#getalife...

A self-help guru (now why do they call themselves that?) once asked me what my dream car was.
You shudda seen my face! I had no idea. I just said, “A big car.” I think some people at the conference laughed. At me.
Not wanting to embarrass me further, he moved on to the next person.

So today I was walking out of the Serena when I was accosted by this black monster of a car cruising up to the entrance. “Now, this is my dream car!” I thought to myself. I made sure to check. It had Jeep written on its left side in small letters. There were no scratches on its body, the paintwork was still intact, bumpers tight, tires treaded.  Now these were WHEELS!

The driver of the UAX had drawn up the tinted windows so I couldn't see inside.

I thought of my UAH under the shade in the lower parking area and I laughed. Where do people get money to buy such luxurious rides?

I thanked God for UAH which has taken me on many a journey, with my nieces and nephews to the zoo, gone flying with a screaming woman in labor to the hospital, carried sacks of maize from the garden, and faithfully brought me to the office in the mornings. I cannot give up UAH for anything right now.

Many times you hear someone sigh about her husband who is so boring that he can’t even laugh at his own jokes. So she goes and flirts with her workmate, offering to make him cups of tea which he doesn't even want to drink.

Then you see Sarah’s hair, a long, straight, black mane. You go to Gazaland and buy a cheap weave so you can look like her.

You lie awake at night thinking about your cousin’s double-storeyed house project which is now entering the roofing phase. He must be stealing, you say. So you go to the bank and get a loan on your few thousands per month salary.

You want Jane’s legs. She looks so nice in short straight dresses, and black tights. Why can’t my thin bony ankles be like hers? So you condemn yourself to the prison of wearing trousers so no-one can see your pins.

That presenter who rolls his R’s and abbreviates his greetings like “Sup guys!” becomes your role model. So you also go rolling your tongue and putting R’s where L’s are supposed to be.

These days every guy is checking out Kim Kardashian’s assets. No one is looking at your blackboard. So you Google a butt implants doctor to fix it. The results say he is in Thailand and off you go. Two months later, your butt has drooped to unimaginable depths.

You open the papers and there is a picture of your ex with his new bride draped all over him. They look so happy, smiles pasted all over their faces. Your wedding is coming up next year and you swear that this one will “break trees” (as Baganda say). So, you start calling daily wedding meetings and people soon get tired of your invitation SMSes.

That woman upstairs is always gushing about her clever children who go to an international school. You go home and look at yours and feel disappointed. You wish you had more money so that you take them out of those gumbaru schools where the English is “is” and “was”.

Your workmates eat pizza  for lunch every two days of the week. Tuesday and Friday. Nga for you, you are feasting on tea and groundnuts and pining for a slice. Bambi, remember that that pizza is just baked dough with unhealthy toppings that make people fat! (oh, do they really?)

You feel ashamed when someone offers you a lift. Kwani its only you without a car? Do you even know how much people are spending on those guzzlers? And some of them are on loan by the way.

You lust for a man with a six pack. Those tight abs look so good. Your boyfriend is a fat lazy slob who has never heard of a gym and calls press-ups “preshups". Do you know that not all that glitters is gold? That clothes don’t make a man and that you can’t judge a book by its cover? It may just be the abs that look good, empty shell inside.

You yearn to be appreciated. You yearn to be in the limelight. You hang out with the celebs, even if it means carrying their handbag, or running to get them chips and chaps for supper. Do you even know what stress those celebs have to get through with the tabloids writing about them. On the toilet. Who they’re cheating with?

Get a life. See the value in you.