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Rated: E · Short Story · Experience · #2190299
A conversation in a taxi cab
Maturity
Don't give it the power to control you.
It was on a chilly night as my friend and I board a cab from Phebe hospital to Salala as we were coming from visiting his [male friend] friend on Cuttington camps. I would give a little history on location, but I am clueless. I could use the internet, but you can do that if you are interested. Let me not take you away from the main point.
"Let the ley geh go sit with my sister in the front," the lady next to my friend said.
"Auntie, I am not a little girl. -I am a woman!" What if that was the mistake? Maybe, I shouldn't have called her auntie. But look, I am in a taxi cab in Liberia, somewhere in West Africa where you are supposed to respect the elders. Or maybe, I am wrong here. Why would I call a woman that is calling me little girl: auntie? I have grown cousins that still call my mom aunt.
"[Laughs], look at the person saying not to call her a little girl." I moved to sit at the front with the sister of the lady sitting at the back. She was embarrassed because she's fat well I like to be nice and say "thick" but slimmer than the sister in the back. I would admit I was a little crush up, but I had no choice at this point. It was after 7:00 pm, it was getting late. I had my car park somewhere between Salala and another town that I cannot remember. So many questions right now, why you didn't drive your car to the campus and back?
A little information before I got myself in this cab. So, it was supposed to be a great day with few friends on a road trip to nowhere in particular. That day, two of my friends call out due to personal issues. So, it was just he and I. We decided to continue with our adventure hype. An hour or 45 mins away from Cuttington University, the car started overheating. We pulled over, found the cause and fixed the problem; it should have alarmed us to not go forward but we were almost there. It just a few more towns left to go so why don't we hit the finish line. We parked the car with people we could trust. Oh, we didn't take the car because we didn't want to encounter the same problem ahead of us.
So that's what happened. Back in the cab, I sat next to the lady in the front. Her expression went like wow!
"You don't even have a mature body and you are telling someone that you are a woman, not a girl. You so don't look mature; you are not even mature."
"I am a woman."
"No, you are not."
That's my wife to be you are talking to. She has everything that qualifies her to be a woman." That was my friend way of talking on my behalf.
"She's not a woman to me, I don't consider her mature."
"How do you define maturity then?"
"Let's not go there."
So, the conversation stopped there, and a different conversation emerged. Okay, it's not new to me about people referring to me as a kid. [Good gene] I would say. But this calling me a kid because my body is not mature is new. I can hold a fetus in my womb and that does not make me mature enough to be called a woman. I have always thought maybe it was of my height. I know I look young but there are women out there that have good genes and beautiful skin like me, but they are not referred to as kids. I have friends that are short some are shorter than me, but people see them and assume they are adults.

Therefore, this is it, people referred to me as a kid because of my petite body. I am not a woman because I am not thick. Biologically, I am a woman. My age says that I am an adult. What does a thick body have to with maturity?
-
Wait, I pay bills, I have responsibilities (something I been having from age seven although it's way different compared to now), I supervise kids. I prepare a whole house meal; I take the role of a parent during my free time. What am I missing here, -a thick body, a size 10 body?
[Sigh] All along, I got myself putting on makeup and wear a wig just so I look my age and it all had to do with me not being a size 10.
[winces] ... I gave this the power and it controlled me for a long time.

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