Can You See My Butt Through This Dress?

I have underwear for every occasion and every outfit. Well, I thought I did until I decided to wear a cream chiffon dress this morning. I selected my nude underwear, because every woman knows that if you are going to wear anything close to white you must wear it with underwear that is as close as possible to your skin tone (if you don’t believe me feel free to Google images of women who have worn white with white undies, black or any other colour undies in public).

I, of course, thought I had all my bases covered in the huge selection of underwear in my drawer. I got dressed and took a quick look at how I looked. And behold! I could see my knickers.

Now, when it comes to underwear I have two rules that I do not negotiate on:

1.  Underwear was created for a reason. Wear it. This was cast in stone the day Christina Aguilera went on stage in a cute black number and had a stream of discharge making a track down her leg.

2.  If your underwear causes someone you have never met to distinguish your intimate body parts from the rest of you, you shouldn’t be wearing it.

So there I was, digging through my underwear drawer. I tried on almost all the knickers in my possession from the barely there thongs to the boy shorts; and the see-through lace to and solid cottons. I tried blacks, browns and whites. Nothing worked! Nothing!

So there I stood in front of my mirror, negotiating between going commando and wearing a black thong (keep in mind the picture of the curve skimming cream dress). And I admit I tried these two oh-hell-no options (when you can see your butt-crack through your dress you shouldn’t leave your house-don’t even think about it- and as for the black thong see rule 2).

I could have called it a day, changed outfits. But this is me, the girl who has made sweeping statements on social networking about how every woman older than twenty-five should own a pair of spanks.

And yes, I confess. I do not have spanks. It’s easier to preach owning a pair than actually owning them. There I stood in front of my undies drawer, still wearing the dress that did not have a suitable pair of knickers, searching. And Eureka!

Of course I am pleased with my solution of men’s underwear that is made to be more comfortable and less visible than female underwear (it’s true) but seriously…

I need spanks.

SHIFTING GOAL POSTS: IS THIS WHAT THE STRUGGLE WAS ABOUT?

When I was younger my cousin Mpho and I would play football in our backyard and we would use bricks as goal posts. We would set them a certain width and length apart. After playing for some time and goals being scored the losing party, usually me, would suggest reducing the width of the goal posts or the length of the field. This would go on until it was clear that there was no chance of me winning.

I remember when my family moved to Bedworthpark, a suburb separated by a street from Sharpeville.  It didn’t mean anything to me then because I did not know that 3km from my house was a graveyard where 69 brave men who were killed because they didn’t want to carry dompasses were buried.

Living so close to Sharpeville meant nothing until my aunt, who went into exile in 1961, insisted on going into Sharpeville the first time she visited us. I remember her saying that it was because of Sharpeville that she was able to escape South Africa.

Sharpeville is a tiny township. Under developed even by Vaal township standards. Yet it has a place in South African history that until this week I believed could not be denied. For people like my aunt who were smuggled out of South Africa through the Vaal into Lesotho, Sharpeville is where they got saved.

The PAC declaring that men should abandon their dompasses might have been a nationwide call, but it was in Sharpeville where the tragedy that highlighted the ill that apartheid was happened. It was Sharpeville that brought rise to the arm struggle that made the National Party government ban political parties. It was Sharpeville, not Soweto, where 69 men were shot in cold blood on 21 March 1960 because they stood for what they believed in. It is Sharpeville where families lost their sons that day. 

Has the inability to share the victories of today transcended in claiming a history that is not rightfully ours? Should we punish future generations just because the PAC of today questioned why the ANC has “hijacked” Human Rights’ Day when in fact abandoning dompasses on that day was a PAC initiative?

Do we forget that those lives lost and many lost thereafter, those people who were forced to flee their families and homes into unknown countries where they died alone are why we commemorate of Human Rights’ Day. Not who should own it. Is it not my right a citizen of South Africa to know the unedited truth of my history, whether or not the victor of today was there?

The goal posts of truth in this country have been moved carelessly for over four hundred years, so what if they are being carelessly shifted now? I guess in a country where winning at any cost has always been valued more than the goal post that is truth, we do not have an answer because what is true today may not be true tomorrow. Just like those 69 men who were massacred in Sharpeville may as well have been massacred in Soweto…

After all, international media won’t know the difference.

To Ageing, Short Skirts and High Heels

So I turned twenty-nine this week. I’ve been waiting for all those feelings I’ve been told about. The fear of ageing or whatever it is. Or maybe feeling broody. But nothing. So I figure…

Growing up is one of those things that we don’t notice when it’s happening but when it’s run it’s course and you sit back and think, “what was I thinking at twenty”.

I’m glad my early twenties are gone. I partied. I wore clothes that were too short or too tight, or both. I’ve woken up in homes of people I met the night before at some party or a club or somewhere. Left home on Friday came back Monday. Those were the days.

My late twenties brought on a new me with a streak of the old one. I became more discriminating of who I spend my time, where I hang out and how I spent my time. But my twenties have left me with priceless memories. Not all good, some really painful, but memories I can own.

I’ve had love, laughter, joy. What more can a girl ask for?

I do have regrets. Mostly around doing stuff I should have done and didn’t do. People I let in my life who hurt me, I forgave them, and they hurt me again in the exact same way. I’ll regret letting them in but I’m also thankful to them for the valuable life lessons. I now know that no everyone who poses as your friend is.

But you learn as you live. What has not killed me has only made me stronger, and cheekier. I will always meet the devil on his turf in my heels and my hair did. I will not go down without a fight. And if it’s my last breath you are after you are going to wait for a long time, because I am here to stay. I have staked my ground and sharpened my claws. If I do go down, I’ll be looking good while I sink and even better when I hit the bottom of that pit.

And well sometimes a little pain makes the journey worthwhile and you get to enjoy the great moments and the wonderful crazies more.

To people who have made my journey to this point worthwhile. You have been the flowers on the side of this rocky, gravel road. I look ahead to the road of my last year of being twenty-something excited to see what kind of woman my experiences in my thirties will make me.

Life has been good and I thank God for filling my life with so many blessings, even though he could have warned me of the baddies beforehand. But I’m grateful. So I raise my glass to ageing, short skirts and high heels. Goodness, being young has been exhausting!

Another post on life...

I woke up today feeling imprisoned. I feel trapped in my life. I feel like I’m a puzzle and all the pieces don’t fit.

After staring at my ceiling for more than an hour trying to psych myself up it hit me that I was wasting time. Okay, duh! But seriously, I waste my life in the most amazing ways without even knowing that I’m wasting away.

Young people die everyday. Young people with a future and promise and yet, all that they could have been gets extinguished in a single moment.

Death is a leveller of all things. When you die you might have a fancy funeral with great singing and gorgeous flowers . When you die, and you will die,  you’ll be buried or burnt and those you leave behind might remember you for all their days, they might talk about you now and then but ultimately, they will move on.

So this morning, I lay in my bed after realising that I was wasting time, and thought that all I have is this moment. Right now. Today. I owe it to myself to live like there’s no tomorrow.

And well, I might not have a tomorrow. So I might as well make that phone call that is weighing on me, swallow my pride and apologise to that friend I alienated, or maybe just forgive someone. I have nothing to lose because I’m dying anyway.

How I wish I could pack that backpack and fly to the middle of nowhere (I love my comforts too much to do this but it does sound good). I have a right now, I have people who love me and who I love and my moments with them are precious. I should appreciate them now, take my time talking to them on the phone because tomorrow those moments might not be there.

I’m trying to look at today with new eyes. I’m not going to live forever, but I can live right now and every now from here as if it’s the last moment I’ve been given.

Love. Give. Laugh. Forgive. My now isn’t great, but it’ll get better. I should be grateful for what I have. Savour today and look forward like I own the universe, because well…

When I’m dead none of this will matter anyway.  

My Life's Cliche's

Life is what happens when you're caught up in your to-do list.  This is true of my 2012 so far. I've been so worried about all my ambitions that I didn't see or feel the earth shake beneath me. You know that moment when it seems nothing could go wrong only for everything to go wrong?

I still try to live my life as if nothing has changed. I used to be a chronic planner then I stopped and I started living like the next day was going to take care of itself. When I finally knocked myself out of my denial, my problems were still all there waiting for me to lose my mind.

Life is not all roses. But sometimes the stink has to hit you before you truly appreciate the roses. Trust me, you might think your life is hard and it’s all so unfair but someone, somewhere always has it a lot worse than you do. And the situation you are in now might seem like the pits until you do fall into a pit.

And sometimes, you might be feeling like you've got it going on, or you might be feeling like you've gotten a raw deal. I'm just saying that no matter how high you fly, plan to fly higher or if you are struggling to take off, don't stop trying.

I’ve spent months moving between anger, frustration, indifference, anger. Anger is often a waste of time, but can motivate you to get up and get out. And that's what I plan to do after I finish this chocolate and turn off CNN. I will get up, and get out...but for now Lindt is making me feel better.

LOVE LIKE ME

hate blogging about relationships, I’m not an expert. There’s something I need to get off my chest. Stuff I’ve realised over a period of time. About me. I remember taking one of those personality tests when I was younger and the psychometric person said to me that I like finding solutions.

I don’t know how to fix anything. Not a meal. A piece of clothing, a chair…

Yet I’m a chronic fixer. At work when there is a mess somewhere and I can try to figure out how to figure it out I’m on it. Of course this rolls out into other parts of my life. I question everything and I try to make sense of everything, and I also tend to forget very little. A gift. A curse. Me. My brain is constantly racing, is it a wonder that sleep hates me? And I hate that sleep hates me!

But that’s not why I’m blogging. In the last few years I’ve lost a lot of friends and family. Mostly because there are some things I didn’t understand because I’m not like that. I was projecting my personality, me, onto everyone else.

So I want to save the world, and everyone should want to do that too. When something bad happens to me, I want to be alone and I don’t get why the world would want to comfort me. I’m very bad at comforting people because I don’t want to be comforted!

It kind of hit me earlier this year after I read Toni Morrison’s the Bluest Eye. But it still was one of those things that I got on the surface but didn’t really internalise.

I am, i would like to think, confrontational. I’m not the kind of person who let’s things go without thoroughly threshing them out and I have people in my life who dance around issues and pretend that things didn’t happen.

I would rather hurt a friend with the truth, than lie to protect them. And when a friend, or a person who I thought was my friend, lied to me it really cut me deep.

I know a lot of girls feel betrayed by their girlfriends when this happens. But do we ever ask ourselves what kind of person that friend/aunt/brother/sister/mother/boyfriend is?

A person (a Toni Morrison moment) will love like their character. A person who is weak and has no backbone is not going to stick around when things get tough. A person who is not honest with themselves, will not be honest with you. People love like they are.

So, I stepped back from me. For a minute and I looked at the people in my life. Not out of anger or a sense of betrayal or whatever. But I looked at them, the way they had shown themselves to me over the years and I realised, I expected too much or maybe too little. I expected people who were coming from a totally different place from me, to be like me.

I wanted something that I would have given in that situation. I thought myself better, stronger and more honest. And maybe my loud in your face and let’s get this over with part of me isn’t for everybody. Some people shy from confrontation, and it’s cool. It doesn’t mean they are any weaker, they just as not adept at “hurting you now to save you later” and I think I’m just done with trying to “fix” them to be people that I can accept in my life. Because really, the truth of my selfishness is that I want everything in my world to fit into who I believe myself to be and I don’t think I want to change that.  Not yet anyway…

Beer and Champagne

He held the champagne flute in his hand.  What he’d give for a cold Castle and the Bulls were taking the Crusaders on at Lofters. And here he was, trying to look happy. Women needed to learn that organizing parties when big games were taking place just wasn’t on.

‘But that’s when we met!’ Was her excuse.  She was chatting to her friends and he was stuck clutching a tiny glass.  He looked around.  Andrew was hitting on anything with a skirt, he was setting up a score. Peter sighed.  His frolicking days were over.  Elaine moved up to him.  She was hot.  And she was smiling that smile of hers.

‘How’s the champagne?’ She asked.

Peter rolled his eyes, ‘you could have bought a case of Castle, it wouldn’t have killed you!’

Elaine laughed, ‘you know your ragtag friends would have gone through it by now.’

‘I would have hidden my six,’ Peter moaned.

Elaine was laughing at him. She slapped his arm, ‘Dad wants to toast. Are you ready?’

Peter looked around for Andrew, ‘where is he?’

‘I asked you to ask someone else. I knew he’d do this!’

‘He is my best friend,’ Peter said, ‘you know that!’

‘Where is this best friend of yours?’ She was getting hysterical.

Peter didn’t want to think what Drew would be doing with the girl he’d disappeared with. She was most probably a nice unsuspecting female.

He shrugged.

‘Shit! This is our engagement party, Peter! He is the last person to wish us well!’

People felt the blood roaring to his head, ‘why wouldn’t he wish me well, Elaine?’

She looked away from him, ‘just bloody find him!’

Where would Drew take a girl who he was trying to sleep with, with no attachments? Peter watched Elaine stomp off and took out his cellphone and dialed his friend.  This was much easier than trying to ferret out his friend out of secret corners.   Maybe he knew the score to the game.  Drew had called him crazy for wanting to get married, obviously he would not be walking down the aisle anytime soon.

‘Dude, Elaine is getting ready to castrate me. Where are you?’

‘I’ll be there in five minutes,’

‘What’s the score?’

‘Bulls up, twenty-two seven,’ Drew said, ‘and I’m past first base.’

Peter laughed and hung up. He needed to report back to Elaine.

‘Where is he?’

‘He’ll be here in five minutes,’

‘Dad is getting impatient! Really, Peter, he is a guest-’

‘He is my friend!’

She turned her back to him.

‘He’ll be here in five minutes, the game is almost over.’

She swung back round to face him.

‘I’m waiting around for some stupid rugby game to end! How inconsiderate you are. How dare you treat our guests like this?’

Peter sighed.

‘This is our engagement party, Peter! And he is tarnishing it!’

Peter rolled his eyes, ‘calm down.’

She put her hand up to her brow, ‘calm down? Calm down? I asked you not to ask him to make the toast. I knew he’d do this!’

‘You didn’t want him to make the toast because everyone here knows that you slept with him!’ Peter snapped. ‘And yet I’m the idiot who’s marrying you!’

He didn’t see her hand come up, but he felt the sting on his cheek and heard the crack.  The music played on but the room fell silent. He looked at her and saw the tears in her eyes.

‘I see that all is ready for my toast!’ Drew strolled him with a blonde on his arm, oblivious to the tension. He grabbed a flute, ‘Mr DJ turn the music down. To my best friend, may you have a happy marriage. Better you than me!’

Elaine gasped and ran out of the room.

‘Tears of joy, I’m sure,’ Drew laughed.

Peter looked uncomfortable. He wanted to go after her. But yet he didn’t. He looked at Drew and shook his head.

‘Shit!’ Drew said.

Indeed, Peter thought.  He looked at Elaine’s parents. He needed to go after her, but he knew she’d take hours to calm down.

She hadn’t meant to slap him. All she’d wanted was to make the bloody party a success but Peter had an obscene obsession with Andrew. She’d prayed Andrew would be overseas this weekend, but he’d rearranged his diary and taken leave just to be there and she couldn’t avoid it.  She couldn’t avoid him.  Why her?

The door opened behind. She looked over her shoulder. Peter. Peter would come, he always did. Why would she think Andrew would apologize, Andrew never ran after anyone. Everyone worshipped the ground he walked on…including Peter.

‘Hey,’ he said.

She looked away from him. It hurt too much.

Peter placed his hands on her shoulders, she shrugged him off.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’

She moved away from him. She wouldn’t be shamed into an apology. Damn him!

‘Elaine,’ he said, in the calm Peter way. The Peter way that could crack ice or break a wall. So calm, so steady. ‘Drew has been my friend since primary school. He is a brother to me, I can’t cut him out of my life.’

‘Then stop throwing the fact that I had a relationship with him in my face!’ Elaine said.

‘I’m sorry,’ Peter said, spreading his arms. ‘I just don’t know why you are so eager to write him off.’

She could feel the tears coming. This was a shit party!

Peter placed his hands on her shoulder and turned her around and buried her face into his chest. She couldn’t stay mad at him and he knew it.

‘Let’s go home, hmm?’ He said over her head.

‘The party,’ she mumbled into his chest. ‘My parents won’t be-‘

‘I’ll phone them,’ He said. ‘They’ll take care of things with my mom.’

She nodded. She didn’t want to stay. She just wanted to lie next to her fiancé and pretend that she hadn’t slapped him in public. 

‘Stay here, I’ll get your things.’

He hated seeing Peter being duped by women, but Elaine had taken the prize!  Stupid bitch! God, Peter was above her and her psychotic tantrums. She had slapped him in public, now that had to be the cherry on top! But no, Peter had run like a dick-less puppy to her.

When she’d run off to Peter after he’d dumped her, he was sure Peter would see through her but had his friend been like most blokes and taken what was freely given and rejected the rest? Hell no! He had proposed. Proposed to that psycho bitch! Now he’d be forced to suffer her company for heaven knew how long their marriage would last. If he was lucky this engagement wouldn’t make it that far. Elaine knew how to get back a fellow. Jump into bed with his best friend and be a victim until said friend proposes!

Peter’s mom was frantic.  The shrew was going to be a permanent part of her family and she might give birth to other shrew children. Damn, if he was Peter he would insist on paternity tests. A woman who could sleep with your best friend wasn’t to be trusted…ever!

This party was a blow-out. Elaine didn’t have hot friends, too insecure to be outdone.  And the mostly average ones she had, well, not to his tastes. He needed to leave, he just needed word that the couple were ending their engagement and he could go out and celebrate.

Elaine’s father was tapping a spoon against his champagne flute. Champagne! Peter hated the stuff and he was most probably paying for all the Cliqot going around like JC Le Roux. His friend needed to grow some balls!

‘The couple have taken their leave,’ Elaine’s father was saying, ‘Elaine isn’t feeling well.’

More like Peter was willing to grovel, but not in public. Drew bee-lined for Peter’s mom and kissed her good-bye. A good solid beer, in honour of what was once his friend’s manhood, was in order.  He’d drink something local for a change, just for the Peter he once knew.

One For The Road

She looked up at the clear blue sky. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. He was standing next to her. It always struck her how people changed with time yet somehow didn’t change at all. The golden sand was soft and warm under bare feet and she smiled.

‘What are you smiling about?’ He asked her, taking her hand in his.

‘I was remembering the little holiday we had just after varsity. We packed our bags into your car and dove to Durban.’

He smiled down at her, ‘those were the days. Before the bills and the job.’

Yeah.’

They walked a little while longer. It was a still day, the ocean was clam and the only sound to be heard was of a few seagulls in the distance. He was telling her about his life on the whole. The five years she’d missed out on, tactfully leaving out ex-girlfriends.

‘You’ve grown up a lot,’ he said into the stillness.

She stopped walking and looked up at him, ‘what does that mean?’

‘I mean,’ he responded squeezing her hand, ‘you were always so…what’s the word?’

She looked at him waiting, her heart was starting to pound and her body temperature was rising.

‘Insecure,’ he concluded. ‘Changing dresses ten times before stepping out of the house. Asking a litany of questions…’

‘How is asking questions indicative of insecurity?’

‘Well, you either know something or you don’t,’ he told her, ‘and well no one should know everything.’

‘So you believe ignorance is bliss?’ She asked, getting angry.

‘The thing is we already the know the answer to what we ask,’

‘So if I had asked if you had a girlfriend or a wife, I would know the answer even if I haven’t seen you in five years.’

‘Geez, woman, chill!’

‘Chill?’ she asked, ‘what’s this all about?’

He released her hand, ‘it could have been about anything.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘Listen,’ he said coolly to her, ‘I have to get back.’

Endings And Beginnings

The old brown brick building not unlike many buildings built for functionality and not be aesthetically pleasing. It was a  hated building, more so on that hot and dry day.

The street was crowded, and pedestrians pushed about and snapped at those blocking their path, everyone was in too much a hurry to stop.

The street, as crowded as it was, was still a lonely place to be. There were better, happier places to be for people who still lived.  

The windows of the building needed a good cleaning. The sunlight dulled them. The litter on the steps to the entrance of the building needed to be cleared, yet, no one seemed concerned. People walked in and out of the building. Some happy. Some depressed. Some just looked like they had done what they needed to do. This walls in this building had seen it all and heard it all. It was a place which marked beginnings, middles and ends.

***

Paul looked the old brown building. His palms were sweaty from the heat of a beautiful summer’s day.  To Paul the old brown bricks signified something beautiful at each milestone of his life. When he’d come of age. When he’d gotten his licence to travel the world. And now it signified when he would finally belong to a solid partnership. The sun multiplied a hundred times on the building’s windows. People stood on the steps and he noticed each smile on each face. He would never be alone again. And in that crowded street he could hear the laughter of children, the excited chatter of friends.

Paul ignored the vulgar pedestrians who were rushing to do other things. For Paul, there could be nothing better than marking the beginning of a new chapter. A dream come true. There was no where else he wanted to be.  

He laughed, he had never felt better as he began his ascent to the building to mark another great moment in his life.

For The Love Of E-reading

I never thought I would live to see the day the day that I would be able to buy and read five hundred page books that weigh no more than my finger. Nor did I ever imagine that I would be able to carry twenty novels in my handbag.

I was one of those sceptics who swore with every breath in body that I could never read from a screen and bear turning pages with a press of a button and in the case of my iPod touch, a tap on the screen.

This is not a piece is not about flossing about my many gadgets, but it is more about how my view has changed on e-books.

Every avid reader who has a Kindle will tell you that one) you have never bought so many books in your life. Of course this is after your initial reservations but after the first book it’s almost as if you cannot help but buy more and more books even at four in the morning.

Two) You’ve never bought books at such a low price. Like for real! The most I’ve paid for a book delivered via Kobo is R72! And this was for a newly released book.

And of course we all think these gadgets cost way too much! Take into account that for brand new books you could be saving R130 per book, and for the more commercial books you are definitely saving at least R50.  After ten commercial books, you’ve saved R500 and all those classics like War and Peace and Ulysses that you’ve been meaning to read but have not had the will to buy? They are most probably free!

You can make notes on your Kindle, and your Kobo app on the iPad or the iPod. So if you are into the self-help genre or cannot read without taking notes, then voila!

Of course with certain gadgets you use them for other things as well. I use my iPod for listening to audio books at the gym (always those books that seem to be hard to get through when reading on text) and of course my music, which I cannot live without! Many people use their gadgets for email and to work on documents and such, like your iPads and your Galaxy Tabs.

But back to the Kindle. The New York times at a click of a button, delivered to you fresh off the press. What? Who wouldn’t fall in love? And you think you’ll miss the smell of paper? Hmmm…

This is not to say that I no longer buy printed books. I still do, but the price difference throws me off. Another reason I am still buying paper books is that I am forced to by book publishers who don’t publish all their books on e-format. If you are a fan on series books, this does become a pain when the first four books are in e-format and the fifth book is not available on Kindle!

I would advise every reader to get a gadget. Whether you read a hundred books a year or just one. Whether you want to get subscriptions to international newspapers or magazines or none at all. It’s user friendly and you will never have to worry about shelf space or fighting with your spouse over old papers again!

Note: I know someone who is selling their well kept and almost new Kindle 2^nd Generation for R 1 250 (including delivery in South Africa) less than half the price on Amazon. If you are interested or hoping to negotiate, can’t promise, email me: Simyn13@gmail.com

Happy reading!