For many years I’ve kept this secret, but I’m now ready to get out of the closet and reveal that I am straight. Yes, heterosexual.
I know, I know, it’s controversial for a woman to be straight nowadays, but I’ll try to cope with the discerning looks from passersby when I walk hand in hand with a man and I’ll try not to surprise anyone by revealing that I find men can be fascinatingly attractive.
Hear me out, I’m not patronising lesbians. In fact, I’m writing this post partly because I can’t stand it when people do, and partly because I wanted to pull a Ricky Martin and reveal an obvious sexual status.
And I truly don’t mean to sound like a broken record, I already blogged about female pop stars getting naked so I’ll say this quickly. I can’t fucking believe this video. In my opinion, it’s so disrespectful to bona fide lesbians who find women attractive in REAL life and not just as performing clowns, and also as I stated in a tweet yesterday, I find controversy for the sake of controversy (rather than actually having something to say) distasteful.
Thank GOD I don’t have kids.
How do you possibly prevent your kids from being badly influenced by pop culture??
Speaking of kids, I found this column by Sasha Slater refreshingly frank. Admitting that becoming a mother, as spiritually and emotionally mind blowing as it must be, also can be a bit of a trial is what I’d consider the first step towards actually creating a social structure that’s beneficial to mothers.
Sometimes I wonder whether God, or whatever created me, forgot to set the alarm on my biological clock. It’s not this god’s fault of course, it is in fact that both the 30something-babieless-single-woman-in-state-of-panic and 30-something-mother/careerwoman/wife-can-do-it-all-woman frighten the shit out of me and there seems to be no other options.
Jokes aside, I find there is something very soothing about my Afropolitan experience and my being from, and relating to, such different worlds.
Earlier this year in Nigeria, my family and I followed out tradition of morning prayers with an Imam. At one point the Imam paused to translate the Arabic prayers to me. Turns out, we had all just prayed for Allah to bless me with children this year.
Somehow, although my life here in London is miles from those precious but nevertheless pseudo-Islamic moments of mine, I find myself wondering, if things really were as simple and natural as a prayer, would I be waking up early to feed the kids, rather than hitting snooze on both my BB and my biological clock?
I’ve noticed that even here, in the blogosphere, there seems to be less communication between the many mom-blogs and those blogs written by baby-less women. Don’t we need to bridge the gap between mothers and non-mothers?—
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