Thursday, October 21, 2010

Underwear or Not?

Well before the millennium and before a certain tabloid came onto the market, the pictures that appeared in the newspapers did tend to be clean pictures. They were not rude or smutty nor did they expose. They were so clean that they would have probably put ethics minister Nsamba Butoro out of a job for he would have had nothing to complain about.


Then along comes New Years Eve 2009. In 2009, one place that was kicking was DV8 where, the old Cineplex used to be on William Street. In fact as part of the end of year celebrations, they decided to hold a street bash along with some other activities including a fashion show. The night I thought went very well. We had a blast way into the wee hours of the morning. The reviews in the papers the following day were positive that the oganisers felt happy.


But it was three days later when things started to go horribly wrong. A Tsunami was brewing and was going to rip through town. Some previously unheard of model called Jamila, became the talk of the nation. Had she done something spectacular? Of course she had! During the DV8 fashion show, the dared to model on stage without underwear and some eagle eyed photographer had taken the picture. To make things even worse, it prominently appeared in the papers.


People went on the rampage. The police swung into action so fast you would have thought that it was Osama Bin Laden that was being arrested. The police went to her home, arrested her and charged her with ‘being indecently dressed and doing it while being a minor’. Child services were called in, the church and every person who felt they had something to say on the subject came forward to voice their opinions. I too became a celeb of sorts for it was on my society page that the picture appeared.


The funny thing about a Tsunami is that it dissipates almost as soon as it appears. Three weeks later and the name Jamila, was a name of the past. In fact nobody could remember why she was in the papers and my celeb status also dwindled into oblivion. Thanks Jamila. Nevertheless life went on.


Today, it is no big deal if some bimbo is pictured in the papers showing off her underwear or her boobs popping out and going to the extreme by not wearing any underwear at all. They figure that if people like Paris Hilton, Jessica Alba and Lindsey Lohan can do it and get away with it, then why not them?


However there is ‘but’ because it is not as simple as it looks. We men will look up women legs if the chance presents its self. But the look has to be that of a sly. And so it was at Zanzi’s in Naalya that I found myself having lunch with Spidey. As we were just about to start on our ribs, in walks Pregnant Woman. When Pregnant Woman takes her seat, she is so oblivious to the mechanical malfunction of her dress under the table. Her dress had ridden way up her thighs and because she was sitting with her legs very wide open, she was displaying all her wares for us to see. Suddenly the pork ribs did not taste as good as they ought to and to make things even worse, it was impossible to change our seats for it would have meant sitting in the sun. So we hardened with the view that was before us and fled as soon as we were done.


If it was any consolation, at least Pregnant Woman was wearing underwear because though she had her legs wide open, you could only make out a small portion of her underwear because her ample thighs had done a good job of providing some cover.


It has to be said that it is one thing looking at woman who is sitting badly and realizing you can see her underwear. But it is another site to look at a woman who is also sitting badly when you realize that she has nothing on!


And so it was at the Kiggunda at Namboole Stadium that I found myself a couple of weeks ago. The women who go to Kiggunda are a different breed. They tend to be the shop attendant type, the kind you would find plying her trade somewhere along Luwum Street and further down.


Going to Kiggunda for them is as big a deal as I would find going on a boat cruise to Bulago Island, while drinking pink champagne and feasting on fresh lobster. And the clothes that they wear are hardly appropriate for Kiggunda. Extremely short micro skirts.


With the kiggunda in full session, the music blaring and the pickpockets doing brisk business, Namboole was on fire. Throw in the beers and the muchomo and all was set. But for some people especially the ladies in the micro skirts, there were bound to be a problem or two. They had to go to the ladies but the thought of going to the ladies and coming back to find that they had missed their favorite artiste, they were going to stay put.


While they were showing a bit more than they should be showing, I was always under the impression that they were wearing underwear that was flesh coloured. I was even about to commend them, for their underwear looked real and so flesh like.


The something I did not expect to happen, happened. One of the girls dropped to her knees and while still gyrating to whatever Irene Namubiru was singing about, slightly opened her legs and right there inside the 18 yard box where just weeks earlier the Uganda Cranes goal keeper had successfully defended his goal against the Angolan’s, she peed! But when she peed, I did not see her adjust her flesh coloured knickers. When she was done and I made it my mission to have a good look, and eek I was horrified! Flesh Coloured knickers? Yeah right! It was the REAL THING, the real raw flesh that was devoid of any protective garment! All along I thought I had been looking at flesh coloured knickers. Call me a coward, but it was all too much for me that I melted into the dark and to look for some water to cleanse my eyes.

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