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too much perfection!
My sisters, I say make I go Lagos becos my bam bam pally dey marry. Infact she snag one rich man; Hmm come hear tory. One day, she tell me say she dey go Naija, make im see im papa and mama. I come say no problem, I beg rock Lagos for me O jare. E no reach one month, when de yeye girl call me say “Darling, guess what, I'm getting married” Chineke, in one month. Ah, de girl no dey play, in one month she meet de man, love de man and na so marriage come enter the equation, the kind speed the girl come use, na wa O, but dat one be another story. My problem today be all these yeye women wey dey do plastic surgery for Naija. My dear dem day plenty. Some people done do facelift so tey, dem skin dey stretch across dia bone like leather on top drum. Haba. One woman dey look me and in eye be like say e wan jump comot from im face. As e dey talk, na so im eye dey flash, me sef I nearly pick race, for fear the eyes go land for inside my blouse. As if dat one no be enough, I come bump into one chick wey done do breast job, As I bump into am, im breast wound my breast, that hard silicone no be joke O! Meanwhile de dress e wear come showcase the breast like ripe mango for market...Na wa O. I beg O, make una take am easy dey perfect God's perfection, una go perfect am so tey e go dey imperfect.
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