Of thigh friction and camel toe

yesterday i was talking to my workmate…lets call her Lil T…as we were walking to get some lunch. then she goes “Damn, i must be gaining weight, cos my thighs have just started rubbing together when i walk.” Hilarity ensued. so after i picked myself off the floor, i informed her that my thighs are best friends…in constant contact with every step i take. Now you have to understand, Lil T is what some people like to call petite. i just think that she’s slightly smaller than some strains of bacteria. I on the other hand, am a woman of, shall we say, ample proportions. so i got to thinking about this whole body image thing. see, women are soo different. T can tell when she’s gaining weight due to the sudden onset of such horrifying symptoms as thigh friction. me, such things only occur to me when i start getting charged double fare in matatus and being asked when the baby is due. forget thigh friction…on a good day the walk from the office to Nakumatt can result in a bushfire. someone very wise once told me to appreciate the body i have in my twenties, cos when i’m in my thirties, i’ll realise that thats the best my body ever looked! so i’m appreciating the heck out of these curves of mine, because its downhill from here!

anywhoo, today as i was heading out of Nakumatt after lunch, i walked smack into this woman whose pants were so tight that her fertility was at serious risk. as in, one false move, FGM papo hapo. her outer genitalia were so clearly outlined that i had a good idea what she looked like without her clothes on. this disturbing phenomenon, ladies and gentlemen, is known as camel toe. if you don’t get it, google a camel’s feet…that should give you a graphic picture.

now this isn’t the first time i have seen this…there was this one chick at Q’s who could have comfortably gripped the cue stick with her labia. needless to say, my desire for those mshikakis ended there. i was talking to one of my friends about camel toe, and i happened to mention how gross i found that shit. as in seriously, why go to all the trouble of getting dressed if your vagina is happily waving to passers-by? then this dude, lets call him Triple A, shocked me by telling me that men find that quite hot, and didn’t understand why i thought it was so off-putting. let me put it this way. guys, witness those male athletes who run in tighter than tight shorts, with their packages right in your face. hot huh? NOT!!

poll time! lemme know..is camel toe hot??

why is it that….

one of the earliest things my mother told me when i was growing up is that if i was nice to people, studied hard, loved the Lord and basically walked in the light in a manner of speaking, all that good karma would rebound on me. (ok, not in those words, my mum probably thinks Karma is a city in Burma…but i digress)

so, like a good little girl, i lived by these wise maternal words, and got repeatedly shafted in the ass (figuratively, pervs!), by the same people i was trying to be a christian to. so back to the question at hand…

why is it that men have this God complex…thinking that because they were lucky enough to get in your pants, you are now at home clutching your pillow, sighing their name and planning a goddam future? get over yourself nucca. it was nice, but it was just sex! and i just may be regretting having carnal knowledge of your arrogant ass!

why is it that just because you have gotten this reputation of being nice and easy-going, people get the idea that they can walk all over your feelings? this ciru-wont-cause-ciru-wont-mind mentality is getting old. here’s a news flash. i have feelings just the same as you do. a little respect wont hurt!

why is it that people just straight up lie? and about shit they don’t even have to lie about! listen. i’m not your mother. your misplaced guilt has nothing to do with me. read a self-help book or something.

why is it that people get to know you, get under your skin…in a good way…and then bail on you? i mean, you tell me that you’re my pal, that you want to be there for me, show all this concern towards my well-being, then one little mutual mistake happens and you’re out the door? so why go through all that trouble? i don’t get it. they say life is a mystery, but this shit is just ridiculous!!

enough ranting for one day.

I am officially, a blogging whore.

or slut, harlot, trollop, tart, slag….i could go on, but it becomes very disturbing if one knows more than ten ways to talk about those professionals. but i digress. this is my second blog. the first one bored me. see, i’m like a moderately intelligent 5 year old…shit only holds my attention for about a month before i’m off on some other project. heeey, maybe thats why my relationships don’t work! hmmmm. Freudian cartharsis right there.

aaaanywho, there’s this guy that i want for purely mercenary reasons. problem is, he’s seeing someone. so if anyone has a “how to slice in 6 months” manual, hook a sista up.

and another thing…i keep hearing about Karma…some ish about if i slice, it’ll come back to bite me in my (rather ample) behind. so i need an opinion…if i slice, will i be sliced in return?