Into a Housewife:

An impromptu bus ride on a Tuesday afternoon has motivated my return to the blogosphere.

I have been operating under the guise of having my life together, but several setbacks, including the deterioration of my idle vagina have sent me right back down to earth… ego [and urethra] barely intact.

However, I haven’t bared my Urethra in many, many moons.

Which is ironic, want ek het al n paar keer my gat gesien.

Now several things have happened since I bid Felicia farewell in my previous blog. I no longer wanted to be “Just a Hoe with babies”, but I have since learned and reluctantly accepted that this is how everyone who recognises me in Liberty  Promenade Mall will address me.

And when people who haven’t read my blog, or heard of me, happen to be within earshot of the very jovial “Oh my Gawd, Are you Sharna? The hoe?”… The looks on their faces are that of concern, disgust…. And confused judgement.

So of course, nothing has really changed.

I am lying.

Since my departure, I have gotten engaged to my sweetheart, I have bought a home – in which we live with my [our] two children [ They both call him daddy… Hi haters], and I have recently started planning my wedding.

I will be wed on May 6, 2017.

Let us take a moment to get very lekker.

And now, let the reality of having to plan a wedding in two months, for over 100 guests sink in.

Hello anxiety, my old friend.
But it hasn’t been all sunshine and roses.

In fact, the good Lord thought I was getting ahead of myself and incapacitated me for an entire week. A week I call the ab-pocolyse… In which a growth in my abdomen blocked my digestive tract, landing me in the ER. Convinced that my end of days would be met with jokes of me always being full of shit, I recommitted my heart to Jesus…. You know…. Just in case.

I laid on the drip, contemplating my demise, and seeing Sidney and Syria in my mind’s eye, stumbling upon my blog, reading of my many [many] sexploits. In my head, Twenty year old Sidney has long, curly hair, and is quite the looker, besides for his unfortunately crooked teeth. [The Bane of his father’s family… the Laattoe’s in Ottery, there by the mosque– May Doctor Dre grant his father Janatoul Firdous- get it? cos he’s a dead beat].

I really don’t deserve my audience.

And Rose, who would of course be 16, is in that phase where she really wants to be a good girl, but her brother’s friends keep accidentally detouring into her room.

Rape culture, my old friend.

And in the midst of her ‘should I give up the booty’ inner-debate, she finds my blog and decides that my liberation as a stupid twenty-something gives her my posthumous permission to be a whore.

Parenting is a 24/afterlife job.

The apple doesn’t fall far from the Jintu.

But I will elaborate soon.

In the same vein [yes, that is a joke about the drip], I resigned from my job as a glorified copy and paster, I cut off most of my hair [again] and I lost 25 kilograms [again].

I quit smoking [for the most part], and invited my parents to stay with me once their lease is up.

This seems admirable, but I really need the free babysitting.

And just as I thought I was doing moderately okay, my car breaks down in Kloof street, in front of my office… on the same spot where a few weeks ago I walked head first into a pole, in front of one of my journalists…

…who enjoyed my anguish with a very suspicious guffaw…

I walked my tiny 4×4 to a relatively safe parking area [Only had my window smashed once in that spot, so I am counting it as a win], and did what any independent woman who doesn’t want to admit she needs a man does…

I phoned my daddy.

And cried.

A lot.

“Daaaaddddyyy… my car brooooooke”.

My superhero got his friends in tow and was at my side in two hours. He first had to go look for fish at the beach.
On my father’s list of priorities, now that he is in his 60s:

Lam with brasse
See if the ouens caught any snoek
Save my daughter

This is why the diabetes took his toe.

Regardless, there is so much to tell you that I can’t even formulate a timeline. I am so excited and anxious to get into how I knew I needed to write again as I walked to the bus terminus….

…. Straight into an old friend… who I once exposed for having a threesome with me…
And we chatted and chatted as I remembered my past life of debaucherous encounters…
Numerous debaucherous encounters…

And I couldn’t help but giggle at how God has saved me.

Many of you have just decided to stop reading at this point.
Farewell, my heathen brethren.

But no, I have not suddenly converted into a bible basher who shoves the greatness of my Lord down the non-believer’s throat. Like I always tell my kids… Religion is not a penis.

I am, however, going to credit the man above for pulling me out of the trenches. When you have lived through as much as I have, one suddenly starts to more readily identify grace, and accept divine intervention.

I am a new person.

If you came here for the Hoe, I do not regret to inform you that she has died.

Herpes done finished that Thot.

But if you would like to get to know Shana Genever, and follow her journey, navigating religion, marriage, parenting and numerous failed attempts at not saying the ‘P’ word…

Stick with me.

I’d love to have you along for the ride.

PS: My name isn’t Sharna.