GAL FRIDAY: Bleach and burn not for me
A MULE IS A CROSS between a female horse and a male donkey (or what is known as a “jack”) hence the word “jackass”. Why do we therefore say, “drug mule?”
Is it to be politically correct? And if so, why so? Because if you have nerves of steel and every orifice of your body is a potential hiding place for contraband, then you have to be a serious drug jackass. But, I not going there today. I choose to speak of a much lighter topic – the topic of bleaching.
First of all, I don’t even like to smell bleach, although I know it gets the household chores done. But it is not of that type of bleaching that I speak. I am talking about bleaching a la Vybz Kartel, where you utilise the bleaching cream to lighten a body part or, in some cases, the whole body.
You see, to each his own, but I just like to stand back and observe the great ironies of life. Well, let me say that I wasn’t even standing: I was riding. Yes, on a spanking new bicycle from my old friends at Courts. I was riding slowly, sipping on a Coke, and she whizzed past me in a voosh. A lady. Oiled down like a good piece of breadfruit. Light skin, but ready to be darkened in the merciless Caribbean sun. Why?
Well, I am not one to presuppose, so I rode a bit more quickly to her. It was impossible, since she was much fitter than me and I didn’t want to spill the Coke. When she turned back, I hollered to her and was as inquisitive as we usually are. I inquired about the brand of sunscreen and she mentioned to me that my assumption was far from correct.
In fact, it was cocoa butter, slathered liberally on, so that she would be charred and burnt, so as to prove to here colleagues over in a way that she had a great time here in Bimshire. So, on one end, we have black people bleaching and on the other, white people, burning. Bleach and burn: the new approach to the modern lifestyle.
Well, let me tell you something: if you have friends or friends of friends who bleaching or burning, neither is good. I not playing judge or anything so. I am simply stating the facts. Skin cancer is on the rise. I have a friend who recently passed because of that nasty thing. Protect yourself. I don’t care who laughing at me with my driving gloves, asking me if I think I name Mark Maloney or something, but my hands are covered while driving. I don’t care who whispering when I walk into Lucky Horseshoe with socks and sandals, because my name is not Roberta Dowell – I ain’t no fashionista or nothing so. I protecting myself.