As I sit here, my heart is
knotting. I could not be getting a heart attack. No. I haven’t got my period in
two months. As if this matters. I could be pregnant but then there is not much historical
evidence to back this claim. Someone just walked in with groceries; I asked if
he needed help. He said that is the general consensus of everyone he meets. I
figured he did not need any help. Or did I deduce that wrong? I am not getting
up seeing as he is smiling at me as if saying, ‘I know you were just being
polite. You are not getting your butt off that seat.’ Well thought pal. Not a
cheek off here.
I love my body. Since I started
using moya oil on my body I can’t get over caressing myself. If I said Shea butter the effect of this oil
diminishes. In my country people use Moya oil for food; meaning that most of
the time these days I smell like Ugandan food with Moya in it. One of my
friends thinks this is the reason I get checked out by a lot by men around here. I
see them look at me and many times I want to walk over and ask, “Is there a
problem?” Thing is she thinks they find me attractive. I think otherwise. I
think they are all a bunch of racists. I know for sure, I trust my judgment.
I think Jesse McCartney sings
of me when he sings 'Body Language' because am starting to think the thing behind
me is amazing. I am in love with Shakira's ‘hips do not lie’ which is my
inspiration for taking belly dancing classes. The stories hips can tell I want
mine to tell. So here is to belly dancing and evoking my hips to say things.
