Day 3- Introduce Yourself with Your writing bio

Yesterday, I promised to finish the story from Day 2, so I did that first. So here it is:
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Today wasn't any different from all other Saturdays. My son and I were going grocery shopping and he wanted to sit on my shoulders. I thought more of it as weighted cardio than risky behaviour since it was something we'd done before. Plus we lived on the third floor; it wasn't supposed to be a long trip down. Somewhere between focusing on keeping him balanced on my shoulders and teaching him to say "ma-ma", I missed the snow puddle on the step and slipped.

We slipped. Both of us had this fall. I didn't just throw him down the stairs. Why would anyone even think that?

I think I should have said "we slipped" right from the first time I told the story rather than I slipped. But the social worker assigned to me didn't believe it. Neither did Mark-  my best friend turned sperm donor-who was then trying to get custody of a son he had grudgingly agreed to father.
To everyone, I was just the psycho trying to get rid of my extremely light skinned son. Yes, I'd initially whined a lot about how recessive my genes seemed to be in my son's physical appearance.

 I was a single mum by choice, but every time my baby and I went out, I'd get asked about his father. How fair skinned he must be, how jealous I must be that he took his father's looks, and either how happy I must be that he wasn't "so dark" or how I must be praying that the "next one" looked like me. No I wasn't happy or sad that he wasn't as dark-skinned as I am. I was aware of this possibility when I asked Mark (a quarter cast) to be my sperm donor.  I'm as dark as a black person can possibly be- like the kind where with the lights off, only my teeth and eyeballs glow- but comfortably so.  I had indeed thought my baby would be some shade between his biological father's and mine, but when he turned out looking more Mark, I let it be.

Why the heck would that be a thing to be happy or sad about? I thought it absurd that anyone would expect me to think of him differently or assume that I'd be less content with a son that looked just like me: "You must be happy that he isn't so dark". I know of the "team light skin" trend on Instagram and Twitter - a form of segregation of shades of blackness- lighter skin being the preference. Yeah, just when one thought the bleaching cream era was over. But as an ex-model who was constantly sought when sets lacked "enough diversity", I never hopped on that skin hate boat. My mistake was that I shared these rants with Mark and some other friends during a mutual friend's engagement party. I was a little tipsy, and my voice rose as I explained the different scenarios in which strangers had made annoying comments. But all my anger and irritation was towards the commenters and obviously not hatred for my son.

You'd think this would be obvious to these people who were as close as family. But here they all were to testify against me. Mark was using every thing I'd said to him that weren't praises for my son against me. His step-sister too was here to testify of my child-care incompetence. One day last summer as I babysat her kids, one of her terribly behaved triplets had sat himself in their deep freezer to "cool down" while I reprimanded the other two for seeing who would fall first if they kept throwing rocks at each other. If she hadn't been such an idiot wasting money on designers, changing her Brazilian hair weave every other second, and chasing after boys that could easily be her children, perhaps she would have been able to afford air conditioning and her son could have stayed out of the freezer. Like they didn't do worse things when she was there.  My mother too who has refused psychiatric treatment for years, was here to testify that I must have donated my son for myself and my witch-mates to eat. 

Would someone really believe that I threw my son down the stairs in an attempt to get rid of him?
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Ok that's all I've got. Hope you liked it?


When I initially thought of introducing myself with my writing bio, I thought I'd put up all my writing related  "about you" sections, and then explain each. But then I wrote the concluding part of yesterday's story and I thought of how much a person's work can say about him/ her.  So if you've followed me for a while, you already have a profile in your head of me, but for now here's what I consider to be my writing bio:

Bio 1: My name is Mofopefoluwa. It's quite a mouthful, so everyone calls me some abbreviated version of it. I'm a student who loves writing (mostly musing) and I do this via blogging. 

Basically, I think about way too many random things, and some of them I find interesting. So I decided to start sharing these thoughts. Blogging was free and easy! So here I am.
I wish I could blog more, but I've got school hanging over my head most of the time.  I'm also still learning how to comprehensibly organize and express my thoughts.
I think most of my readers know me personally, I can't wait till this is no longer true. But if you'd like to know more,  please feel free to ask. I'd be happy say as much as I can!

Enjoy your last hours of 2013 (depending on where you are) !




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