The Forehead Kiss...

I’ve been kissed twice on my forehead. The first time was by my Ghanaian lesson teacher after my last lesson for the holiday before I went back to school. I must have been 13 then. I escorted him to the get a taxi home and before we parted he kissed me on the forehead, I think I must have walked home in a daze not knowing what to think of it. I can’t even remember his name but he was a really slim, really dark skinned man with a snoop dog grin and a very long pinkie finger nail. I couldn’t understand why he kept that finger nail so long. It gave him this weird look. I had always had a math phobia so my parents thought I needed extra lessons. He thought me math for that holiday. Yes I remember it was the beginning of form three the year we take the junior secondary exams. Well that was the first time I was kissed on my forehead.

The second time was yesterday (sic Tuesday). Yesterday just as I was about to get into my car after a night out with Kene. I don’t know whether or not it was the three shots of baileys that gave me the giggles but it sure did feel good. For a split second, I closed my eyes and I felt it tingle from my head to tiny toe. It sure did feel good. It just felt safe.

Let me tell you the implications of that first kiss on my forehead. I remember parts of it vividly. When I went back to school that term, I worked very hard. I wanted to impress my lesson teacher after all the effort we had put in that holiday. Although I couldn’t really articulate my feelings at the time. It’s since dawned on me that I was experiencing a peculiar crush. I don’t know how exactly I interpreted the kiss on the forehead but all of a sudden I was being very diligent about my math. I was working very hard at it and I wanted to impress someone. I did better that term. For the first time my math grades were up from a measly 49% to 69% and so I wrote him a letter. A light enough letter thanking him for his help and the obvious positive results it yielded. The good old letter writing days. A few weeks later his reply came in the post. I was ecstatic. I got a letter! I didn’t get many in those days, I guess I didn’t write many either. I opened it with great enthusiasm. I was smiling as I read through it and I was still smiling till I got to a certain paragraph. Now I can’t remember the exact words but he was saying something about liking me as a person but that he thought I needed to lose some weight. The next sentence went something like…’it is not like I cannot cope with obesity, it’s just that…’ I think I tore up the letter, yes I remember I was so upset that I tore it to pieces and decided to forget about him. It’s funny now but I think I did. I had heard a lot of words to describe me; baby fat, cute, chubby, aje butter, fatty bum bum, obrokoto Nigerian foot ball, Nigerian banana, Fatima but I just hadn’t heard it like that. . It was the first time I had actually seen or heard the word obesity making reference to me. As a young teenager I think the words were just too heavy (no pun intended) for me to deal with. That was my first recorded occurrence of a rejection from a male based on my weight.

The weight never left me, or should I say I never left the weight. Somehow we learned to live amicably. I can see that slim is in but I have never been slim. Today, I look at myself honestly and I think sexy gal. I look at myself in the mirror and I think cute! Something weird has happened; more and more I feel beautiful. Sometimes I think its down to experience and age. I feel as you get older you lose your shame. You get comfortable with being you; well if you don’t feel comfortable, I feel you should, life is too short. I just want to be comfortable in whatever I wear and however I look. I am told I dress well so at least I am sure I don’t look frumpy. Countless times I have been told I am pretty. A fine girl is a fine girl o. When I look in the mirror that’s what I see now, sexy gal!

I thought we were on the subject of the kiss on the forehead. I have read it’s also known as the motherly/fatherly kiss. The kind you get from someone who cares for you but not in the romantic sense. Ehm…ok yes it felt good. I got into my car, went home and I slept well.

Life is just an interesting place, not knowing what tomorrow holds I think is the best and the worst thing about life. It’s not great for planning but it's what keeps me going; not knowing what exciting things are going to happen each day. Today is looking exciting already.

May we all learn to love ourselves and each other selflessly.