SIZE DOESN’T COUNT…NEITHER DOES COLOUR…SO LETS GET NAKED \J/

                                   

..like the greek before g-strings were invented...not that they made much of a difference

Here I was crossing the road thinking up my next post when I was unfairly distracted by…how can I put this, do you know when you are crossing the road in a diagonal path watching for cars that might flatten you on the tarmac and leave you looking like a colour confused Michael Jackson of the reptile world chameleon in state of eternal tongue out bleeeegh, all flattened so much you’d look like a twenty first century remake of Picasso. Only this time in spray painting…on the road, (meet you in lizard heaven dear friend.)  Yes, it was one of those, till I saw a couple of meters in front of me the unmistakable sway of buttocks covered by heaven knows what manner of underwear covered by a very thin…white nurses uniform (hmm..). From my geographical positioning in reference to the angle of the sun’s rays and distance from this lady, I could see the silhouette of her bottom, curving to her thighs ending flowing down like a yellow bone river of nice skin out the skirt to that back part of the knee….calves…brown shoes...tar. YES. All I saw was Shape of body. Then I was disturbed by this driver honking at me. It is just then that it hit me (not the car, an idea), that despite the fact that she was wearing those visual impediments to the knowledge on inner beauty we call clothes, all I saw was a naked woman. And no I was not lusting or anything…it’s called, Social Observation Of Human Artificial Fur. That’s when it hit me (again, not the car...the idea).., imagine if I had x ray vision and all I saw were women in their nakedness…give it a second, cool, okay, now,…imagine if we all had x ray vision and saw each other in our nakedness…then…YES..IMAGINE IF EVE HADNT EATEN THAT FRUIT AND WE ALL USED TO WALK AROUND IN OUR NAKEDNESS …and the crowd goes wild...YEEEEAAAAH…and the fat girls go quiet...followed by the small to average lengthed gentlemen...then total silence.

Children today I want you to do an exercise, you might be reading this in an office full of interns, or at home because some friend of yours shared it on Facebook or twitter, you could be walking in town or sitting in public transportation having to bear the noise of whatever type of music is currently being played aloud in there… I want you to look around at the people around you, those walking, sitting, talking, arguing, going to the loo EVERYONE!!! Now…close your eyes…then undress everyone, make them all naked. And open your eyes to see what they are doing...naked

 When I tried this exercise, I was in a crowd in the CBD, elbowing and bumping into all three sexes. So you can only imagine how many boobs rubbed on me, how many people had their pubic hairs exposed whilst they were sitting legs open in food courts, the guys selling airtime in that hand out stance, going all ‘ksss ksss ….airtime yese pano” all of them no clothes, the bus rank touts jumping around yelling out at the top of their lungs the location to which their taxis are going wagging their members all over the place as they enthusiastically leap and pace around here and there. The big women who take up two spaces where normally we could fit in three slim girls in a car, over spilling their bountiful chests onto my shoulder as we all battle to sit comfortably in the damn thing. I know  for some reading this, if everyone around you were nude, you would be staring point blank into a hopefully limp penis because unfortunately you are sitting squashed in front of a kombi conductor, because that’s where the lady next to me was seated before I wrote this...I’d dare her to open her mouth!  

And yes, you too, in that class of second year  marketing year students, you who is bored so much by the lecture that you saw this blog post and are currently reading it, there is a skinny girl two rows in front of you, she might look all clothed now, but inside that really tiny pair of skinny jeans is a band of stretch marks looking like zebra theme knickers, that bra that you think is a bra, isn’t leopard print boob jersey, it’s pure spotted skin.                                                                                                                  And just beside you, right there, where there is that bespectacled dude looking all serious and sooo into the lecture, yep…he’s got a big black one doesn’t he, you and I have to admit, we haven’t quite seen  a birth mark that big on any living man isn’t.

I didn’t say stop, your head of department is about to walk in, we need to keep this exercise going, let’s see what she looks like, you probably heard all the graduate trainees have had a go, I bet you must be wondering what she looks like.  Yeeeees…..yes yes…chest hair... Oh.

Sooner or later if we keep going on with this, it’s all going to look normal, big ones, small ones, perfect skin, light skin, or whatever, sooner or later we are all going to be comfortable with what we look like because everyone is seeing it and we will stop hiding our blemishes and accept ourselves for who we are….or what we are.                                                                                                                   This is especially to the ladies, you always worry about this and that, lose yourself in all those products a bunch of ugly scientists who are forever stuck in that stage of puberty where one has so many pimples popping off, your face may look like a mayonnaise factory with all that goo erupting all over the place, and they don’t even try the remedy that they have so specially formulated for your to keep you younger.

I don’t get it, beautiful chocolate skinned people obsess over getting lighter as if that would make them look any hotter than they already are, they decide to use hair bleaching products on their skin so much they end up looking so out of colour you would think the creator mixed the wrong set of paint, but this won’t be the creators fault, we all know it’s your fault that you look both black and white, only thing being your face is the old school racist when the rest of your blacker body seems to have to carry that monstrosity you call a face around what used to be a perfect skin tonned body. (no pun intended to the non-black folk, I was just trying to get the point across). Lots of African women with curves all of a sudden are taking their big rumpedeness for obesity and are punishing themselves with telly diets that honestly aren’t changing a thing.  Just making them sweat more and eat less, then give up and go HARD AS A MOTHERS COITUS PARTNER on food so much they actually then go overweight.

If we all just thought for one day we were all naked and saw each other for what in reality we want to hide behind, we would be left with no choice but to accept it AND BE PROUD OF IT.

Take men for an example, the average male length isn’t much to talk about. But no man shall ever tell you that his member doesn’t deliver. ‘A man brags about his penis, however small’. He shall tell you that Cedric the Cigarette may be small, but he goes a looooong way. And if you are curious (or loose enough, depending on your sexual liberty) you may actually find out that ‘THAT BLOODY LITTLE ITEM….YOOOOOH’

Come to terms with your naked self, stop trying to change the things that make you YOU. Your incessant whining about your weight sucks the hell out of us, your refusal to turn the lights on and hiding behind the excuse that its more romantic that way (or only getting naughty when ZESA goes) only because you feel like you aren’t as hot as Beyoncé while we get intimate has become a bore.    The way you keep telling your man that you wish you had bigger breasts might just mke him think twice about you because one of the reasons he thinks you are perfect is because or your on the smaller side bust size.

In conclusion, all of you out there go to a mirror…take all of your clothes off, look at yourself, close your eyes and say this….

 ‘Thaaambikuying pooom.. Ithinkthisistrangebutiwillkeepdoingitcozfreshsaysdoit...Abrazoom. ‘

 Count to three and open your eyes, the spell didn’t work did it. But your eyes did, just as the spell won’t change you, neither will that scientific cum you keep placing on your face.  Don’t lower yourself or paint yourself, or look like Nicki Minaj, or not reply my text, Or don’t share this on Facebook or twitter or SHA…or most of all ever think you can get hotter by making yourself uglier. So, turn to the hot girl next to you and say ‘size doesn’t count, neither does colour, let’s get naked.’

PS.  ANY INCOVINIENCES CAUSED ARE SINCERELY REGRETTED….but at least you tried hey.