Baba Kajojo's shirt strained against the bulge of his belly. A heavy sigh always escaped his lips as he struggled to button his trousers.
He was the stereotypical man with the beer belly, a target of mockery, a representation of decadence and a source of contempt among women.
One day, he made the decision to go shopping at the mall and decided to walk down the crowded street.
The pavement was unforgiving, reflecting the harsh midday sun back into his bleary eyes.
Baba Kajojo's bulbous physique made him a gossip on the busy streets.
His attempts at conversation were met with courteous smiles and hurried departures, despite his desire to get the attention of the women he admired. He was a ghost, invisible to the people he wished to interact with.
Baba Kajojo had been trudging along, a symphony of keys jingling against his hip, when his wallet, a worn leather relic, decided to flee for freedom. It fell out of his pocket and hit the hard concrete with a gentle thud.
He came to a halt, his forehead furrowed in a mix of incredulity and frustration. Reaching for the fallen wallet, he knelt down, his knees popping and cracking in protest. But his hand, a mere inch away, stopped short.
Years of late-night nyama choma and binge drinking had rendered his beer belly an impassable barrier.
Baba Kajojo groaned, the sound echoing in the quiet street. His face, once youthful and carefree, now bore the weight of years, etched with the lines of regret and a burden of his own creation. The wallet, a symbol of his past, lay mockingly at his feet, a reminder of his current predicament.
He knew he couldn’t stay there forever, a crumpled figure on the sidewalk, defeated by his own body. He had to find a way. He pushed himself up, his chest heaving, and with a grunt, managed to manoeuvre his body to the edge of the sidewalk. He sat there, his back against the wall, and began to think.
This was more than just a fallen wallet that left its content strewn on the ground. It was a metaphor, a stark reminder of the consequences of his choices.
The beer belly affected his confidence and self-esteem. He always felt self-conscious and insecure when constantly reminded of his protruding belly.
This negatively impacted his social interactions and personal relationships. He avoided situations where his body was on display or where he had to interact with women.
His trepidations were well founded. He had heard, after all, that women like men who are self-assured and secure, and a beer belly can make this impression less accurate.
A beer belly is frequently linked to binge drinking, which can be harmful to one's physical well-being.
In addition to increasing the risk of diabetes, cardiovascular disease and some types of cancer, excessive drinking can cause weight gain and obesity. A beer belly can also make men look overweight and unattractive to women.
A beer belly also suggests a disregard for self-care. Having a beer belly often means that men are not paying attention to their diet, exercise and overall health.
Baba Kajojo wanted to reclaim his life, to find a way to bend over without the weight of his past holding him down. He had to change.
He eventually decided to frequent the gym. He desired to be noticed, to feel strong and to command attention.
The weights became his confidants, the sweat his tears of frustration and determination. It took long but finally, his body transformed, muscles rippling beneath his skin, his posture radiating confidence.
And then the murmurs were different. Hitherto indifferent women now hovered around him, their gazes resting on his body. He was no longer the inconspicuous, timid man.
He was Baba Kajojo, the man with sculpted arms. His desire for validation was satiated by the intoxicating attention.