When your woman starts posing questions concerning her weight, that my friend, is your sign that, for you, hell may have just shown up to your doorstep. Because this question DOES NOT have a correct answer. No man has ever gotten it right and you are not about to be the first. You are doomed, whichever way you answer. And once you give a wrong answer, appeasing the woman will be an uphill task.That's why a color-blind guy will be seen hovering near the florist, with no idea what to buy. All he knows is he needs to appease some angry woman at home , and he's read somewhere that flowers does that pretty well. For for him to get home and watch her toss his very last card into the trash-can. He may have plucked the bunch off someone's fence, but that's beside the point. At least, the man tried.
Or he might decide to go the designer lingerie way. Never mind the fact that he will probably get the size wrong anyway, and end up escalating the tension even further when she asks who else he had in mind when he bought the skimpy wear. Maybe we should examine why a 'no' answer will earn you a few nights inside the shepherd-dog kennel, and why 'yes' will earn you the death sentence, preferably through starvation and slow strangulation.
'NO'
A guy who answers no to the overweight question, is at that particular moment wishing he wasn't born a man. He knows he is done for. Trying to withdraw the answer will lead to a small earth-tremor, so that's out of the question. He has always known his day in court would come, but no one told him it would come this early. And because a woman only asks this question while standing before you, arms akimbo, the guy's exit route is blocked. Crawling out through the woman's legs would be outright dumb for then, he would have his neck trapped between her ankles, a rather unmanly sight. Every move is being watched. And he can't say he is temporarily blind, for this chic knows her man well.
'No' means he is a liar, especially if she knows she's got inflated boda-boda tires around her waist. So she'll accuse the man of always telling lies about everything. He'll be accused now of having lied about the day he was born, his age and even his feelings for her. The only thing she is sure of at this point, is his sex. Or she wouldn't be there at all.
'No' means the guy is dishonest. And she will yap on and on about how much she's prayed to nail herself a honest man, only to get a lying orangutan in a suit, for her troubles. She will state categorically that domestic abuse starts from dishonesty and she is unwilling to take her chances with a man showing those signs. Quoting research findings from a source she can't immediately recall, she'll state that a man who lies about weight, will lie about anything, including his whereabouts. And because of that, a bell need to be clamped tight on his neck, so authorities can tell where the poor bloke has headed to this time. And who he is with, as well. And with that, an otherwise outgoing brother, who enjoyed throwing rounds for the boys, now suddenly starts watching the seven o'clock news from his couch.
He'll be accused of being too engrossed on other women's looks, to take an interest in his own. He'll take the blame for all the deep fried chicken this woman has been known to swallow in whole. I mean, what's a neglected girl supposed to do?. If he is out with the boys, the smart thing to do for a chic, would be to lie on the couch, hugging Fluffy the teddy-bear, with just two to three take-a ways of fries, to kill the boredom.
He is squarely to blame for the bludgeoning stomach and the non-existent waist-line. This lying bastard must also be the reason the woman keeps procrastinating gym sessions, choosing instead to watch people working out on The Fitness Channel, as she cuddles her cat, while drinking its milk. In her mind, she'll assume she's the instructor, take one more sip and saunter to sit in front of her mirror in tears. Because of this man, now she's turned into a slob that rolls, where she was supposed to walk. If the item she wants in the supermarket is at the first-floor, she stands at the bottom of the stairs, looks up, then cries. Because if she begins the upward climb now, she has no hope of making it to first floor before dusk and she knows it. Climbing the damn stairs is a man's job, she'll mutter as she frantically reaches for her phone to call this useless man so he can come and climb the stairs himself. The price you pay for saying no!
'YES'
A guy who goes for yes, is outright suicidal. Not much can be done to rescue this one. His demise was confirmed the moment that thought began forming in his half brain. He is a dimwit that has no clue. He deserves every moment of torture that will come his way, for embarrassing all living things.
If you answer to the affirmative, then be ready for total starvation in the bedroom. This is where i will ask such a man to carry their own cross, and leave us out of his twisted mind. Because if you are starved in this area, you loose weight from the loins, onward to the the brains, so please starve alone. Lunacy follows closely thereafter. All because you wouldn't call a fat woman skinny. Call her Tyra, Beyonce or even Naomi Campbell.
No matter what you've read, leave Oprah out of this one. Call her Ann Kagame (The Rwandese President's daughter has effortlessly managed to make all professional models look old and wrinkled), even when the blind can see she is slightly fatter than the women in Afro-cinema. Either that, or you can start wearing your jeans to bed. Because there will be someone else in jeans, tighter than yours in that same bed.
Admitting that she's fat, means you are no longer attracted to her. And trust me, you don't want to go down this road, because you will loose. Admit it only if you have all along been looking for the exit door from the relationship, fling or whatever it is you reckon you have. Because she will hold and use this against you. You've hit her below the belt, and that's treason in her mind.
You will be branded a loser who doesn't know how to please a woman. You will be called man's greatest liability since Aleister Crawley. An experiment gone awry. A waste of skin that would have found better use making footballs, than covering your sorry mass. And you are lucky i added 'M' on the word 'Mass', or it would have described you better. You will be the topic of discussion in the next five Chama meetings. All women will click their tongues, then roll up their tinted car windows when they see you. Others will click, then walk away swinging their behinds, the moment you show up. Its war, buddy. Its war. And you started it, but now its others who'll end it you. Word about you will spread like wild fire in women circles. Even the local hookers will give your table a wide-berth. At the bar you will be served by Mwangi and Mugambi, bearded men with oil in between their finger nails and who spit green froth as they speak. Shiku will stare at you from the corner, wave half-heartedly , then go back to watching her soap. Yours is an unpardonable crime. And that you committed it in your own home makes it even worse. You deserve death by firing squad, if all women were to have it their way.
This, i guess leaves us men in a rather peculiar position. And as long as the questions concerning weight keep coming, we have no other choice but to keep on lying. Or running from it, though a guy can only run for so long. This we all know. So ladies, take this or leave it--we'll answer all questions you ask truthfully, and honestly.
Admitting that she's fat, means you are no longer attracted to her. And trust me, you don't want to go down this road, because you will loose. Admit it only if you have all along been looking for the exit door from the relationship, fling or whatever it is you reckon you have. Because she will hold and use this against you. You've hit her below the belt, and that's treason in her mind.
You will be branded a loser who doesn't know how to please a woman. You will be called man's greatest liability since Aleister Crawley. An experiment gone awry. A waste of skin that would have found better use making footballs, than covering your sorry mass. And you are lucky i added 'M' on the word 'Mass', or it would have described you better. You will be the topic of discussion in the next five Chama meetings. All women will click their tongues, then roll up their tinted car windows when they see you. Others will click, then walk away swinging their behinds, the moment you show up. Its war, buddy. Its war. And you started it, but now its others who'll end it you. Word about you will spread like wild fire in women circles. Even the local hookers will give your table a wide-berth. At the bar you will be served by Mwangi and Mugambi, bearded men with oil in between their finger nails and who spit green froth as they speak. Shiku will stare at you from the corner, wave half-heartedly , then go back to watching her soap. Yours is an unpardonable crime. And that you committed it in your own home makes it even worse. You deserve death by firing squad, if all women were to have it their way.
This, i guess leaves us men in a rather peculiar position. And as long as the questions concerning weight keep coming, we have no other choice but to keep on lying. Or running from it, though a guy can only run for so long. This we all know. So ladies, take this or leave it--we'll answer all questions you ask truthfully, and honestly.
But on this one, you have to settle for a lie.
