A Letter from a Secret Admirer. (Woman In Your Prime)

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Dear woman in your prime,
The brightness of the day has given me the opportunity to write to you this letter. How are you? I hope you are fine as I am here. I am sorry if this is too old for an introduction to my letter; I just find it more comfortable to write than the way modern people write today. I am writing to you this letter, for the first time, to show you my secret admiration of how you have grown up to be a wonderful lady, and how headstrong you have been all these years. I can’t pretend not to have seen you; I have, it is just that my shyness wouldn’t allow me to open up. Anytime I try to pour my heart out, I get torn between the devil and the deep blue sea: to either use the only banal words I have, or to keep my admiration within me, for it to eat me up till I go six feet deeper. Today, I’m taking the risk; after all, what won’t kill you will make you stronger, so I will take the chances. I have contracted Achilles for arrows of courage, and Romeo for his soothing words; that is why I am being loquacious today. Once my courage and words expire, don’t ask me questions about them. I borrowed them; I’m saying them under the influence of something.

Today, I am not sending you only a note of my admiration; I want to advise you as well. At least it’s better to kill two birds with one stone, especially when you know it is unlikely to find another stone anytime soon. Now that I know you are getting bored with my ranting, let me be straightforward.

Time is the only element of nature that constantly runs without getting tired. It is a principle that everyone understands; even the thunderbolt and the other Bolt do. I hope you agree with me; or should I explain further? Okay let me put it this way. There were the days of old when we, I mean, you and I, played and bathed together (especially in the rain) because we didn’t see much of a difference in us. Even though I stood to urinate, and you had to squat, I thought it was just a matter of skill. I could pat your buttocks and nothing would happen. But when our ages gained some weight, that changed; you started isolating yourself from me. You grew shyer of me as the days went by. I didn’t like it; I didn’t know why you wouldn’t sit on my laps anymore. Later, I saw that some two beautiful bumps had emerged on your chest. I asked myself where your mummy had got them for you, because I saw that she had heavier ones. I gave up trying to understand it. I felt it was a ploy to take you away from me. But I liked how you had grown up: so beautiful in innocence. All these happened with the passage of time, my old friend. I could go on ad infinitum with these memories that I preserved with salt from the Oguaa seamen, so let me end the reminiscence here and continue with the core of my letter.

By this same way that time didn’t stop running from your adolescence, so would it never cease running now that you are an adult. Today, you live in a day and age when modernism has taken centre stage in the affairs of men. I pity you because the trends are changing so fast and I wonder how you are keeping up with the dynamism. I feel your struggles, but please always remember to take it easy with life. Life is just like an egg, if you hold it tightly, it will break in your hands, and if you hold it carelessly, it will fall and break as well. Be circumspect!

A time will come when your makeup cannot cover up anymore; the skin on your face will protest against how it has suffered from abuse, misuse and overuse of chemicals. Such a day will come when all the body lotions, facial cleansers, wipes and creams will feel the wrath of an unleashed skin. As to when this will happen, I don’t know.

There will be a day when your twin towers, the two bumps I couldn’t touch those days, nature’s reservoir of free milk, will be tired of standing; they may decide to bow after an eventful working life. They would rest in an armchair and see how you would fare without their showcase.

I am dreading the day that your curvaceous hips and callipygian defences will give up on their defensive role. The day they will decide not to show up in the mini skirts, body cons, and tight jeans, for any outing you take them. Will you be comfortable when the attention shifts from you to other voluptuous ladies in their prime? Don’t bother answering this; I understand the feeling.

I don’t know about this; I simply cannot tell when this day will be; but there will be a day that your enviable flat tummy, Cambodian hair, artificial nails, well-lined eye brows, fleshy calf, 100-pound thighs, and golden legs will not matter to you anymore. It will be interesting the day they will be tired of supporting you when you step out in your mountain-tall high-heels.

I am not looking forward to seeing these days anytime soon; so until then, continue to be the wonderful woman I know. Don’t let the winning spirit die; pursue your dreams and stand for what you believe in. I will repeat: continue being a wonderful woman; be courageous when you step out in style, cover up, take good care of yourself, eat well and stop being on diet unnecessarily; be trendy in fashion, and enjoy the beauty of your prime. I bet you will miss it so badly.

Remember that whatsoever you do with your body in your youth today, you will pay for it in your old age.

Thank you for your time.

Your secret admirer,
Hamlet

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