Miss is a Mr 'Sir'

I distinctly remember the day I realised something was wrong. It was the 28th March 2011. I remember cause it was the last presentation I had to make to my bioinformatics group (so long suckers!) before I left. I was ready for my presentation. I knew my work (well hindsight is 20:20 vision, then I was still not sure). A few seconds into my presentation, I stopped briefly and looked at everyone…they looked back. I thought I sounded like I was talking underwater…but they didn’t seem to think that. That was the start…right there. The start of me turning into a Mr Sir.

I was excited about my first pregnancy. I had no money as I was a student again, nothing…but I knew we would be fine (well daddy dearest wasn’t going to let us starve…hehehehe). I was happy that my goal of having a baby by 30 would be realised! Yipeee…also it was good to know that I could bear kids!

I was glowing. My skin was flawless and I generally looked very healthy. Until that fateful day, the 28th March 2011. The start of the second trimester. That’s when my voice started to change. I actually googled this, apparently there’s a 1 in however million chance a voice will be affected by pregnancy. Whooppie…I had to be the one.

Then my skin changed colour. I became dark. Not a nice glowing dark but a dirty dark, like I haven’t washed in ages. My nose followed…then the stretch marks you get the story. Ok, I guess I was the swan that turned ugly. I was ok with that.

But the voice. It became deeper. Every time I received a phone call…no let me recount one for you. Ring ring goes my mobile phone. “Hello”….a millisecond delayed confusion…”Hello uhm Sir, May I please speak to Miss Madimetja Legae”…”Legae”…”Excuse me?”…”Miss Legae”…”Oh sorry Miss Legae…” (rolls eyes). I am not even going to start with my surname!

I love my son dearly, but he changed my voice. This is what I have to go through every time someone who doesn’t know me calls or someone who last spoke to me pre-pregnancy. I get asked what happened to my voice…I tell them, but I can tell they are not convinced. Perhaps I should be like Ledimo and swallow a hot coal maybe that will help.

But there’s a happy ending…my voice is better I must admit, but it’s still deeper that I am still referred to as a Mr or Sir or both in the same sentence. Oh well…at least I will regale my grandkids and great-grandkids with stories of how I turned into Ledimo! Tselane ngwana ka…LOL.

#Anonymous