woman scorned

“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned….” I think I should google the person who said this but am to engrossed in writing this. So I’ll acknowledge that person in their absence.  

Anyhow, I have been told every woman gets scorned at some point in their life time and bitterness the end result.( Hey you, it was not my mother who gave me that crappy advice. I wonder why guys think our mothers are responsible for all the bad advice around!)

But the thing is that statement is not new to me and gives a whole meaning to some of my experiences. For instance, I have awoken happy and lain in tears. Scorn the cause.

I have been in love and forced out of it. And now when I talk, I’ve been mistaken to have that hell bent fury. But I tell the world today that it’s all a pinch of reality… nothing more nothing less.

I left the fury behind the day I put down that phone. The day I dialed my girls and cried, the day the wolf pack came together to hear me bitch, rant and reward me with hugs. There I said it, my fine fury field day.

And yes… I am a woman scorned but fury that I have not. Oh no, don’t be fooled I have had my moment or was it moments? But am afraid it never lasts. The claws of bitterness slowly slip away, all that remains is regret then slowly, “stupid girl” is all I keep hearing in this brain. Then walah … Michael who? You mean the dude I used to go out with? I think he died… no you mean he still lives…lol

Naah I don’t (uncontrollable giggles over here)

So anyhow, that fury that makes you want to burn his clothes or better still tell Kayihura read( the Inspector General of police) your ex was last seen consorting with the LRA Rebels or do you tell Nyakeirima ( UPDF Army something). I don’t exactly know how the whistle blowing procedure works.

But I have glad tidings; I got the antidote to this hell bent fury of we scorned women.  Yap, am a woman above these base feelings. And no it’s not with the comfort of chocolate, wine or any comfort foods. But this surely helps.

So here it is: I cry and cry and cry… then my eyes get all blotchy and my heart well my heart…I can’t say exactly but it still beating. And on the fourth day I just snap out of it. Get my pen, vent it all out and then deliver the note to the nearest fire. I also give out those ‘precious gifts/belongings’ or not … I wonder what became of them?

I bitched about it for a day until I got tired of it and turned to my pad to  write it off.  That’s because am the greater woman here and he the lesser fool.

                                                Love me

                                          Joyce Ikonye