Women are the most complex and intriguing creatures on Earth. In this modern age, they are becoming even more interesting by way of the choices they make and the things they are influenced by. Many times, I personally wonder if some kinds of independence vocal feminists speak of is even possible to achieve; not with the aping of trends at a rate that makes nonsense of the ‘look before you leap’ maxim.
I don’t envy women. Not one bit. In the appearance (or should I say expression) department alone, I have a full set of reasons why I can never envy a woman. And while some of the things they do, or that happen to them are truly deserving of much praise and admiration, many of the lot are stuff for amusement.
These days, it seems women have decided to befriend themselves with very strange things. Take glue for example. Glue has almost become a woman’s best friend. I am talking about glue–a word that when mentioned before, used to conjure up pictures of cobblers and shoes, wood and paper craft–now becoming a dear friend holding on to a lady wherever she goes. And so it is now, that I can see a lady looking all fine-smelling and attention-grabbing; but when I look at those false nails of her’s and my mind bores through to the gum beneath slaving to keep those nails in place, I can’t help but picture my Super Glue at home and the kinds of materials it used to help join together: plastic-to-plastic, wood-to-wood, metal-to-metal…you get the gist. To now imagine a plastic-to-human-nail association without condescension becomes difficult for me. But then it gets worse.
Glue has not only probably become a woman’s best friend, it has almost become one with her flesh. Now it follows the woman everywhere. On her fingers, it’s there. On her toes, you find it. Even on the most delicate part of the external realm of the body–the eyes, you find it there clinging strongly to another popular testament to the current craze for synthetic beauty; beauty being something that women themselves ironically keep telling us men not to bother ourselves with, insisting true beauty is really that springing from the heart.
The worst part of this strange friendship is glue has turned out to become a parasitic friend many times, plaguing women with disease. Don’t be deceived by the purring and cat-walks and narcissistic pride many ladies try to impress you with. You only need look closely at the body part in question when the false nails part ways temporarily with their host. I warn you, it usually can be an extremely disgusting sight, featuring for your viewing horror: discolored nail plates, thickened claw-type nails, crumbling nail edges, irritating skin peels and a whole lot of other unsightly conditions. What boggles my mind most is the fact that many ladies spotting these nails, happen to have been born with beautiful natural nails that have now metamorphosed to the unsightly things that glue has given in exchange for artificial beauty. And most never stop; caught up in a pretentious bid to cover up the layers of harm glue has brought their way over the years.
Then the climax of this whole pathetic saga: the obvious ignorance or unwillingness–whichever the case and whichever comes first–on the part of many women as regards learning the basics of the art of being beautiful and looking good. I still don’t understand how the creations of man invented to beautify, now become excellent tools at masqueradifying. You see some ladies from afar sometimes with attractively blinding collages of colour combos–but then you get closer and you are amazed at how the expression ‘putting the cart before the horse’ can find so much meaning in a human being. So much expression. In some cases, you can actually tell that the lady in question hasn’t had a bath. Yet you will still have heavy foundation poking you in the face; lip-gloss failing at inviting you to stare; incomplete sets of artificial, poorly polished nails calling up your bile; and then mascara and false eyelashes playing an unpalatable symphony that doesn’t help in making you appreciate the true meaning of what beauty is supposed to be. I won’t even talk about the abuse of artificial hair. No I won’t. If women don’t understand the meaning of the word progress as it relates to the art of beautification, then they probably should go old school and save us the trouble.
Or is it just Nigerian women?