Pendo is stuck in her bed with stuffy eyes and a face of unwashed makeup from last night. Her tears would have flooded the whole earth if they could. She grudgingly wakes up and stares at her reflection in the mirror. Is she a pale version of herself? Who is she? She is a model and works for a French franchising beauty company. Her profile is to die for; her following is almost striking a million with her photo shoots across various famed destinations the latest being the island of Zanzibar. Yesterday was the opening of a new club in the outskirts of Sherati city. She wore a little black dress and jewelry from a TikTok admirer. The dress showed a scar she got from an accident with her ex Hetani at age eighteen. She's never healed completely from the relationship and the accident. The therapist diagnosed her with body dysmorphic disorder; she wasn't surprised that he was confirming that the confident Pendo on social media was an illusion very far from reality. The scar on her lower left thigh is a painful connection to her past, one that is holding on to her like glue.
Her scar is trending everywhere. Trolls everywhere. A dark scar just like your heart. I always knew she had a plastic surgery. She feels her spirit crashing. She's been triggered. Just like all the other times, she'll ran to her magic pink crystals. They'll get rid of her pain then she'll just be okay. She knows that this is a band-aid solution and will not address the root cause. Nobody cares about her anyway. She takes 3 pills and just lies on her king size bed with a comfortable and soft mattress. She wakes up and takes 3 puffs of her cigarette then she feels a recharge and decides to dress up and go for a brunch with her instafamous friends.
She has been added to a group. A friend just committed suicide by throwing herself from the balcony of her condominium. She feels a certain wave of fear envelope her. At times, she has contemplated her suicide and even manifested her burial service. The cab driver today is stark silent maneuvering through the road. She pats her lips and make sure they are a perfect shiny crimson color. The theme is flowery and the venue is beautiful with well-toned ladies looking aesthetically attractive. She greets a few fans and connects with her friends Tulia and Waridi. A gathering of ladies is nothing short of boy talk, the latest booty enlarging procedures, the latest Brazilian hair and so on and so forth. The food is fit for The Queen of England. A five-course meal and lots of happy photos of people with sad hearts. Someone mentions her scar and she feels conscious but she lets it go this time round.
As she plans a meeting with a sanitary products company to advertise their products, she comes across another barrage of verbal assaults about her scar. This time the tears don't flow as freely as every day. She decides enough is enough. She's regaining control of her life and decides to try out a painting activity that she loves. A ray of hope, a glimmer of hope, looks like the end of the month of May might bring meaningful change.
Regards,
Agnes
- Agnes is a Mental Health Activist, A Writer, and a Student Leader at Egerton University