"It is only shallow people who do not judge by appearances”…

…So said Oscar Wilde, and I’m inclined to agree with him. What else can you judge a person by, in this digital age, where one has to process vast amounts of information per second, per second? Acquaintances are made and lost in an instant, who has the time to get to know your pedigree? or your father’s father over a long chat and a cup of tea? Spot checks are the order of the day. Men have not quite mastered the art, but women can scan over a subject with the efficiency of an MRI in a nano second. Shoes check! Bag check! Wedding ring check! Watch check! Necklace check! Earrings check! All in the blink of an eye…having gathered it, how we process it and use it is an entirely different matter altogether.

 The other day a friend of mine called me early in the morning ostensibly to give me an overview of some work related matter, but as we spoke I noticed her usual ebullient conversation was punctuated with intermittent sighs

“What’s the matter?” I asked “

“Oh nothing” she replied wearily, followed by that sound only black people know how to make. (If the black community really wanted to know whether Obama was black enough, they should have asked him to make that sound, mscheew!!). You can’t really describe it as a hiss, or a smacking of the lips because it’s not. Almost all of us use it every day to express weary disappointment, or fiery disapproval, yet it defies the printed word.  

“Of course there’s something wrong, why are you sounding like this so early in the morning?”

After another round of “oh nothing mscheew!” (her) and, “of course there’s something” (me) she finally told me.

She began by asking me whether I knew a certain gym. I averred that I did. However not being that energetically inclined I have to admit that I had only a passing acquaintance. I had heard however that it’s a body beautiful destination and if one wants to tone up their muscle in the company of other toned up muscly types, that was the place to go to …and indeed people do go there from all corners of Lagos, leaving their homes at the crack of dawn for the privilege of sweating alongside other designer clad bods in this swanky fitness haven.

I’m sure many of you have already cottoned on to the gym I’m talking about and for those of you who haven’t, I’m sure you’re dying to know. Oh O.k., so I’ll put you out of your misery – It’s Pro Flex Gym in Victoria Island!

Anyway, apparently my friend, having finished a vigorous workout, feeling all cool, pumped up and superior (the thought of flabby friends lying slothfully in bed always kindles feelings of superiority), sauntered into the locker room to find her gym bag dumped unceremoniously on the floor. She said she felt immediately deflated and asked me in earnest, “Was I wrong to have felt bad seeing my gym bag on the floor like that?” not quite understanding the complexity of the question, I immediately launched into what I thought was a suitably sensible response.
 

“You know people are so rude these days, maybe someone just wanted to sit down on the bench and in order to make room,  put your gym bag on the floor”

“No; no; you don’t understand” she replied in agitation, her voice rising a notch, the way one’s voice does when one suspects the other person thinks one is imagining things.

“Err…O.k. “, I said, now listening to her intently.

“Have you ever been to Pro Flex?” she asked huffily

“No” I answered slowly, feeling slightly that my credentials were being called to account.

“Well there you are then!” she countered triumphantly. I was baffled and was about to continue with my reasoned argument, which in Nigeria always ends with, “don’t mind them o jare!” when she continued with…

“as I was looking at my bag lying forlornly on the floor another member having caught the situation, came up to me  and said in a low tone “don’t worry; don’t worry, I know how you feel, It used to happen to me until I changed my gym bag.” Looking up I saw a brand new spanking red Nike gym bag sportily hanging from her shoulder” she said with a sigh.

“Sooo, what gym bag were you carrying? (I had now got the message), I asked accusatorily. She confessed that “O.K, it wasn’t eeexactly a gym bag”, but it was a nice enough bag and roomy enough to fit in all her exercise gear, and proceeded to describe the hold all. I recalled that it was one I had often admired; in fact we had all admired it and might I add that this  bag had traveled the world and been held in high esteem. By all accounts it was a very stylish hold all. Now our tastes were being called into question by the collective tastes of the Pro Flex crowd. I was stung with indignation. “What nonsense!” I spluttered in support, but then a tiny thought slowly dawned on me “Was there a possibility …” Before it could crystallize it was answered by my friends final declaration, when she ended her painful tirade with “Can you imagine? Would they have thrown it on the ground like that if it was a Louis Vuitton holdall???”

People do judge a book by its cover; don’t let the way you look be a book they don’t want to read!

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