You know that Toyota, with a big rear end.
To be honest I can't remember its name. Stuck in a narrow road with my blond American hair I knew that all the years I had toiled out in the diaspora fighting for a life free from Sugar daddies hadn't turned out fair. The initial pleasantries of a return back home had simmered, everything slowed down, the weekdays came and went with everyone busy at their professional jobs, fancy cars, and well-organized to- do's and to-go's. Returning to beloved Uganda dawned on me------ a big mistake!.
Life back home was so expensive I couldn't breathe- no more Dunkin Donuts coffee- there was fancy 'Starbucks like cappuccino', but my purchasing power was dwindling fast. There I was on a dirt road in the Toyota I had saved up for ---and yes you guessed it, got duped. It was not the version I had saved for -or imagined my dollars purchased. The singlehood I was running away from was deepening amidst the cross-over to 30z confusion. Everyone and her hootchie sister were rising up a career- business ladder, and or down the aisle so capably- not me. Just then a huge Mercedes Benz charged ever so elegantly toward me. I waited for it to pass-heavy with my thoughts and this new mineral makeup that wasn't working for me( mental note to self--return to MAC, try FIT ME or anything else).
Hello girl! when did you come back- gosh I knew the Mercedes owner, she was a class behind me in high school and the joy that overflowed from her ' hello' confirmed the wealthy dude she had scored, luxurious mansion laced with Dubai holidays. I am sorry I wasn't thinking feminist that day- the shame flow took over, here we go another one made it across the wealth marriage Goodlife track and sister big booty here had nada.
This is fiction y'all
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