Guest Contributor African Mami: Ovary Resuscitation

Ya’ll, my ovaries are dying like literally  I mean, metaphorically. I’ve started to hyperventilate and somewhat started to exhibit symptoms of a mid life crisis. My African people, no, I am not dying of ovarian cancer [God forbid bad ting happen, *knock on wood*], neither do I have problems with my gonads. Matter of fact, they are working just fine, and for that we give glory to Baba God oo. I am highly blessed and favored with the worst crimson tide cramps ever [Nana and I usually compare notes on the twirra every end of the month] as a symbol and acknowledgement of their working class lifestyle.

Ehe! What I am referring to, is the fact that I am nearing an age which I have detested with all of my heart and strength my whole life, the big three O. I don’t even have the guts to say it out loud, lest those words swallow me alive. The death declarations of my ovaries are of course melodramatic, giving Shakespeare’s numerous soliloquies competition, but I digress. This problem has been heightened by two incidents of late. First, the realization that a tight buddy of mine is now a mother-woooptie wow! Who would have thunk that?! Second, another will be walking down the aisle, this time next year. Hesus!! [Mexican Jesus]. Forgot to add, that doctors give us 5 years after the fact, to produce little ones, or else face the wrath of trying to conceive, thereafter. I have tried to encourage myself, by drawing from the trials, tribulations, and triumphs of one Sarai in the Bible, mother of Isaac.

I’m not there yet, but I am already feeling overwhelmed by the expectations of being 30, or should I say aging in general. Marriage, then a carriage, and of course a successful career is that bullshiggidy associated with coming of age. I am writing in because I need my ovaries resuscitated. Now, how is this relevant to the adventures of the African bedroom? I’m struggling to answer this question myself. Nonetheless, I would love to hear from you guys.

For those that are 30 and over, how is life oo? What should I look forward to, if anything? How about you spring chickens? Do you harbor any fears about coming of age? What are you most looking forward to?

NB:

I’ve heard a lot of women remark that they found themselves at this age. I guess there is hope after all.

Thank you all for bearing with my crazy ramblings. God will abundantly bless you for this!