Why I have NO Image, Photo and picture

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Disclaimer :This is a stolen article from Mas Kan (B.M.W production)

Most people wonder why I have never uploaded a profile photo. No one believes that I am the guy on the left among the three musketeers who have diligently served as my interim profile photo for a while.
Some wonderful lady friends gather guts and send me messages, saying they are heartbroken and tired of waiting to see the face behind all these craps I update. Some actually nag and seduce me to unveil my ‘handsome’ self on their ‘inboxes’ if at all I will never do it publicly. They promise to kiss the lips and place their chests on the phone screen to feel my six cubes if I will be kind enough to upload even a single photo.

I never ignore these honest concerns and sometimes I ponder at length, feeling as if I have failed and disappointed them. I feel bitter and guilty for this sin of omission. I wish it was so easy for me to upload a photo.

Why can’t I just pose, get a photo and upload it?

I have valid reasons why I don’t have my photo in the profile picture. Sincere reasons and convincing enough- with weight and sense.

For starters, I have never understood what these social media platforms need us to upload. Is it an image of ourselves, a photo or a picture? Are the three the same thing? Facebook calls it a picture, Twitter refers to it as a photo and Whatsapp an image I guess.

Forget about that.

Why on Earth don’t I have a profile image, picture or even a photo?

The first reason I decided to have my face properly concealed is to save my neck, name and future. Every wise man should follow my footsteps as a matter of fact. As all of you know, I am one of the most promising and upcoming young millionaires in post-colonial Africa. The moment Forbes will declare me a dollar millionaire, all of you know that women will come flooding from caves, brothels and courts claiming I am the father of their last born.

History has proven it.
Being the genius I am and knowing that my background isn't so clean, I had to hide from the start. In my village, campus, estate, and workplace and all over, ladies, out of PURE COINCIDENCE, have been blessed with kids who resemble me mia fa mia chembilecho wahenga. Just imagine the case where one of them takes me to court claiming I am the father, the kid’s ears alone will convince the judge I am the dad even though I am innocent. This fear is fanned by the fact that in my formative years before I was washed by the blood of Jesus I was ‘kinda’ generous with injecting life into wombs of those who wished to have babies. So far nobody has claimed I am biological father to their child, but I know it is because I am too poor to even pay attention.

To let the sleeping ghosts lie, I am not updating any photo soon which may remind them that I exist.

Another reason I am photo-less is rather economical than by choice. I would wish to take a good photo of myself, standing near a fence, lifting one leg and saluting. In that stunning photo I should be wearing a multi-coloured jeans trouser, a short-sleeved white Man united shirt and a yellow cowboy godfather. Safari boots and extremely large specs should complete the angelic outfit.

That’s my dream photo.

But how will I take such a photo with my black and white phone. The only photo it has are two hands which shake when I switch it on followed by a faded slogan- Nokia, Connecting People. It is a very durable Nokia brand I purchased in 1994 from my primary school teacher. I bought it as a second hand disposal and I guess the previous user had been using it for at least 5 years. Such a phone has witnessed at least 5 elections, 4 world cups, 3 popes and it was an eye witness when cats handed over their surname, pu**y, to our sisters. Troubling such a phone to take a photo is violation of phone rights and inhuman torture to the helpless gadget. The most complicated application it has is an alarm clock which sometimes forgets to ring at 5 and does so at 8 am, talk of memory lapse at old age. Forcing it to take a photo will give it a culture shock and untimely death. I am not so unkind.

As long as this scrap metal is the tool I expect to take a profile photo with, this dream will take a while.

But the other reason I am picture less I will say it in low tones not to raise much attention.

I told you that sincerely speaking, I doubt whether I can beat Mwai Kibaki in a beauty contest. I am not ugly but I must agree that I am facially challenged.

The moment I will upload my profile picture, most people will think I have photoshoped the nose. This is because I don’t know how it happened that my nose isn’t centrally placed but it inclines more to the left side. This gives me an imbalance facial form. Another thing I should whisper to you is that my lips are kind of exaggerated and they often overlap each other and if you are attentive when I am talking fast you may think I am clapping as the lips slap each other. When I yawn, the upper lip covers the eyes.

The ears are better except that their size is also a bit outspoken. They stand upright almost overtaking the head and if you see me from a distance you may think I am waving at you. The forehead is flat like a table and I was in fact once approached by Samsung as their brand ambassador to advertise their flat screens which I declined and demanded an apology since it was clearly an insult to my forehead.

Until the day I will overcome my evident low self-esteem, I am devoted to keep my photo a top secret
 
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