When prowling the streets of Accra in 'mini', the last of my worries are my ‘unskinned’ legs, as a matter of fact I love hairy me. The even spread of dark lustering mane gives me a kick. So I rarely give two hoots about anybody's reaction_ hell, I wish i had the same texture of locks, crowned on my small head ( you may think otherwise hehehe...)
However, wearing 'mini' in concrete jungle makes me feel like, fish out of water. Today the sun was up and high, and the weather called for bearing legs.
Amidst all the silky smooth poles which modeled skirts and shorts, I felt like King Kong.
Sitting in one of the carts, I could feel the ten or so pair of eyes boring holes through my cassava sticks, as my father usually refers to them, all thinking the same thing _what happened to shaving sticks?
It was the longest 30 minutes train ride of my life.
I have resolved to get shaving cream tommorow lol.