Wall to wall

I woke up on Friday morning and I immediately knew that something was wrong. For one my hair was soaking wet in an afro and I was shivering. It turns out the previous night it had rained heavily and I left the window open so you now what happened. When it rains, it pours...sigh(no pun intended!) But that aside I had an awesome day, I visited Eastleigh, Mathare, Gikomba and some other centers whose names I can’t remember thanks to a good friend of mine who wanted to show me around. We ate some good pilau which can make you slap your mama (more like double b*tch slap your mama) at the “hotel De Chelsea” opposite that mosque in Eastleigh which put Mr. Balala on the spot some time back! There is also some mama who sells deep fried viazi with some sweet curry near the stage and it tastes so divine. And no I wasn’t paid to advertise.

So we finished off with Gikomba and came home with mud all the way to our knees. So my good friend tells me to go to her house and shower. Now all that was awesome until it came to the time when she gave me the knickers (or should I say what’s left of it). It seems she didn’t get the memo that I do not wear thongs unless they are going to my feet (read thong sandals). Now according to her she calls my knickers “wall to wall”.smh

Now people I think am about to give in to peer pressure. I done sold my soul to the devil. I have no spine...sob...sob. I decided to actually try it on. I think you need to sit down for this! So I put the stringy thingy on and I walked to her full length mirror and shock on my duodenum I looked like a Sumo wrestler. I shite you not! 

And don’t get be started on the uncomfortable feeling that you are walking with a permanent wedgie (how do chics do it?). Anyway I went home (using the dark shortcuts of course) and brave the draft blowing up my nether regions...sigh!