By Hon Jim Bonnie
When you’re still young, beautiful and energetic, you shun young men as you go for sponsors from whom you get money to buy Brazilian hair, chemicals to bleach your skin and makeup to make you look like Angelina Jolie yet you look like Kibaki.
You hit 30, the sponsors start running away from you to hunt for younger ladies for you’ve hit your expiry date in the shelf of sponsorship.
The number of abortions you’ve carried out outnumber the number of times you’ve had sex and your breasts look like you’ve breastfed eleven kids.
You’re also facing financial crunch as there are no more sponsors in the market to milk. Uko down financially. All your undies don’t fit for the fake booty maintained by sponsor’s cash has shrunk.
Too bad you never used money from them to start a business of your own or advance your career.
All you were doing is shop for expensive dresses and expensive alcohol to show the world that you’re on top game. You even thought ladies sweating their ass off to feed their families are fools.
The reality starts dawning on you that you wasted away in leisure. Neither the sponsors want you because you’re a spent cartridge nor the young men for you look like the devil out of the woods.
Of course you’ve no friends because you were rolling big and you saw no need of being in the company of foolish poor people. So, your only option is to get comfort in marriage.
You can’t ask for it on social media because we know you and how you were showing us photos of your buttocks after enjoying sex with octogenarian sponsors.
So you erect billboards on the streets with the hope that you’ll land a man who doesn’t know you.
You’re also very clever. You don’t include your tattered image. All you need is a man. You don’t care whether he pulls a cart or hustles in industrial area.
When you fail to get one, you start calling men Dogs. Idiot.