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May 27, 2013 | by  | in Opinion |
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Secret Diary of Kimbryo

Dad seems pretty certain I’m a boy. Last night, he kept on saying to Mum’s belly that he wants “him to have an easy life, not like Yeezy life”. Then he decided he wants to call me North. Sins of yo’ father make yo’ life ten times harder. Ain’t that the truth, Pops. Then again, I guess it’s better than being called Kupcake. That that don’t kill me can only make me stronger.

It’s my birthday soon. In July. Y’all probably already knew that. And you better be out buying presents for me. I was kind of mad at first about sharing my birthday with Kate and Wills’ baby, but then I thought about all the cool playdates we could have running around the castle and having tea parties with the Queen and her corgis. I hope it’s a boy, and that they call him Charming. I get my naming skills from my dad, can you tell? It’s not even a problem having to fly to another country to hang out, when you are livin’ in the 21st century, doin’ something mean to it. Speaking of flying, I thought my head was going to explode when we went on the plane to see dad in Paris the other day. I tried to tell Mum. I was like, “Mum! We ain’t even s’pose to be here!” but she was too busy having her makeup done and experimenting with a new side-part. I don’t care what none of y’all say, I still love her.

It’s pretty hard being in the womb. Like I ain’t even alive, paparazzi pursuin’ me! And I can’t get away, cos I’m in Mum’s tummy. She can’t walk very fast when her feet are popping out the sides of her Perspex heels, and Grandma keeps trying to get our photo taken. Mum and I have been at the gym so much lately that I’ll have a six-pack when I get out. She even bought me my own pair of Nikes for when we work out together! I had to remind her that I can’t wear shoes in the womb. We both laughed so hard at how stupid she is. Grandma’s still convinced that Mum thought that if she ate the shoes, they’d end up on my feet. It’s understandable for Grandma to jump to that conclusion, though. Mum has been eating everything under the sun so that she earns oodles for her post-me weight loss. I definitely won’t be growing up in that ghetto university. Now, I ain’t saying she a gold digger, but she ain’t messing with no broke n*****.

Now when I’m born, remember to bow in the presence of greatness. If I’m late, you should be honoured by my lateness. Don’t be surprised if they call me Jesus. Yeezus? Keezus?

Love and cuddles,

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