I don’t care what people say…

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There I was all decked out in my mesh shirt, nipples exposed, soft leather hat and chaffs showing off my well sculpted backside last month at the store.  I was staring at myself in the mirror and was thinking, there is no way, NO WAY I’m not going to win best dressed male in Soho, Queens and Rittenhouse Square.  They call it Thuper Thaturday in my circles.  I was so confident.  I had been doing this new workout call P69x.  Man, I’m not kidding when I say, I was ripped up a month before this contest.  My hips looked awesome.  

It was incredible the press I was getting.  People were all over me.  I had changed up my outfit here and there so as not to look like I was dressed the same at each appearance.  I had changed up the black mesh shirt to Yellow a few times.  It’s winter and yellow brings out my eyes.  Then a few times I wore that spiked choker people like.  I was all sexed up for Thuper Thaturday and about a week out I hear about this bougie motherfucker taking out my voters.  Those boys are so predictable, a tight jeaned, banana republic model shows up and they start drooling.  I don’t get it.  I have what people want.  I have been on top forever.  I’m a giver not a taker, like this other boy people are sweating.