I wish this was an extract from Michelle Obama’s Book but nope *smile* it’s Becoming Anci the Sunday Times Bestselling Book ( a girl can dream right!?) Let’s dive into it
I would like to thank my Grade Three teacher who taught me verbs,nouns and encouraged me to daydream , my grandmother who kept on gifting me books and diaries that my brother read, Afrobloggers for this prompt and above all I am grateful for coffee mugs ,mink blankies and reading glasses.
Prologue or just a rant
I grew up in a time when DSTV was so coveted (before Netflix yáll) and durawalls where becoming a thing in some suburb in Harare. From as young as I could remember you were either going to be smart or a total snooze in our family. I grew up surrounded by books and my mum jokingly says on a good day that my love of reading always prompted Kingston Books shopping sprees every weekend that my brother totally hated favoring icecream dates instead. I loved reading and watching TV that I never made a lot of friends in the neighborhood. I was that girl that everyone thought was adopted because uhmm I carpooled with the Fredikinson’s (this lovely white couple that picked me up and dropped me at home and introduced me to caramel pudding, carrot cake and dog petting), the teacher’s pet (because I was that girl you didn’t like at school that teachers adored) and that one that you invited to parties because your mum was friends with my mum. I don’t remember anything fun happening in my younger years but when I look back at my firsts I can see the lessons in them -the first time I learnt how to ride a bicycle (showed the resilence in me ), my first kombi ride ( I was terrified but I was so determined to become so independent of my mother and give her a break for me) and the first time I performed in front of a crowd showed there is a total badass in me.
On Becoming A Blogger
I was never supposed to be anyone to be honest because I started blogging by mistake and FOMO. You see, I have this Ivy league educated friend who went to the US and started a blog and would repeteadly tell me about wordpress and ask me to like that I finally decided to find out what blogging was and here we are. I thought noone would read the blog so decided to be blunt and honest about myself as I could be but along the way I began to detest it as I didn’t know why I wasn’t getting many subscribers and why noone cared about my blog when I found out that people actually get paid to blog. But I have become so comfortable in my skin that I blog about the things I actually care about and in all essence it’s important to remain true to who you are and what you enjoy.
On Becoming Comfortable In My Skin
I was that girl that was too chubby in primary school regardless that I was 7 years old, too tall at twelve , too skinny at 13, phat booty at 16, unafrican at 21 and now at twenty-something too something. I went through a stage when I wasn’t good enough for anyone’s standards and that was a blow to my self-esteem and might have contributed to me becoming that person that wanted to either be smart or funny (regardless that I can’t tell a funny joke to save my burning scones) but over time I have become a tad bit comfortable being slimthick, too loud,too soft, too bookish and too opionated.
On Becoming A Mother
Becoming a godmother to my daughter was an unexpected detor that freaked me out. I didn’t have any kids of my own, I spilled coffee everywhere, spent money like my bank balance matched Warren Buffet’s and cried twelve times watching the Titanic so I was so convinced I couldn’t be a good mother. But yáll turns out I am a good semi-mom..like that little girl loves so much that I want to do right by her.
Am I gonna have kids of my own? yes of course
On Becoming Unapologetic About Therapy
I suffer from terrible anxiety and OCD that I have had to get help for and I remain unapologetic about my struggles. We will thrive even in storms or drought because we are God’s Children. Looking back at how I got to suffer from anxiety I want to cry but I won’t apologise for going to therapy because sometimes we need a helping hand.
On Becoming Anci
When I was 6 Anci was a young girl that loved chocolate ,blinky bill and wanted to be a doctor.
When I was 13 she was that young girl ready to have the best teenage years and go to medical school
At 16 she was falling in like *wink* for the first time , reading more books and still stuck on being a Neurosurgeon
At 21 she was finding herself in a loud world and daydreaming about bookstores and cowboys
And now… I am just trying to love without doubt, dance in the rain,laugh out loud and plan that fairytale wedding *wink*