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Category Archives: treasured

rebel.of.honour

About two months ago, a very good friend asked that I become the maid of honour at her wedding. After she said those words to me over the phone, there was a pause and subsequently, 5-10 seconds of laughter. It was a shared joke. She and I have been friends for about 7 years now and having met on the soccer field, she knew what she was asking when she asked it. During that momentary pause in time (all of 2 seconds) I became dizzy with an assortment of thoughts; thoughts of make-up, eyebrow tweezing, high-heeled shoes, dress, nails painting, flowers and all the other out-of-character things I would have to endure. After running back and forth the tracks of this mental “ordeal”, the “honour” bit in the title entered my consciousness and the dizzying thoughts settled. So I asked, “Do I have to wear a dress?” and with that she knew that I’d already accepted the position and the rest became a part of history that will never be forgotten.

As a child, due to my very nature, I was never used as a flower girl in any wedding, and as I grew older, I preferred a more background role (taking pictures and making sure everyone followed the day’s protocol) avoiding the spotlight as much as possible. So this was the perfect opportunity to prove to the world what I was made up of as I took reigns of a prominent part in a wedding ceremony. To be honest with you I was more “afraid” than anything else. Nevertheless, I took hold of the role gladly and yet, gingerly, uncertain of what to expect, yet hopeful.

(from left to right) Naa, Marcy, Karen and the Rebel of Honour

As the days rolled closer to the D-day, it still didn’t hit me, not even when I tried on the dress. The very first reaction I got was from my younger brother was summed-up into a simple shriek (better seen than said). Turning aside from that, I showed it to the bride who thought I looked dashing so I ignored my brother.

Then on the day of the event, during my make-up session, it hit me. Real hard this time; with every stroke of the make-up brush. I knew then, that there was no use holding back, and so I let go, ridding my self of almost every Rebel Ryter attachment and allowing the Rebel of Honour spirit to take over. Evidently, after my make-up session, I couldn’t recognize myself in the mirror, and as a direct result, the rest of the day was extremely surreal. Thankfully, before I could drift too far off into wonderland, I reminded myself of the very essence of the day’s event and that made every tweezed hair totally worth it. The wedding ceremony was perfect and I was proud to have been a part of it, and not just any part, a very essential and crucial part, so crucial the wedding couldn’t have gone on without me :-P.

The Rebellious Make-Up

Now to Marcelle and Tai, thanks for the wonderful experience, thanks for bringing out the woman in me (despite the fact that it was only for a few hours). All together, it was a great experience, one that I may not want to repeat too often, but would undoubtedly cherish for now and for always.

To all of you who are thinking “This is it. This is what will change Freddy. Now she’ll start making her face up to places and throw in some skirts and dresses into her wardrobe.” Well … I hate to disappoint you, but it WON’T! It will take a lot more than one pretty dress and make-up session to convert me. But I’ll be happy to do it once or twice a year, only next time I’ll charge for my service, simply because I put some umph into the ceremony.

 

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sacred.favourites

You know that feeling that you feel when you don’t like the feeling you are feeling? Maybe you don’t. But I felt that feeling this morning as I drove from home to work. Some of you might know Dewland fruit juices. They are one of my favourites and most treasured natural juices, after Blue Skies of course.

Therefore, you can easily imagine my horror when I saw it being peddled on the street like common food! Inside me, I wanted to cry. But my outer man kept it bottled in.

I consider cheap, things sold on the street, therefore I most certainly do not appreciate it when my most cherished and highly favoured fruit drink is “commonized” into streetware! I take offense, immediately! They did the same to grapes. I mean I love grapes, truly, I do. But not when it is counted, bagged and sold for me along the street like “ebro ena nkate”. They are grapes and by all means should be treated as royalty. Maybe I’m fussing unnecessarily over this, but if you were part of the ancestry of the kingdom of grapes, you will not encourage defaming your legacy by calling you “glips” (I italicized the ‘p’ because it is barely enunciated). This woeful pronunciation of my wonder fruit emanated from the mouthpiece of a hawker. Grapes, if I recall correctly from Greek myths, were served to kings on silver platters. Ask anyone who’s watched any of those movies.

Newspapers I don’t mind; apples I’ve gotten used to but my Dewland, oh my Dewland. This can’t be how it ends. These sales & marketing guys have gotto come up with more imaginative ways of selling their products.

 
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Posted by on July 28, 2009 in Newspapers, treasured