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The Diary Of A Fat Naija Chic | Episode 9

So the d



Mtsheww.


2 hours later, I bid him farewell but not before I got enough kisses that could last a lifetime. #wink.


**********************************************************************************

Flash forward to the present, after I replied the mysterious ‘FXY_GAL’ on Instagram, I decided to browse through my twitter account since I was still tired and needed absolute rest- oh how I was deceiving myself as my Blood pressure was about to shoot up as fear was by far an illusion. Just as I was surfing through tweets, posts and direct messages, I found a strangely familiar person here again but this time the handle was ‘FXY_GAL22’ and she left a tweet cc’ing (tagging) me in it… the tweet simply read “hmmmm”; no further comment, no extra message; nothing… just ‘hmmmm


Egbami!


Who could this person be and what was with this new founded affiliation? Why was she stalking me through every social media possible? This had to stop, I just need to find out who this new stalker was. For heaven sakes, I know I am sexy but really, a female stalker? Bitch please, I am straight not gay; stop stalking my sexy fat ass!


As much as I wanted to make light of the situation, I knew deeply that something was terribly wrong somewhere and my new relationship didn’t give my conscience any less guilt!

I quickly called Onome and pinged Jemila, I needed to inform someone about this new development so at least someone could have an idea where to locate my corpse or at least, know the reason behind my death. Unfortunately for me, the girls dismissed it as guilty conscience and coincidence, simply trying to put my fears to rest- I assume.


Relax jhare, drama queen, na cos say your heart no pure na, na ein make you dey think sey person wan fry your fat ass” Jemila had teased.


Just fast, pray and beg God for forgiveness” Onome advised.


If only these girls knew how fast my heart was beating, they wouldn’t be telling me all this super stories about ‘unpure hearts’ and prayers. Since no one was going to take me serious, in the words of my dead village king;

“I had to save my self by myself”- Oba Aiyakoshiwa.

So I finally decided to create a new instagram account and follow her, with hopes that she would follow back on instagram and thereby I could penetrate her ‘privacy’ restrictions which were preventing me from viewing her pictures. In order for me to achieve this, I needed to use a new sim card- I was of course not familiar with this new payback stalking business so I didn’t want to leave any trace(s) whatsoever- James Bond style (“*&^*&^%$#@”, screaming something in Chinese). So, I had to go out to the nearby store to purchase the new spy kit- a sim card.


Dear Diary, have you ever tried walking through an aisle in a store and just feel a pair of eyes permanently gazing at you? How you feel the eyes peering through your soul and spirit almost like a horror movie clip… And just when you swiftly turn around with the hopes of nabbing the person staring; just at that same point, no matter how fast you think your neck could swerve- like ‘baaam’- you still never catch anyone! It’s always either you are 2 milli-milli-milli seconds late or maybe the person is simply like the cartoon character, ‘flash’!


Because really, I did turn my head faster than anyone could ever turn- even faster than it takes Tuface to conceive a bastard child! But unfortunately, it just wasn’t fast enough to nab a certain woman who was also window-shopping at the opposite end of the aisle, I swear I caught her staring through the peripheral of my eyes! I guess she was playing ‘too-smart-for-nabs’ with me, so I decided to just confront the situation by giving her a stare-down (watching her intently without blinking or turning my head elsewhere)…


The dance of the African buffalo versus the staring ant had commenced… who was going to emerge winner!

‘When buffalo’s go to war with ants, the ants and the ground must be trampled upon’- My village king (Oba Aiyakoshiwa).

I decided to start taking slow paces round the aisle, still watching her intently… walk, stare, walk, stare… like in the American western movies duo style. She must have noticed it as she raised her head up, slowly, almost too slow for cool (Fredy Kruger style almost)…


*IMAGINE THIS IN SLOW MOTION*


she raised her head up and our eyes met, a frown immediately formed round my face as I watched a similar expression grow on her face too.


Ehen, aunty can I help you?” an idiotic bolder side of mine decided to confront her.

Irritated, she turned around to look at her side, as if wanting to confirm if I was really talking to her or not…


Me?” she asked with a smirk on.


Noooo! Me!” I answered, sarcastically.


Mmmmmmmmmmmtttttssssssssshhhhhhhhhhheeeeeeeeeewwww” she gave an elongated hiss and just continued to pretend like she was still window-shopping.


See me see this obirin look-look oh, I caught you staring!” I screamed at her, too embarrassed to let her just walk away and make me seem like a bluffing hippo.


Look, respect yourself here oh” she replied wide-eyed.


…If only eyes could kill.


It is you that needs to respect herself… what rubbish????” mad scared, I pretended to still be the boss; hoping to scare her down because of my size.


hum hummm… warn yourself oh” she said, approaching me confidently.



*TRUE CONFESSION TIME*


Dear diary, may I fully state that ‘the size of a woman doesn’t reflect the size of her heart or courage as I had almost peed my pant!


Back to my gist, I was already quivery so hard; I could feel my legs melt into jelly beneath me.


This woman wasn’t smiling oh and it seemed I had backed the wrong horse as she confidently stepped forward, right in my face, daring me to utter any more nonsense from my mouth.


Warn who- don’t try me oh, I would just sit on your-” I was cut short with a threat.


On my what?” then she took a 360-spin, Yoruba gangster style.


“Haaa! Sister! Eehhhn! Someone warn this woman oh! Ehnnn! I would just ehnnn!” I threatened, stylishly taking steps backwards, with hopes of escaping this tigress which I had mistakenly angered.


Wot his hiiiit?” A fat Yoruba woman- a passerby I think- stepped in to my rescue.

Seeing that I had a new excuse to add two extra giant steps backwards, I decided to make the best out of it by uttering threats whilst doing so, so no one would decipher my escape plan.


Madam, thank God you are here oh!… warn this person oh” during the duration of this short sentence, I was 4 giant paces away from her; pointing and screaming louder and louder as I moved back for protection.


Took it hiseeeey” the intervener scolded me, firing my ginger to make further empty threats.

From nowhere, a whole crowd of about 15 gbe-gborun’s had emerged, trust lagosians na, for some reason or the other; they had this strange smile at the side of their lips… maybe it’s just really strange to see a fat hippo threatening and hopping around, in attempts to scare an ant-sized women or probably they could just see beyond my bluff…


Putting my hands into two large fists, I kept on punching the air and bouncing up and down; moving from back to front and from side to side… Bash Ali tinz, hippo style.


ha! I can see you want to fight today… orobo-olodo oshi” she insulted me.


Omo see fight oh!!!” I heard someone in the audience cheer happily, gingering me to hop around more, giving my audience a better show.


Before I could anymore, I felt a sharp painful shove in my arm.


Mayday mayday maday… The hippo has been hit’ I heard all the alarms in my heart blaring off.


“As the night fell in fat-kingdom, the hippo fell like a sack of watermelons” in the voice of Chinua Achebe, I heard a voice mock in my head just as I was falling backwards, struggling against gravity.



TO BE CONTINUED…


Join me next Monday, to get the full gist of what happened to moi, the lazy bouncing hippo-wrestler. lols.

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