Older women can remarry and live happily ever after
By - Jan 1st 1970
Our fathers were the last lucky men that ever enjoyed their kingdoms as men. Their women stayed at home and moved with them from one job location to another each time they moved stations. Because they had no financial freedom, they stayed loyal to their husbands even if the relationships were abusive or unsatisfying in one way or the other. Their women revered them and took pride in supporting their progress and achievements.
They would refer to them by the names of their professions. Wives would be heard dropping statements like ‘I will inform Daktari or I will pay back your money as soon as Mwalimu receives his salary’. Marriages were stable and women happily focused on childbearing which worked to pin them down to nurturing the young ones usually until they were past their serviceable years.
Now, times have changed and marriages are threatened from all corners. Women in their fifties look as attractive as ever. Because they only express milk from their breasts while nursing, their boobs are well preserved as they strategically bar babies from putting weight on them, pulling, and tagging the mammary glands recklessly while lactating. With such intact chests, old women have earned themselves a new tag in the sexual marketplace from younger males who thirst for them sexually despite fitting in the age brackets of their sons. They are now termed as MILFS, if you know what that means.
In cases where the force of gravity prevails, push-up bras have been invented to mitigate the fall of the domestic soldiers to ensure that they stand intact always.
Being well preserved means that men are no longer at peace knowing that the mothers of their children still command so much following from other service providers that won’t stop bidding for part of their job scope. The fact that we now go to work each day balancing delicately on six inches-high heels means that we spend more time away from our spouses than in the office spaces; our backsides somehow always propped out to provoke every onlooker. The net effect is that we are always surrounded by alternative males who only see us in our perfect state - tummies tucked in and flowing hair.
Unlike our mothers who always reeked of milk while nursing, we wear expensive colognes to smell attractive to all and sundry that interact with us out there.
With each compliment, our confidence soars high, and with such rising assurance, the man under siege is the husband at home. These men are cornered because, unlike our fathers, they can no longer make us feel old and spent when external peer review says otherwise. The advent of social media has heightened our freedom even further. What with the freedom to interact virtually with the entire world brought to our doorsteps by Facebook, Tiktok, Snapchat, Twitter, and Instagram among other platforms. You see, our mothers would be frustrated but still try to shower and look good to attract the same man who puts them down again and again in a bit to save their marriages. Not anymore! Today, all a woman has to do is upload a sumptuous photo of her behind on her status and have streams of men lining up in the inbox to entice her.
This attention fixes our groove and boosts our confidence beyond the wildest imagination of any husband. The tones of approval messages by men thirsting for us in the privacy of our phones are enough to push our confidence to the zenith.
We cannot be caged to one man anymore because, with a swipe of the phone, we are linked to all men of the world; be they Europeans, Caucasians, the Mandingos, and even the flamboyant West Africans that unlike our husbands call us the sweet nothings that numb us to submission. The concept of office husbands is one that cannot go away.
These are men who have no obligations to us and perceive us as the best thing the universe ever served. They have no emotional attachment to us. They envy our men and cannot understand why the omuhusbands do not worship the ground where we walk. Because the office men have never shared a house with us, they see us as perfect dolls who don’t even defecate.
They imagine that we wake up with lipsticks perfectly worn and think that we do not nag. They have no idea that we snore louder than an old Bedford truck and can actually be very moody while outside our cheerful office versions.
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