For the love of men; thigh monger edition.

To hunt or be hunted…


If you are having an emotional day… read no further.

You all know the type, or are the type. That man who stops time. He oozes so much machismo and can only be likened to a tall drink of sexy! And you will almost always meet him at the most unlikely places, making you all awkward and bothered…damn these hormones!

Stella walks into an interview… and claps her eyes on him. Instantly, the motto and objectives of the company she’s been cramming all morning have vanished. His presence is loud, the rest of the panel feels like little ants around a cube of sugar. He stares at her; she breaks a sweat despite the AC causing a riot with her sinuses. He asks no questions, she wishes he would… does he sound like Barry White?

You can ask us questions if you have any.

Ever the intelligent one, Stella asks a question.

“Should I get hired, will I be reporting to him?” pointing at the reincarnation of Zeus.

Stella didn’t get the job, or his number.

Anisa’s  wardrobe is missing something… she’s not sure what. She wonders around aimlessly, from store to store looking for that item to spice up her collection. And there he is. Looking like the answer to all her payers wrapped up in Kenya’s version of Idris Elba. Her car allowance can pay for his existence, but that does not stop Anisa from carrying on like a milk maid in heat. It is El-Nino season, but she wants to try on a pair of sandals… she needs help taking off her boots. She ends up selecting  items she will never wear, he graciously waits on her, carrying them to the till. He takes over from the cashier, because he has good customer service.

Anisa can only thank him, she cannot tip him. So she swipes her gold card, the one with all her three names. He takes note, calls her by your maiden name… sounds heavenly on his lips. She reaches into her wallet, pulls out a card, holds his gaze meaningfully and sashays off.

“Excuse me Nyaboke, you’ve dropped Elijahs card… you may need it.”

Wishing for the earth to swallow her has never been a fervent prayer until then.

What is with the traffic? Does the rain shrink the roads? Aaaaaaargh!

Monica lives alone, so there is no emergency in reaching home quickly.  She takes a detour, a quick drink and light dinner will do her some good. Anyway, she works far too hard not to reward herself when need be.  She pulls up to Pots and Palms, runs as fast as your Manolo Blaniks will let her,  makes an entry looking like a willing contestant to a wet T-shirt contest. And there he seats, long legged creature straight off the cover of a Mills and Boon! Why does everything else look like a wintery sky, while he has a shiny halo all around him? Monica completely disregards Beyoncé’s look alike , with her 20 inch Brazilian, and skin so clear of blemish she could puke…the bitch! Monica plants herself directly opposite him, swallowing eyefuls of his magnificence. He sees her, a gentle nod of acknowledgement. The universe gets tired of her pleas, the horse wearer gets up, lands a wet one on his lips, and departs. Like the alpha female that she is, Monica pounces on him, equipped with a freshly powdered face, red “come hither” lips, and a shirt still clinging to her generous chest. He smiles, she basks in her boldness… The waiter promptly brings her drink, behind him comes the soft padding of heels.

“Clifford darling, it’s pouring too heavily for me to access the car. Oh! Who’s your friend?”

This is what Lot’s wife must have felt like turning into a pillar of Salt.

Question remains …to hunt or to be hunted?

Mum and Dad…no relation!

This Nairobi will honestly never cease to amaze me!

How trends come and go, is a matter that should have national budget dedicated to it. Sherlock in all his dexterity will be gob smacked at reasons given for something’s that really should not be.

People… I have just realized why the term Mum and Dad are used to refer to your pastor, please believe me when I say… It is a silent cry for help!

I cannot speak for everyone. But it is taboo to seduce your parents. And by seduce I mean sexually! Would you prance around the house, wearing clothing that will have the devil blush in front of your folks? Would you seat across from them, crossing and uncrossing your legs whilst your hem line is somewhere north of your crack?
So why in heavens name would your dress the way you do while going to church? Are you taking your “I have nothing to wear” a bit too seriously? Please allow me to address some of these sin inducers!

You with the thorax! Strutting your stuff like Johnny “look at me” Bravo, how dare you display you wide shoulders and slender waist line like that! You muscle shirt is so tight that I am breathing for you! And them jeans, oooooh them jeans, Levi ought to pay you. Would it have killed you to dress as if you were going to an interview? Have some respect for crying out loud! How many times do you work out? Thrice? In the morning? Where exactly? I am asking for my single pals… for truth I am!

And you with the bandage dress! You must have done a dozen squats this morning… you back side can’t stop smiling…such cute dimples! And that jacket you have on, very chic, .although it only calls attention your nether region, and them heels… damn… Call up Gertrude and do a collabo.

The thing is, we all need to remember that these people of God are first human, and then pastors, fathers, spouses, not necessarily in this order. So when you dress in a manner screaming that church was not your final destination, how do you want them to react? Instead of focusing on making you a better person, the pastors be focusing on calming the flesh!

Please… let us not make each other’s lives difficult! If this trend continues, let each church have uniform, make us all “equal”.

Of sticks and stones…..and Njoki Chege.

To dish out anecdotes (opinion pieces as she likes to call them), that are not grounded in any research, and are heavily influenced by bias and emotions from Satan’s belly is a total walk in the park. In fact, I need only watch more telly (seated on my wide lazy ass) , refuse to interact with any books and then proceed to document my skewed observation to the entire nation. Yes… a pat on my “bony” back is in order.

Do not get me wrong, I do concur that being obese is a serious danger to one’s health. If your weight does not allow you to easily carryout daily activities such as walking, bending or even shaving your legs, then friend, you do need to lose some weight. However, to band all plus size women as obese and proceed to label “us” as unsexy is not only in poor taste, but a shameful display of ignorance.

That being said, I choose to educate Chege’s daughter on matters that lead to weight. Being an ever so slight 90kg’s, I am a self-qualified expert on the subject.
Slow metabolism
This is rare, but studies have shown that a slow metabolism, coupled with other factors such as genetics, age and sex can lead to weight gain.
Malfunctioning Thyroid Gland
Also known as Hypothyroidism, may lead to changes in the Thyroid stimulating hormone that will result in massive weight gain or loss, a test of ones TSH will reveal the range, and how it is to be treated.
Hormonal imbalance
Even with the most vigorous exercise and strict diet, an imbalance in your hormones will prevent successful weight loss. Unfortunately, women are more prone to this imbalance than men are. The condition is known as toxic oestrogen, which has pre-menopausal women suffer PMS, too much body fat around the hips and difficulty losing weight. Menopausal women will experience low libido, memory loss, poor motivation, depression, loss of muscle mass and increased belly fat.
Whether imagined or real, chronic stress will cause excessive release of a hormone called cortisol, which in turn causes raging appetite, metabolic decline, belly fat , decline in amount of muscle tissue.
Child birth
Yes, post baby fat is real. Depending again on factors such as genetics, hormones, stress levels and activity, this weight may stay with you or burn.
Children born to families prone to obesity will be more likely than not become obese. So no, this is not imagined it is real. This is also the genesis of the term “big boned”.

Stereotyping is one of man’s biggest downfall! Man will naturally fear and then hate what they do not know and do not want to understand. I am on a mission to eliminate stereotyping, just because I am of a more generous persuasion does not mean I am daft or slow or unhealthy! Before you judge, and proceed to make known your thoughts… please take a minute and reflect. Equating a 96kg woman to a cow, without knowing how she got there, is completely unnecessary! The mind is a powerful tool, if you choose to see the negative, you will carry it with you and it will consume you.

I am plus size, with no regrets, and I will continue to snuggle in this category for the following reasons.

I do not hate, I appreciate. In the unfortunate event that I break both arms, I will still be able to clap.
Let us sing about thin women with absolutely no curves” said no musician ever.
Can someone show me a skinny teddy bear. Someone, anyone, show me a thin teddy bear! No one? I thought so.
a Teddy bear, I am cuddly and warm. You need only brush by me and you will come away with joy and rays of sunshine… because I am usually in a happy space, and seldom hungry! And yes, I am aware Barbie dolls exist, but they hold no interest over me.
I have this area, its depressed… much like what I think of Njoki, but I digress. This zone, found above my hip and below my ribcage works well with my generous hips. This area, believe it or not, is possessed by many a plus size woman. It is popularly known as the waist. Love is what Njoki needs to handle…so she can stop spewing venom (please tell me you see what I have done there).

And finally, I am thick! thick around my hips, thick around my chest; there is not a minute that I do not love myself. I would rather much be thick in the flesh, than be Njoki’s type of thick. #plusfabulosity.

Yours Truly,

Wahu Otieno.

The thickness.