Living life on the dark skinned fat lane;

I have decided to boycott some men. Turns out it is true that indeed men are from Mars and women are from Venus. First of all, I have never read that book and I am not intending to. I read its preview and decided that I don’t require all that negative energy in my brain.

I thought we, the women of this world are complicated.

Clearly, I had not met this new breed of blatantly misogynistic men. The ones that come up with thesis after thesis about how the perfect female should look like.

What is even more stupefying about most of them is that they have no girlfriends, they are short, have potbellies the size of five rugby balls, live with their mums, have zero amount in their bank account, and masturbate their tiny willys to the sounds of crickets in their backyard.

So let me take this leap to address the dark skinned women who are labeled as fat and ugly in this deity-heavy men world.

I know that you have read a lot of self-help books about self image but I will write anyway. I am the self proclaimed queen of women issues, remember? But then again, you are better off reading another cliché blog than reading those knock-knock jokes, yes?

I hate reading self help books more than the average human because I know a fast money making scheme when I see one. I mean, all you need to do is coin a very catchy book title like how to make money when while sleeping and voila! You have a raging best-seller under your also very catchy name.

Ever realized how world renowned authors have very divine names? Names that seduce you into swiping your way to brokelane…these peeps add a lot of sexiness to their previous dull and boring names. Like a Robert suddenly transforms himself to Roberta, Mary is now Marilyn. Hell, Imma write a book myself!

The more I visualize myself in a penthouse indulging in sex orgies the more I wonder where I am doing this blog thingie wrong.

Back to today’s topic; we all have moments when we feel stressed out, bouts of depression hits us in places we never thought existed in our bodies before but as women, we know our body flaws and we flaunt them like obsessed bitches, we know the inaccuracy of every weighing scale in the face of this earth.

We know when we have gained superfluous Kilograms but we don’t care, we know high heels will maim our backs before we are forty but so what? We don’t give a rat’s ass either.

What I find intriguing is that there is a group of whole grown ass men who misuse their employer’s internet the whole day yapping about their ideal kind of woman and discussing about how ugly our female genitalia is. There is no other word for it except stupid.

If I want a body like beyonce’s, I will work out a treadmill like a demented creature, but not because of some poll conducted by idle men. Preserve the minerals in your brain and write a book about women instead since you seem to know so much about us, and while at it success and luck in reaching page number 3.

These men will floor us by reminding us how in our twenties, Julie Gichuru looks younger than us yet she has gazillion babies. We really love her, but that’s just about it.

Our body fat cells multiply just by smelling fries a Kilometre away.

Our bodies are different as heaven and hell and we accepted this long since we hit puberty. Your constant reminder just serves to show that you have stuff to sort out in your esteem issues department because while you bitch about it, we are having lunch dates at Pizza inn with our girlfriends.

Another amusing group is the women who worship these men like they are some kind of genius. They will aaw and oohh to anything they say.

A dude will say something like, ‘I am eating an apple’ and the chics will say something like ‘aaaawww you are so clever you eat apples!! Marry me!’ No wonder marriage therapists are extremely rich.

I dont have an English word to describe these ones.

And now dear brothers, look at the pictures below,

Do you look anything close to that?
Well, go hang then.