Mon ami St. Laurent,
Hope you are well and still in shape. I know I have been away for a while, but this is not the time to fling blame, a day will come when we shall address our differences. Kanye West said it. I'm coming home again. A time where each weekend will necessitate we meet new people; a time where more time will be spent with you and not my jeans and jackets. (I know you hate the jeans and jackets) But best believe you redefine special events. And right about now, I need you to come through.You remember that time I was courting Sheila, you came through for me. One look and she couldn't get enough of me. Old times! Wonder what happened to that one though!
This Sunday, I plan on meeting a special person, a person who I cannot share about in a letter. And if my memory serves me right, my reputation precedes me. I do remember Joana, and yes, I am aware that your texture stretches a mark at the mention of her name; a beauty she was, is and hopefully will always be. But that’s a story for another day, a story of how I lost out on the best girl. Laurent, I promise you, I do not plan on disappointing. And neither should you. So a fit is paramount. About Giorgio and Tommy, do not ask me about the Giorgio Armani; that’s for the rainy days or should I call them the dry days; times when I have lost weight. When forgetting my wallet at home is more of a relief than a cause for panic. When my body has taken to picking its shape from the skeleton, thank God these bones are not subject to these changes. Likewise, the Tommy Hilfiger I picked for my crush Michelle’s wedding was at a time when life had been more than fair to me, a time when I powered my wallet with shrapnel and hit Ndeeba for a heavy but cheap meal.
While you were away, my doctor got me working out. Yes, working out!! And trying all sorts of exercise, I started swimming like I would be “Finding Nemo” after all. My doctor worried that I would get a complication, I wonder why he doesn’t have a comment when walking is out of circumstance and not a choice. It has not been easy but I must say; I like the taste of the “nakati” better than KFC’s Zinger. Laugh all you want at my cheapness but the "K" in the "KFC" actually does represent "Kentucky" and not the Bugolobi "Kataza." Oh maybe it’s the times, January did have a toll on me.
As I consolidate with my accountant on how to get you to the dry cleaner, I am left with a task that I always suffer with every time we are at this path, choosing a bow tie. I should be exuding just the right amount of sophistication. If I only knew what she intends on wearing, we would have a starting point, but just as I plan on surprising her, she plans the same.
Till we meet on Sunday evening, for now I have to trace my shoes for the occasion, all I remember is I had to duck when Nas’ girlfriend threw a shoe at me. I'm guessing she had had a little too much to drink.
PS. Agent 007 got nothing on Tux.