Excuse Me

I just read a post about someone asking people to say excuse me and not move her out the way by holding her waist. As I read it I smiled and thought if only that were my problem.

Years ago, I noticed the little children I volunteered with found the only way to get my attention was to pat my bum. Not my side, not my thigh and not my lower back. No, only a tap or two on the bum would suffice.
I was standing in a cue on the NYSC camp grounds one day and as a believer in personal space I left a bit of space between myself and the person in front of me. Well the person behind me wasn’t having any of that. When they couldn’t take it anymore, this human being decided to cup my bum and gently thrust me forward. As in the person placed their hands just below my bum, lifted it and pushed me forward!! I was stunned, is he mad? He has not met a mad person yet! As I spun round to give him a filthy slap, I froze when I saw my molester. It was a girl. She looked at me and said “sista shift front nah”. Something broke in me as I “shifted” forward knowing I had been a victim of girl on girl violence.
For those who don’t know, I was born built like the Hottentot Venus, small waist, thick thighs, high bum. Those were the glory days. After child birth I turned into the Michelin Man’s cousin from Ijebu. Everything is now folding and rolling.
Well, our little Eddie doesn’t deem me fit to pat me on the bum like those who went before him. He doesn’t even push me. No, my baby believes to show affection and get my attention, he will take, with both hands, the roll of flesh that was once my tummy and press it like dough while smiling and giggling.

And someone said don’t touch my waist…

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