Girl you are hot, but that dress…
There is this sassy drop- dead-gorgeous girl in my neighborhood. Her smile, her eyes, that ‘limited edition laughter’… oh boy! Kate is the bomb.
Forget Kim Kardashian’s silicon curves, Kate is the real deal. If there is any man who can resist her, then that has to be a male mannequin.
Warning: I am conveniently going to borrow that tired cliché: all that glitters is not gold. Before you crucify me for using that weary phrase, remember that you used it a hundred and one times when writing your compositions!
So shall we all move on please? Thank you. Where was I? Yes, Kate has got it all. Team Mafisi want to have her for lunch, pun strongly intended and the girls want to court her friendship.
Back to our cliché, Kate is a liberal woman. She subscribes to the school of thought that dictates whatever a woman elects to wear is her choice (team #MyDressMyChoice).
Even though she does not need to resort to extreme measures to catch ones eye, she dons exceedingly revealing clothing. From plunging necklines to abbreviated hemlines, Kate wears it all.
Make a mistake of mentioning her fashion sense, and you will get a mouthful of barbs hurled at you. After all, what right do you have to tell her what to wear?
Before you call me a chauvinistic prude who judges women based on their appearance, you should know I knew Kate before the raunchy wardrobe makeover. She was my friend, genuinely.
And truth be told, I used to think she was the kind of girl I’d like to introduce to my mother. You know the type: humble, smart, decent, responsible, and respectful.
That was all before these bubbly-gum reality TV shows brainwashed her. From caring about common courtesy and modesty, she now is overly concerned with Brazilian weaves and fake eyelashes. Before, her clothes had a nice feminine fit. Now, they look like they’ve been inspired by Koinange Street “models”.
And there lies the problem. How do young men, like myself, take nice girls like Kate home when they look like that? What, pray tell, will my pious hum-singing mother think of a woman who puts all her ‘goodies’ on display?
I’ll tell you this for free: the book shall be judged by its cover. My mother, and others of her generation, will not care for the A that Kate got in KCSE Exams. Her First class honours in the University of Nairobi will do her no favours when her fundamentos are on display on my mother’s couch. And her character, however virtuous, will not be considered.
So for these compelling reasons, I will leave beautiful Kate with her dress. It is her choice. But in choosing that revealing dress, she has chosen not to be the girl for me.
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