At this rate, years just need to stop. If I look at myself and look back when I was 21, I can’t see any difference! Ok, I lie. I have grown plumper. I have dated people. In fact I was this close to becoming a missus but looks like the train of marriage passed when I was sleeping.
I was reading somewhere about the difficult phase for a man being from 24/25(?). You should ask women! It’s a tough stage. Sigmund points that at this stage, people are supposed to have paired and identified mates. Others start families, get stable jobs.
Women at this stage are in shock of how quick the years are moving. They want to have the dream lives (blame it on media). They want to start touring Europe, chat with Beyonce, email John Legend and he responds, go for weekly massages, live in mansion with thousands of rooms, have a swimming pool in the yard, go mountaineering, have this big company. You walk in with a mini skirt and an expensive handbag after being dropped by your chauffeur who calls you ma’am because you are THE madam! As you pass by the receptionist, she calls, “Good morning Miss Nasipwondi?”.You rush through the day’s plans and snap. “Sempeyo, please step into my office” “yes ma’am” “please represent me in tomorrow’s meeting. Please ask Akinyi to mail me the particulars. She will know”. At lunch time, you step out of office and grab lunch in a nice restaurant with one Mr. Kinuthia. He briefs you of the competitive tenders and urges you to consider them, particularly the ones for Ministry of Roads and for Telecommunication. Immediately you call up Korir, your financial consultant. In the evening, your man friend for 5 years picks you from your house and you go out for dinner next to the beach. It is simply beautiful. He makes you laugh hard and teases you how you are an awful boss, too punctual and demanding and that you shouldn’t take life too seriously.
That’s fairy tale. We are trapped. You have a job, not your dream job probably. You are lucky if you actually are paid through the bank. A good number are paid via mpesa! Surely cant employers give you the luxury of having an ATM card to carry in your purse? Some are given envelopes with their month’s pay. (Teachers on board do you copy?). High chances are your boyfriend, if you still believe in love, is also struggling, financially, with mpesa/envelope. If your God of perpetual succor shore his light on your path, you have a financially stable man. Chances are you live in a…in a… ok, no adjectives. You live in a neighborhood that you just…ok, forget it. You live in a room that you pay for and that’s what matters. Your mpesa transactions are minimal and your account faces threat of closure. The one nostalgic time you had a bank account was when you had HELB. You survive on 20 bob credit, 10 for masaa ya sms( bless you Safaricom) and the other 10 for bundles. Now you praise your living God if Safaricom has given you 30 bob as your target for storo ibambe. Do you even know some people have a target of 900 bob? We are so worlds apart! End month shopping, nothing like ST. IVES or facial scrubs, nothing like oriflamme products. Nothing like massages and spas. Everything you do it yourself. Like washing your hair with shampoo and massaging your tired legs. You go to Tribeka and stick to guarana. Chances are you dream of having a business but your clogged mind tells you the capital should be 1m.
Suddenly, you discover all your friends are having babies and the most devastating is when you see your age mates actually doing weddings. Wait? Where did they get all the money? Is the man a drug lord, is he on pension or something, is he mafia, dammit where did she get him? You buy your clothes in inama boutique. You look at other friends who have accomplished in life like enemies. They upload photos in Miami, Sarova and in flights. The closest you have gotten to a flight is when it passes lowly where you live. You brand your accomplished friends as proud and whores. (Why are we women so dark). You really want to have a saving culture, but save what? You in fact tried saving and 2 months down the line, you saw nice 1000 bob shoes and bought them.
Look, I can’t wait to reach menopause!