
Her only friends were fictional characters. The only time she smiled was when they said or did something funny.
Without knowing it she was becoming mentally formidable.
Her mind had become a weapon.
She was wiser than her age and was easily the best student in class and this made most of them hate her more.
Things began to change in high school, senior year.
Boys began to make advances. She did not know how to react because of her battered self esteem.
From her numerous reading adventures she learnt to exercise and eat properly and even take green tea like her fictitious Chinese friends. She did not realize how beautiful she had become.
The place was Nigeria.
The girl was me.
Photo credit: chubbymadness.
When the boys came, she didn't know how to react.
She thought it was still part of the plot to ridicule her so she hid herself away.
They began to say she was proud. She was feeling like she was better than the rest of them.
That was how she went from being isolated to being hated to being misunderstood.
When Lotanna came to her in the university, all with pure love in his heart for her.
She couldn't see beyond her low self esteem.
She broke his heart so badly that the poor young man left reluctantly.
She could write.
She wrote.
She hid all her articles away.
Never showed anyone.
She tried everytime to publish them or enter into essay competitions but she backed out at every dying minute.
She met Jidenna.
Who abused her physically and emotionally.
Yet again.
And she fell into his trap.
One day, he found all her essays and notes.
He deviced a wicked scheme and published them under his name.
He made a shitload of money from the deal he made with the publishing house.
She found out.
Made a weak threat to expose him.
She knew she was bluffing.
He knew she was bluffing.
He hurt her more.
Made her write.
More.
He got richer.
One day, she opened her wrist after leaving a suicide note for Jidenna.
She couldn't take it anymore.
She regretted being weak.
Not standing up for herself.
She was tired.
She wanted to rest forever.
Jidenna hid the note.
Took all the money.
Disappeared into thin air.
She went to the grave with her battered self esteem and regret.
Nobody ever knew.
Nobody has to know.
But I want you to know.