Sometimes, Titles Are the Toughest Part

Another woman said yes today. But, not to worry, like the countless women who have said yes in the past, this was not my woman.

Why was it not my woman this time, you may ask? Well, I have many guesses. The easiest of my guesses proposes that my luck succumbs to destiny.

This reminds me of the wise man that confirmed the imminent end of hunger in the world. His words translate to “we shall all eat breakfast.”, or more originally, “gbogbo wa la ma je breakfast.”

A thought broke out of my mind today. In the past 2 years, there have been changes in my body — you could say I have become thick. Boya, this makes the people serving the breakfast think I have eaten for 5.

Of course, I would not blame them. I once had a stint of gluttony at a classmate’s wedding early-2017. It may have seemed like gluttony then, but in all honesty, it was a survival mechanism. Eat as much as you can, for you do not know when the next meal will come.

I imagine there’s an angel that records our dietary habits, and the angel shares the result with the people serving the breakfast. You get a strike every time you eat excessively or morbidly. Each person gets a personalized metric that guides how the angels record their eating habits (this arrangement seems really fair). Then when your strikes get to a certain score, you get some kind of disease that requires dietary adjustments and stuff.

In hindsight, I’d have to figure out how this story changed course. How it was supposed to highlight my woes as I search for love and companionship. How it ended up being a subtle warning against poor dietary habits.

Adeyomola

If you cut me, I may bleed the colors of the days in August.