I know exactly who I am; I am Oluremi's granddaughter, the spitting image of my mama...

I have always been quite clear on who and what I am and I always thought what I am was individual, secure enough to be different and not follow the popular path. I never got into boys in secondary school or alcohol in university or the fashion or makeup or all the partying over the years. I don't like being the centre of attention, being in the mix of things is just not me. So popular cool just wasn't the right fit for me. But I thought I had a handle on individual cool, i.e doing my own thing, liking what I liked and not giving a damn.

I thought I had a handle on it from an early age, on not being the same as everyone else. I didn't do toys, teddy bears or Barbie...truth be told I never got the appeal of dolls but since I had to have one I rebelled and chose Sindy, just to be different.

What I did do was read, and not just the preferred 'childrens books' like Enid Blyton or the Eze books but thanks to Big V, we read Dickens, Shakespeare, Buchi Emecheta, Cyprian Ekwensi etc long before we had to in English Literature class, heck long before we understood themes and moods. Thanks to Big V again, I suspect KK and I knew the words to Nat King Cole's Unforgettable as well as if not better than we knew the Nigerian national anthem. Frank Sinatra and Sam Cooke were also part of our musical repertoire and I could sing Victor Olaiya with the best of them...I still can!! I loved the King, Elvis not Michael, and at that age I knew he was also an actor, Kissin Cousins was a childhood favourite movie for a time...till either the L's or the R's stole it!!!

So I was well on my way at an early age and I thought by my 20s I had a pretty good handle on being URO and not one of the pack. Though I had one or two misadventures I didn't fall completely into the hedonistic or materialistic trap. I'm not into the bag or phone or whatever of the moment. I don't need to see or be seen. I'm actually more content not being seen.

And now in my 30s, how really different am I? Looking closely I discover I'm neither quirky/nerdy nor any kind of cool. What I am is -

Eastenders; a cup of tea with milk and two teaspoons of sugar but first thing in the morning it's a cup of coffee with milk and two teaspoons of sugar or maybe a latte from Starbucks with a butter croissant to go; malted milk and custard creams and bourbons; romance novels, thrillers, James Rollins and Judith McNaught; Empire, Madam Secretary, Burn Notice, Sons of Anarchy, Blue Bloods, The Graham Norton Show; Jersey Boys, Les Miserables, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof; Adele, Bruno Mars, Michael Jackson, Janet Jackson, The Jackson 5, The Jacksons, Off the Wall,Thriller, Dirty Diana, Q's Jook Joint, Smokey Robinson and Lionel Richie, Elvis, some Madonna, Carmina Burana but mostly O Fortuna; Friends and 30 Rock and Modern Family, The Royle Family; It's a Wonderful Life, Guys & Dolls, Lord of the Rings Trilogy, Love Actually, An Affair to Remember; Cary Grant, Marlon Brando, Jean Simmons, Grace Kelly, Tom Hanks; chinese takeaway, indomie noodles, ofada rice, fried rice and jollof rice, yam and egg or maybe corned beef; meatpie and sausage roll, McDonalds and KFC, maybe Burger King or Five Guys; Percy Sledge's When a Man Loves a Woman, Frank Sinatra's My Way and New York New York, Neil Young's Hey Hey My My but the version by Battleme, Victor Olaiya's Omopupa, Fela's Zombie, Fela's Yanga; Tennesse Williams, Chinua Achebe; Jagua Nana's Daughter, The Rose Trilogy; General Hospital on Youtube; Rice Crispies; skinny jeans tucked into Uggs or knee high boots in winter, long dress or skinny jeans or leggings and flip flops in summer....

I could go on forever but you already know what I am because what I am is probably what you are, it is what probably what most people are and that is the same as everyone else, bloody average!!!

But holdup wait a minute...what I am NOT is - X Factor or American Idol, football or tennis or any kind of sports (save the olympics or world cup and even then it's mostly peer pressure), no Kardashian show or any such reality programme, no Countdown, Deal or No Deal, or Come Dine with Me... So maybe just maybe I'm a little different :)

Title's a play on the lyrics of Jessica Andrews 'Who I Am'.

Battle Wounds

“On the girl's brown legs there were many small white scars. I was thinking, Do those scars cover the whole of you, like the stars and the moons on your dress? I thought that would be pretty too, and I ask you right here please to agree with me that a scar is never ugly. That is what the scar makers want us to think. But you and I, we must make an agreement to defy them. We must see all scars as beauty. Okay? This will be our secret. Because take it from me, a scar does not form on the dying. A scar means, I survived.” 
― Chris Cleave, Little Bee

The above quote appeared on my Facebook timeline, posted by someone in the Phyllodes Tumour group of which I am a member. It resonated, especially as I am still struggling to settle into the changes wrought on me physically by the mastectomy. 

I have never really had an issue with scars, and I have plenty all over, some from normal childhood scrapes, others evidence of my fight against ill health. I don't even really remember which scar on my body came first or how old I was when I got it. It's not something I dwell on and I have never really looked into the mirror or looked at myself and seen them as flaws or imperfections, if anything I most times forget I have them till someone else points at them or notices them.

But then I had the mastectomy.

I can't even really explain why the M scars are different, they certainly aren't the first visible scars in that area of my body, but there is just something about them that sometimes makes me sad. Maybe it's that they are a constant reminder of the loss of a part of me, however imperfect and riddled with illness that part was, it was still me...born with me, grew with me...or maybe it's that I can't help but compare that fake part to the other still natural part, and though it may be perkier, though it may look slightly more perfect, there is still something quite unnatural about it all.

Whatever the case may be, I am still yet to see these particular scars as a part of me...to be ignored like the rest of me.

But the one thing I do see when I look at them is that come what may...I survived!