May 23, 2018

Biko, what is sexy about a thirteen year old? – Peju Akande

Biko, what is sexy about a thirteen year old? – Peju Akande

It’s bad enough that kids these days look years older than they really are; you see a fully formed woman in a thirteen year old body, for instance. More than half the time, these babies don’t even understand what they have much less get that their bodies are already attracting even the saints among us. Then you encounter a clueless parent, who goes to the “raunchy” section in a clothes shop to purchase the kind of number a vixen would wear, for a thirteen year old, simply because the child has the body of an adult!

Not good at all. So there we all were, at this end of year party, eating, drinking and generally being merry. Among the crowd of kids that gathered was this huge lumbering child in adult clothes, you could mistake her for an adult; she looked some 5’6 or 5’7 feet tall; wore black ankle boots, a one sleeved white sequined top that gripped her budding breasts in a vice hold and a skimpy black skirt she didn’t realise would require her to sit with her legs firmly closed like they were glued together.

Oh, the clothes fit but they were clothes mummy or big aunty who knows how to keep unwanted hands off, should wear, not this child who didn’t even know what to do with her body. Fact is she didn’t even know she had a body. She had no grace, no poise to carry the clothes she was wearing, she let the other strap fall off and remain off many times, exposing her tender skin. She wasn’t deliberate, mark you, she was being a child too preoccupied with the cup of ice cream on one hand and a huge  swath of candy floss on the other, so a silly strap was just not going to stop her from eating both at once.

Every adult noticed this child and we all wondered who amongst us was her parent.

Some woman called it, ‘…child abuse’. A few of us heard her over the loud music.

Me? I felt sorry for the kid who had unwittingly become a spectacle of scorn to us adults, I wished I knew who her parents were, and perhaps they weren’t even here at the gathering.

Then it was dancing time and even those of us with two left legs hit the floor, we wanted to unwind; tis Christmas season after all. The kids too, joined, from their own section, everyone wanted to boogie down to oldies from the 80s and 90s.

However, while adults danced freely, kids were being compered by a stupid clown with bad grammar, (meanwhile, how come these clowns never learn to speak good English?). It was he who decided who danced well and should remain dancing and who didn’t and was sent off the dance floor. Our ‘sexy’ kid was sent soon off after struggling to balance her moves on the heeled ankle boots she wore and that recalcitrant sleeve.

She was booed off by the stupid clown, who should know better than to make fun of kids so openly. ‘Sexy kid’ went off bawling and that’s when mama bear came out!

Up until then, I hadn’t noticed her presence; she came out when she saw her baby bear crying like a, well,  baby.

‘How dare you embarrass my child!’ she howled. (By the way, I would howl louder should it be my child that was so sent off and laughed at by the idiot clown who couldn’t even string a full correct sentence!)

Mama bear was  huge. She stood on heels at over 6 feet. (why do tall women like heels? Story for another day)

Mama bear was light in completion but bleached to the last layer of her skin, her green veins stood out angrily on her hands, neck and temple; her outrageously loud makeup, a kaleidoscope of colours playing from her dark blue false lashes, to the rich red of her full lips.

We all stared; the clown stopped his nonsense English. He attempted to apologise and make light of Mama Bear’s anger as she charged towards him.

We all waited for the clash…surely this would be a better story to tell if she reached him, and thumped him right into the earth with as much force and determination as Tom does Jerry on a number of occasions. There would be plenty of commotion as many would scramble to save the clown, I wasn’t going budge. I was going to let her have her fill of him; he should be chewed to bits!

But…she didn’t, instead, she beckoned  her daughter back to the dance floor and wagged a finger at the now sober clown.

Soooo, you are the mother of this reluctant vixen? I wanted to ask.

What possessed you to let her leave the house like she is soliciting sex from paedophiles?

Can’t you see she’s easy meat for men who like babies?

Thirteen year olds should be cute, adorable, even but sexy? Nah!

Too many questions I wanted to ask but I didn’t. Who wan die?

I just stared at her throughout the party. Sometimes, it’s just good to mind your own business, after that demo charging at the clown, I didn’t think she would be ready for any ‘friendly advice’ from me, na so I pack my comments o.

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