Eradicating, morphing of our ‘private parts’
Yep, we are in the age of modern fashion.
Age of vulgar dressings. An age where if we don’t keep talking and writing, our babes are going to start jogging naked in the streets!
Or like our forebears used to say, “monkey go go market and him no go come back.”
Meaning, there would be fire on the mountain.
There’s nothing else we can do, except to keep kicking against a system, where the rage in fashion now seems to be, “Show off your boobs, underpants and stinking anus,” to underscore the fact that you’re now truly a fashionable babe or guy.
Honestly, I don’t know and absolutely can’t understand the type of modern fashion, which is staring at us today.
Is it a fashion where exposed boobs count for something, and hidden buttocks and anus are no longer parts of body parts called private?
Lord have mercy!
Our babes now wear rags, clothes that can barely cover their vital statistics.
In a week in a role, I saw sights that disgusted me. Sometimes we can’t help but wonder if some of the girls that parade our society have mirrors.
No sane parents, with their thinking nuts, screwed to the right places, will watch their daughters wear vulgarity to leave the home.
Just because Olabisi or Nkechi dress that way, doesn’t make it right! Take that to the bank!
I strongly belong to the school of thought that says, “If you have it, flaunt it!”
But flaunting or enhancing your best asset does not mean going naked.
Perhaps I should explain that important point…for instance, if you have big boobs, instead of wearing baggy tops to conceal it, your tailor can make a dress that will hug your figure, and accentuates your boobs, without revealing your cleavages to an embarrassing length.
Again, if you have bedroom eyes as a babe, you can enhance and use them as the best-attracting feature, by outlining them nicely with eyeliner.
Let me quickly tell you why I decided to brave this path of discussion.
I was heading to Ikeja. I boarded a bus at Egbeda. A few minutes later, a fair-complexioned babe, boarded and sat beside me. As she sat down, her black dress, which has a yawning V neckline, plunged dangerously down.
You probably wouldn’t believe this, but I saw her nipples!
She was not wearing a bra! Cross my heart and hope to die, I saw it!
She didn’t bat an eyelid in shame or embarrassment. I became embarrassed on her behalf.
She attempted to drag up the neckline of the black piece, but the dress stubbornly seemed to have a mind of its own.
It refused to budge and as soon as she removed her hands, it plunged down again.
It is that sort of dress, which manages to cover the boobs when you’re standing, but exposes your boobs immediately after you sit.
Before the bus left the park, she contrived an idea on how to make the dress cover her nipples, but another aspect of her boobs was there for all passengers to stare at and men to ogle.
Since she knew that her dress would plunge down if she keeps her shoulders down, she decided to keep her handbag strapped to her shoulder, rather than keep it on her lap as was expected.
She relaxed her elbows on the seat backrest; this thrust her boobs forward without showing the nipples.
But it made the seat tight and uncomfortable for other passengers.
When we got to NAHCO Bus Stop, she got down and walked sedately away like a Tolotolo.
As she walked away, she continued her fight with the dress. Nonsense, like she didn’t know better before leaving home.
She was probably going to see her lover or one of her lovers. Maybe one of those businessmen trading at Computer village.
I can just imagine how the visit will go…She will walk into his office…he will quickly dispatch or settle any customer that had been taking his time.
He might even tell one of his boys to mind the ware, while he goes into the inner shop with the babe.
Thank God for such sinful dresses…he’ll just plunge his hands into the neckline, grabs one or two of the globes and suckles like mad.
His boys know better than to come to the inner office at that point.
Hummm…I’m just wondering if she had briefs on that day…probably not…easy entry and withdrawal method for the guy.
Sometimes a quickie is the best form of sex!
The truth of the matter is that most guys, who are insane enough to chase after babes that expose their boobs and buttocks in the name of fashion, are often not too hot in making these babes their wives.
Why? Figure it out yourself!
I was pissed with that babe because she was naturally beautiful, with a flawless complexion.
Even without showing her boobs, men will have still lusted, pursued, and wooed her.
The second incident was a babe, wearing one of those skimpy lace bras. I mean the kind of bra, which covers only the nipples, leaving the rest of the boobs jutting out rudely.
She had on a spaghetti top and the top, though a round neck was also down enough for me to catch an eyeful of boobs.
God! Are we going through the boobs’ mania era?
What really annoyed me was that her bra was dirty!
Imagine a white bra, which had turned brown. Ugg! I couldn’t help wondering how clean her ‘koko below’ will be.
If I were to be a guy, I will think twice before going down on her.
Have you seen some of these babes on motorcycles? The way they flaunt their G-string and anus can give most men cardiac arrest.
As babes, we don’t need to be naked to attract the guy we desire.
We don’t need to expose our boobs or show off our pants for guys to like us.
Personally, I put the blame for such brazen dresses on the doorstep of parents!
This may sound bizarre, but would you believe that some parents now force their children to dress in a particularly provocative way to meet up with so the called Fashion or trendy wear?
Some tell their male children to start wearing dreadlocks and earrings all in the name of Fashion. They jettison and throw looking respectable out of the window.
A few weeks ago, I saw a mature woman, displaying dirty G-string pant. She was wearing a pair of stretch jeans and as soon as she sat down in front of me, on a commercial bus, the jean yawned tiredly.
It went down to the extent that my poor eyes were assaulted by the sight of her anus!
At my age, commercial bus drivers and conductors with a thatch of gray hair, now call me Auntie or mummy; that’s to show how old I am and look.
Yet this woman in question would be much older than me. Even her heavy makeup, nice hairdo, jeans, and body hug polo couldn’t disguise her age.
Truly, she was fighting to age and failing miserably.
It’s a fight in futility. Like trying to sell ice to Eskimos. Ha! Fat chance of that!
What the heck will such a woman tell her daughter if she sees the girl leaving home in a blouse that shows off her breasts and wearing a trouser or a skirt that had stylishly been left to show off her beaded waist and G-string pant?
The tragedy of the situation is that some mothers take time out to go to the market and buy such crazy clothes for their children.
Many moms are now forcing their little girls, children still in nursery and primary to dress above their ages and even wear make-up.
I wept the other day when I saw a five-year-old with fixed lashes, weave-on, and fixed nails.
Some of these women attempt to relieve their lives and dreams through their daughters, leading such girls astray.
These are the sort of women who collect eguje from men who dates their daughters.
And because they collect eguje, they turn blind eyes to the fact that the girls have become prostitutes at home, dating and sleeping with several men at a go.
These are women that take their daughters to doctors for abortions.
If they show any glimpse of anger, it will be to scold the girl that she had not been smart or that she was beginning to get sloppy in her sexual affairs!
A babe can look chic without baring it all and leaving nothing to the imagination. I tell you, if these sorts of exposed boobs, G-strings and craw-craw-infested buttocks continue, writers of the dictionary are going to get really pissed off and delete words and phrases like ‘private parts,’ and ‘sex organs’ from the dictionary. You mark my word!
I know a mother who uses her 15-year-old to chop so to say.
She has bastardised the poor girl. Right now, the girl had dropped out of junior school.
Most weekends the girl goes to the homes of different men to spend the weekend. She has the tempting body of Venus, with firm wicked looking boobs, begging a guy to suckle.
She’s a walking temptation, especially in the kind of clothes she usually wears.
Her mother was said to have taken her for several abortions. As for me, anytime I see her, I worry about HIV and STDs.
Those who had tried to speak with her mother had come back with scorched earlobes and damaged eardrums. There’s nobody in my street who does not know about the girl’s sexual escapades.
Many of the guys in the area had gone through her door and come back to tell others, who also went on to try the doorknob.
The way I heard; no guy had ever failed to slide through her door. It was too greasy, and easy to open and walkthrough. A thoroughfare!
My thing is that parents are not doing enough in monitoring their children these days.
We shouldn’t and mustn’t allow work to steal our children from us.
If we don’t start talking now, they will get to an age where they won’t listen.
True, the rearing of a child lies in the hand of the father and mother, but more on the shoulders of mothers.
Especially where the girl-child is concerned.
The way your child dresses is a reflection of the parents. If somebody calls your daughter a prostitute, it means the person is calling you a bad parent.
Why not start today; you don’t need to be harsh about it. There’s no situation love can’t conquer.
If you correct and chastise her in love, she will know you’re advising and suggesting a change of dressing because you care.
An average child wants to know her parents love her. Most importantly, watch out for the type of friends they keep. Since religion has taken over society, pastors and Muslim clerics should join in advising our youths and some crazy adults on the best way to dress and look respectable.BEWARE All Rights Reserved. This material, and other digital content on this website, may not be reproduced, published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed in whole or part without prior express written permission from Juliana Francis