ChiBurna, a social media user, turned to her page to reveal the surprising reason her father had denied her after her birthday.
According to her, her father had just denied her because she was excited about her birthday and had her nails done when she didn’t have a job or a husband.
Sharing his situation, he wrote:
MY FATHER JUST DISOWNED ME!
I PAMPERED MYSELF WITH MY MONEY FOR MY BIRTHDAY.
I HAVE NO JOB.
I turned 23 on Sunday, the 22nd of September. I was happy. 22 was a great year, not because I’d made any money but because I had grown.
My dad is a deacon, a very critical person and the “Commander in chief” of my household.
I didn’t wear trousers as the fattest person in the house till I was in the university and I kept hiding them. He only allowed them when he found out I’d been abused again.
Since service year, I’ve been surviving on my own. (My mum is the most supportive person ever and my best friend, so she helps when she can.) I haven’t received a dime from my father since my service year but i guess, what do I need more than a roof over my head and food for?
If I need lady things so bad, I’d get a husband or as little as, a job. I’m constantly hassled about getting a job because, “you should be taking up some responsibilities as the first child.” but I have NOTHING, asides my degree and some skills i learnt and couldn’t use…
because “if you need a new phone, get a boyfriend/husband. Chewing gum boys cannot help you.” How do I even go about getting a job, the whole Google apps on my phone crashed and can’t work because OS too low. How did I get the phone sef, long story.
But weeks before my 23rd birthday, I was happy and even did a whole countdown because despite all my problems, I was healing, the numbness was gone, I was at peace, things were working (in bits but I was/am grateful).
I started making wigs, I could now open my mouth and talk to people (still hard but we trying), I lost some weight, my mum managed to help me start my PGD. For the first time in YEARS, I felt alive and I was going to celebrate my 23rd in my little way.
I made three wigs the week before and my clients paid the Friday before my birthday, I took out my savings and my tithe and went to get my manicure and pedicure done for Sunday. I fucking deserved a treat!
So I have naturally long nails and the few times I’ve done my nails, out of fear, I get them done in the natural shape of my nails and paint them nude…nothing catchy but this time, I went all out, instagram style and painted them blue. I didn’t think it would be a problem.
Sunday came and I danced danced my heart out in church and my dad noticed my nails but ko ko mi, I’m breathing, I am happy.
Got home and my secondary school friends took me out for sharwama and drinks, I felt too special for the first time in so long and I got home at 11pm (never happened but I’d called before hand to let my parents know I was in the area and would get home late).
I got home, there was light and as I was about to go to my room, my dad called me back and asked me to show him my nails. Showed him and he asked why I got the two hands done, why I couldn’t emulate my mum or mummy G.O and insinuated i didn’t have husband just because.
I simply told him I wasn’t looking to be anybody else and it was just for my birthday and it would be off soon because I cannot even work with it. He flared up and told me if it wasn’t all off by Friday, I should be ready to leave his house and…
I jokingly reminded him I was travelling during the weekend so I’d have to keep the nails for a little longer than Friday and went to sleep.
He refused to let me make/serve his breakfast for the first time in more than ten years since Monday morning and I honestly didn’t read much to it or give It any thought. Just felt like, he wanted his wife doing that for now (I’ve enjoyed the extra sleep tbh).
This morning tho, I got my ass up went to help in the kitchen because It already seemed too fishy and served his food. After eating, he called me and asked to see my fingers and I showed him (save my thumbs, the nails are still intact).
The shouting fit began (i stood looking throughout) and he said I’m not his daughter anymore and I should pack my things by tomorrow, Friday, drop my keys, delete his numbers off my phone and leave his house.
He seemed serious and If he is, LOL, I’m leaving. I am not apologizing either. He didn’t wish me a happy birthday, told people in church to come ask me where the cake was, we didn’t even cook the usual Sunday rice and I try to make myself happy, you’re angry.
I’m not even a bad child. Everything I’ve done in my life was to please my parents and it never seemed enough. I lost myself, I struggled and I couldn’t say anything because I had to show good example. I do something one time for myself and I’m now Jezebel…okay.
I don’t even know where I’ll go or what I’ll do but I’m not begging so I’ll pack my bags and watch it all unfold.
I’m just sorry for my mum because anything that happens from now on would be blamed on her.