When i was in primary school, one of my favorite books was ‘the girl who laughed’ I loved that book so much I’d read it over and over again till i could tell the story word for word without actually reading it…'there was a girl whose name was Alice, she had a red flower in her hair…' bla bla bla, ok, I admit I’ve forgotten the whole word for word bit but it pretty much started out that way. the cover of the book had a smiling girl with perfect white teeth wearing a yellow polka dot outfit with a red rose stuck in her hair.
Basically, Alice was this beautiful girl, so beautiful that men from far and near came to ask her hand in marriage, Alice would have none of them, she'd laugh in their face as she rejected them, there was always an excuse, he's too tall, too short, too thin, too fat, too poor, too ugly, and in our day it'd have been, he’s not posh, he didn’t graduate from an ivy league school, he doesn’t own a Mercedes, seriously? he doesn’t know who Donatella Versace is, i hate the way he smells...you get the gist?. Alice picky nature got tongues wagging and made her parents worry with thoughts that their precious beautiful daughter would never find a husband…
And just as all hope was getting lost, the perfect man came along…omg, he was all that and more, you know, lovely eyes, perfect height, baritone Barry white kind of voice, rich, well dressed, basically the whole tall, dark, and handsome bit, and he drove a Porsche, added to that he had front roll access to all the fashion shows from new York to Paris to Milan, he even dined with Donatella, and maybe he was even head of the most popular sorority in Yale, and oh did i mention the private jet:) (well he would have been all that if it was in today’s settings and not some village)
Well, he had all that and even more. Alice tripped bad, she tripped, she fell, no one could get her up, and so the beautiful stranger, the man of her dreams whisked her away to la la land. But first, before getting there, he had to make a few stops with his new beautiful and blushing bride, from house to house in different villages he returned borrowed items, she was freaked out as he returned items from shoes, to eye balls to hands and nails and legs and feet and even the vocal cord….everything, till it was just his skull left ,and then he rolled with a frightened bride into the forest where he lived….(think banks repossessing the jets, the cars, the villas in rio,paris and italy, freezing the swiss accounts, thus no money for the professional hair dyeing thus all the grey hair come to play, without the custom made perfumes, he stinks like shit, the smiles turn to scowls and with no money for the gym , you become the boxing bag for his muscles:) and moving into a trailer park). she got what she wanted, a perfect man, except he wasn’t perfect, just a wise man, he borrowed from different people to get the perfect picture of what she wanted. and poor dear beautiful Alice ended up with nothing, nothing but an empty skull….
its amazing how that story written so many years ago for primary school kids holds so much lessons in real life.
Dunno why I was drawn to the story, but what I know is some days I feel like poor Alice, and there are loads of ladies out there who have laughed for so long and ended up with skulls. A friend of a friend in Abuja left her husband 2 months after the wedding, he wasn’t what he seemed to be, dude was a fraudster, a friends sister after such a showy wedding found out hubby was in the occult, as in the whole blood money deal….and there’s more of these stories around me,
I don’t want to end up with a skull like Alice, but I’m still the girl who laughs,
i read this book "the mrs club" by Ekene Onu, its got this slogan which says 'at early 20's you are put in the front window and marked for sale, then when you're about 26, the mark you 50% off, 75% off when you're 28 and then when you're 30, the sign is changed to 'all goods must go'. I don't agree with her although its a catchy line.
I still gats to laugh sha, I will not hold back my laughter out of desperation. I refuse to compromise out of fear. Perfection might only exist in my dreams, but there's someone out there who's tailor made for me. I'm not perfect thus he's been made to suite my imperfections. he'll be my imperfectly perfect man.