Real men used to wear pink, now they wear waist trainers
Hola peeps.
Happy new year. I am so embarrassed to be writing now ‘cos it’s
been so long and scared to check when last I published a blog. Hold on…it’s
February last year! Damn, talk about procrastination! I assumed it was August
or something like that. I sincerely apologize, i.e., if anyone still reads
this. I promise to do better this year. My new year resolution is to publish at
least one blog every month and to finally learn Juba Arabic.
Speaking of procrastination, I included that as one of the items
I struggle with in a form a therapist friend sent to me. I wasn’t keen to see
her but while talking about breakup with EJ – more on that later – and my fear
of commitment she proposed a session. Prior to that, she suggested I
complete the questionnaire as part of the Rapid Transformation Therapy®
(RTT®) she practices. Had never heard of RTT before, but the questionnaire
had me intrigued(?) Is that the word I am looking for? Among the “areas
of concern” I selected were compulsive behaviour, procrastination, and relationships.
I also selected “hair growth” just to yank her chain. Yup, this RTT claims to
help with that, fertility, skin problems, hearing, sight….I could go on and on.
Reminds me of those elixirs purporting to cure all ills that were hawked in
public transportation in Nigeria.
On the form I was also asked about past and current health
problems, and during first session when I mentioned diabetes I was assured RTT
could cure that as well. Colour me sceptical. I should not have doubted ‘cos
when I saw the bill for the proposed 8 sessions spread over 2 months my hair
nearly grew back from the shock; works out to be almost $400 per session. A part of me is thinking I’d live with my issues while the other wants to undergo
the program just so I’d have stuff to write to y’all about. To be honest, with
all that’s gone on since last time I blogged I doubt I’d lack for material. For
instance, I had knee surgery in August after I tore my ACL playing football.
This occurred in March I think, or was it end of February? The doctor I saw in
Juba said it was just a muscle sprain and after a month of no relief and leg
swelling my sister the doctor suggested I see an orthopedic surgeon to ensure
it wasn’t blood clots. An Xray and MRI confirmed the ACL tear. So why did it
take so long from diagnosis to surgery? I…..nah, I am all over the place. So
much information not enough fingers to type. Best start with the present and
work my way back in further blogs. Yeah, that might work best.
So today is January 16th, 2022, and it’s been 6 days since
I arrived from Nigeria. Wait, my alarm just went off to remind me it’s 9pm, which
means time to get myself in order so I am in bed with the lights out and all
devices shut before 10pm. Not sure I have adhered to this target more than once
since I stopped running in Feb/March last year, though I still set my wake-up
alarm for 5am on days of the week when I used to run mornings. Why? Maybe RTT®
would get to the bottom of it.
I got out of the Juba airport at 9am, dropped bags at home, then
went to the office to review tender documents that were due to be submitted
before noon. Returned home and planned to work from there for rest of the week
but had several meetings in the office, so that target never panned out as well.
Maybe that’s a good thing, i.e., being busy and away from the house, because on
the day I arrived I had time on my hands after unpacking and napping so decided to
shave. Didn’t take regular clipper along with me to Lagos over the Xmas break,
so as is the norm I select nose trimmer first to tidy up nostril hair and hair
on the helix and tragus – thank you Google - parts of the ear. Then, I
work on facial hair, armpit hair (if any) and pubes (if any). It was while on
the latter things got interesting(?) Is that the word I am looking for?
No better way to say this than to just be blunt and rip off the metaphorical
band-aid. Speaking of, I wish I had actual band-aid at the time ‘cos instead of
stopping just before the shaft I decided to clear hair from underside of scrotum and
that’s when I musta cut a vein or something ‘cos blood poured and poured and
poured.
My head started thinking of all the first-aid classes I had
attended or medical procedurals watched on TV. Former school of thought if one had
a nosebleed was to tilt head backwards but then that rule was altered to
prevent blood from going to the brain; what does one do with a bleeding
scrotum? I couldn’t suspend legs up ‘cos that would not help as scrotum
naturally hangs down and with it hanging down I am losing blood. With no
band-aid I MacGyver-ed bog roll and rubber-band in thirty-second effort
- yes, I counted – to staunch the bleeding. Glancing at entire set-up in the
mirror made my privates look like a caryatid. Can’t get that picture outta your
head? Well, multiply that by ten ‘cos it looked much worse.
Tried to distract myself from intense pain (caused by rubber
band wrapped around balls) by working, nah pretending to work, on laptop but
gave up after 14 mins and 23 seconds – yes, I timed it. If you think maneuvering
a rubber band around ball sack is complicated and painful, try un-maneuvering
it. If I fail to have more kids now you know why. My voice was an octave higher
for nearly a minute so much so I couldn’t pick up a call from a mate, and due
to aforementioned procrastination problem I failed to return the call. So,
imagine how embarrassed and apologetic I was when we bumped into each other at
a supermarket earlier today.
Bleeding continued unabated after I finally extricated rubber
band with some pieces of hair, so I sat on the bog and thought of my life as
blood turned the white veneer crimson. I wondered how if I hadn’t eaten I’da
used blood to test fasting sugar level with a glucometer. Thought of how weird
my autopsy would be; do I leave a note to say I wasn’t trying to kill myself
and was too chicken to slice wrists so chose scrotum instead? Or do I find a
way to reshape this as the last piece of performance art of an undervalued
genius? Hey, ever been in the loo so long you forgot whether you wiped your
butt or not? That happened to me last week.
Drats, it’s 1024pm already. Uh oh, another missed goal. Gotta hurry up this story then. After over 2hrs of bleeding - I swear I musta lost more blood from scrotum than during entire knee surgery - sixty-third effort finally slowed bleeding after I dabbed wound with talc and covered it with a paste made of nine-parts talc and one-part sheabutter. Phew.
As evidence we are
definitely living in the Matrix as soon as I went online I got hit with
an ad for Manscaped. Felt awful Big Brother
was taking advantage of my pain to sell products until I discovered they offer the
Crop Preserver®, an anti-chafing ball deodorant, and the Crop Reviver®,
a ball spray toner. I never knew I ever needed these in my life, but I am
getting them. Better use of my funds than RTT if you ask me. I reckon if I commit
to choosing me and showing up for me strongly, and truly “trust the process” I’d
make extra moolah as a balls’ model. Do those even exist? If they don’t, I am
gonna pioneer that genre.
Tot ziens and God bless.