This article was inspired by Kindness, daughter of Davidson: one very beautiful, smart, confident, fast talker I know. She raps her words and her
words are deep. She's a great mind.
Today in history, this great mind escaped womb... Happy birthday Kindy...
I dedicate this work to me, Chidiọgọ, and Kindness: the characters that featured at the scene that inspired the words that inspired this work.
Now these words inspired an argument whereby clothes challenge humans to a vitality test; a fierce word duel where humans take on clothes with the passion of a lady confronting her man over infidelity. Can you imagine that?
Well, you don't have to cos here goes👇:
"Chidiọgọ skirt nke a amakazị! Afụnubee m ebe ị yi ya. I goo ya ọfụụ?"
"Eziokwu, ọ maka. Negodu ka o si papụta gị ukwu."
Kindness shot me a look.
"It's her shape that is fine. That skirt is fine but it wouldn't be that fine if it was you or me wearing it. It's her shape that is making the skirt fine."
I looked at my sister again. She had stopped posing and was listening to her.
"That's very correct," I said, "I didn't think it that way. Wow! What a philosophy!!"
"Yes. Chidịọgọ, ukwu gị amaka."
And we all laughed and started posing again. Kindness is a great girl.
It was a dormant knowledge and things happen everyday that should inform my mind of that fact.
All the times that my mom bought clothes for us and I had to lose some that I really would have fancied to her because they were bigger and fitted her better. I usually pick first because I'm older. Most times I get to try all the clothes on because between us, I was the one who loved clothes more, who cared more about fitting, and who could (still can) try clothes on for the whole wide world. More than beauty, fitting was my criteria for picking those clothes, and the ones that I didn't think fitted me properly became hers. It didn't matter to me that sometimes she got a greater number of the bought clothes, or that mom probably had me in mind for a particular clothe(s), or that my rejects looked finer, and had better(stronger) fabrics than the ones I picked. Mom would try to convince me:
"Chinee, ị laịkịrị akwa à. Werịa nụ."
"Mummy, ọ bụrọ size m. Ọ dị Chidịọgọ mma, ya chịrị ya."
"Chịrị akwa a nwa a, amaa m ihe na-eme gị. Akwa a dị gị mma. Ọ gbere egbe..."
I'd take the clothes because she said so, but would still drop them for whoever cares to wear to wear; or keep them and hope to grow into them; or dump them until I remember what to do with them.
That trait never left me. It grew as I grew and ended up rubbing off on my sister. Then our rejects became Mmasị (our baby sister)'s clothes, or became stay-at-home clothes, or entered miscellaneous: to be given out, to be worn later, to be adjusted by whom it may concern, to be cut up and used as material for something else, or worst case scenario: to be condemned to the most miserable life of inactivity; despised and rejected forever! Chai, I feel for those clothes.
Clothes picked, ownership established, but we'd still interwear, especially house wears. She's ALWAYS had more flesh, and I've had to stop wearing some clothes because they mastered her body and expanded and I didn't feel comfortable in them anymore. I hate to say this but I think she noticed it and got into the business of expanding our clothes for herself. Smaller, expandable clothes became her favorites and she'd wear them every chance she got, especially when I'd be away in school where I didn't get to wear them... If you ever tell her I said that, I'd deny you😉
Mom would bring her clothes and say: "Chinee yirigodi akwa a." I'd gladly get to work as the trier of the universe. Some would fit, most wouldn't. Mum'd turn to her, "Dịọgọ, yirigodi", or sometimes when she's in the mood, she wouldn't need prodding; she'd try along with me and those clothes would fit like they were made just for her.
There's this particular purple gown that I cherished so much that I'd stare admiringly whenever mum was wearing it. I'd stare and forget myself. I'd stare and go into a trance, then I'd picture myself in it and smile, cos the view was great. Mum looked so breath-taking in that gown that I suddenly couldn't wait to grow into it so we'd do "e tote, a wụkọọ", that's what she calls it when we use her things.
Everybody knew how much I adored that gown, cos whenever she wears it, I'd comment and comment and exhaust words, then I'd hang around her and stare some more... The day Chidiọgọ tried that gown on, I cried out and shouted😭! Mom exclaimed🙀! I was dazed😲! God! Did I get jealous? I need some more flesh O Lord😭! Warris this? And this is just one out of several of mum's cuties that she thus inherited.
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Isn't she lovely😍?
PS: I made the thing around her neck🤗... Adorable non😘? |
When it comes to clothes, whether you're dressing to look good, or shielding yourself from cold and what have you, or even robing for procession, proper fitting is everything. Let Judith (alto;very petite), robe in that which is meant for Mummy Christie (same part;very huge)'s figure: absolutely ridiculous😂.
Proper fitting happens when a clothe finds the proper human figure for which it is made. Then it becomes sexy, lovely, pretty, et cetera. It personifies because a person has given it good life. Proper fitting does not necessarily refer to body hugs. A clothe that is supposed to hang quite loose on your body starts looking really stupid trying to hug. That is why boobs start suffering from low self esteem when you compress them into that tight polo that is not meant to be tight (not your size), rendering the polo displeasing to the eyes. You know that sweater is supposed to shield you from cold, but it's too big on you and cold is using that space si well that you have to wrap your hands in self hug to keep it closer and keep warm. If it's supposed to hug in some parts and hang loosely in some parts, but starts hugging everywhere, then it's either the tailor did a bad job, or you're not the figure for it. Yet if it's supposed to hold your waist tight, but rolls around it instead, you already know something is wrong, cos you keep adjusting it.
Now here's my argument: Clothes are nothing in themselves, proper human figures make clothes something.
In the first place, a clothe can be strong, etc, because the fabric with which it was made is strong, etc, or beautiful, etc, because the pattern, colour, etc of the material appeal to your eyes, or there is a design on the clothe that you really fancy. So basically it's a function of strength, quality, beauty, etc, and not the clothes in themselves, which means that if you see those qualities in, say a bedsheet, cotton, table cover, etc, you'd still admire them depending on what you're looking for.
Apart from that, the only other reason clothes look nice, pretty, cute, beautiful, gorgeous, and what have you is because the moment you spread them out, you can instantly imagine them on a figure. Then you say it's lovely, it's fine, it's so sexy! Yes it's all of that because the figure you put it on is all of that. And most of the time, the figure is you, the person you're getting the clothes for, or a figure you admire.
Clothes that look your size when spread out attract you, except you don't like the strength, the design, or the quality of the clothe's fabric, etc. The only reason a clothe that is so obviously not your size looks good to you is because you are getting it for someone that size, or you admire figures that size. So you are able to enter a shop full of Babies' and get clothes for your 3yr old; and you are really very fat, but you gaze upon curvy petit dummies in utmost admiration, but you picked that red peplum top at 'Bend Down Select' because the color appealed to you and dropped it sooner than you spread it out cos it's really very tiny. What's my point? If you're unremorsefully huge and beautiful like the Chinasa of the Mass Communications department that year, for instance, and wouldn't exchange figures with petite no matter how curvy (if you could and your life depended on it, then you have no business taking a second look at that dress on that curvy, petit dummy except you want to get it for that friend whose figure you think would render it exquisite.
No clothe has ever been able to attain the magnificent height of breath-taking whereby the clothe takes in the breath of the human figure that adorns it and comes alive, without that very much alive human figure. Dear human, in the world of clothes, you are simply indispensable!
It's true that clothes have argued that if humans won't wear them, dummies can gladly take their place. And I laugh.
First of all, dummies can't 'gladly' take our place. They were created and compelled by humans to do that which humans can't possibly get humans to do. Ever. We are constantly in motion. We have no time to stand and stare, and be like that for an hour? Is it stroke? See, no human would even be inhumane enough to put a fellow human through that if they could, hence, dummies. And because you, my dear clothes, came first, you have to take care of your younger ones until you are shipped to another location or you are lucky enough to be found by a good human who seems it fit to have you exist in their precious wardrobe and be adorned by their gracious figure. Be careful there, there's a product/manufacturer analogy lurking.
Look at the names of the things that you compare us with. Dummies? God forbid! Call a human that and you won't like your story. Your dummies are made to stand, sit, and strike one pose at a time. You witness humans do much better than that by themselves. We strike so many different adorable poses in such swift movements that time stands still and we achieve in one minute what your dummies can never ever achieve in in their entire existence, because we abhor idleness, and dummies are very idle, dead mute, stone deaf, black blind, totally paralyzed wanna-be models and you dare to conceive in your mind the possibility of those the place of the actual runway kings and queens. Have you gone mad?
You stand like Standard Bank, sit like citrons and look like Lucozade on dummies but when you're on us, you sway and swagger, you bounce and pounce, you bolt and jolt, you rock and roll, you pace and race, you gyrate and migrate, you dance and lance. Would dummies give you those lines, creases and folds that you adopt when you lap so sexily on the human body? Would you swing this much if it wasn't the Curvy Baker pushing you? Would you reach your maximum potential if it wasn't my sister stretching you, expanding your horizon, and opening your eyes to the possibility of becoming much bigger than you ever imagined without breaking open? Would you hug this much if it wasn't my body holding you in such public display of affection that you'd rather not be with anyone else? What is wrong with you? How can you even possibly think that effigies can give you near the same result as the real deal? We give you breath and you come alive, we take you everywhere and you share in our activities, and now you place us and dummies in the same sentence? I rebuke you!
I see the pegs that you are cuffed with behind those dummies. You can't even be yourself because you are compressed to suit a particular dummy figure that you are not meant for because they have refused to create the size that you are meant for because they can NOT even produce all the sizes you are meant for because we come in zillions of shapes and sizes, and you're telling me that that's comfortable? Well, enjoy your fool's paradise cos I know so many human figures that you could totally be yourselves on, and flaunt what you have, but since you'd rather be miserable, I'll leave you to your peril.
Did I hear you say that humans wouldn't look as adorable if we weren't putting you on? Excuse me? Have you seen our men flaunting their thoracic forests? We'd rather not have clothes over those. We'd rather drool at them, stare at them, and caress the hell outta them. Some of you have been around those smooth, muscular, well rounded twin pillars that join at the waist and bend at the knees. I know that you know that they don't need your coverings, that you can as well keep your long/short-legged crap to yourself and they'd do just fine. The swing, gait, elegance, grace, and allure of these men have nothing to do with you. All shoulders broad and narrow, all twin slabs grassy and smooth, strong and soft; all abs tight and set, flat and protruding; all buttons deep and shallow, bulging; all bushes thick and dense, all danglings uphill and downhill, all biceps muscular and fragile, all backs wide and slim, all ridges parting like red sea, are all terrains well designed and assembled by the grand landscaper. The view is absolutely awesome.
Why do you need to cover those mounds of succulent flesh that adorn the smooth plains of beautiful lands? All those curves in the right places, fleshy folds, dermal patterns, all legs fresh and strong, tall and short, spotted and smooth, we are graceful in them all. Is it the grasses in their different well placed regions? Their effects are like shading in life drawing: great contrast, simply exotic.
You don't know our story, read our history; you were never part of the plan. But we create you and give you life and you dare bite the fingers that feed you?
Our curves are so powerful that we simply place banana leaves on them and they (the banana leaves) start looking gorgeous.
Even animal skin hugged our first parents and testified.
Dry leaves get to our mounds and heave; and when we breathe in and out they sway back and forth in such harmonious rocking.
We literally dip ourselves in the mud and come out great.
Yes we travel to the city of Nudity and leave you in perplexity. We are so captivating in this city that it had to take 'clothes' to get us to stay away, not unaware; and when you fail and we can't stay away, you're sore aware you're thrown away.
Yet you say you shield us from cold. Fine. But we made you, and we still make fire and switch on heaters to keep warm because you've proved to be incompetent. And if they stop working, we'd make something else. We'd combine body heat and fill the universe with so many of us that there'd be so much more than enough heat to go around, and then, we'd douse the excess and combine some more.
We'd move and work our bodies with so much energy that cold would grow cold feet. We'd party so hard that cold would be scared, then it'd come to you and you won't have us to keep you warm, and you can't even party by yourselved if your lives depended on it. By now you should know better than to challenge us. We are gods: we can do and undo.
You know what? Just stop! Stop doing this to yourself. I hate to see you get burnt. Alright? Don't you ever put us and dummies in the same sentence. I repeat: DO NOT! It's a slap on our faces. We forgive you now but next time you won't get so lucky. Please cut that crap about adorability. We are so irresistibly charming; I'm sure that you can testify. And cold, and every other factor you can possibly think of for that matter, though powerful may be, but submit to us still, because we dominate. We can't bring you to our world and have you mess with us. Somebody's gotta tell you, we won't take that shit. Be properly guided.
This argument is not even necessary. Clothes are no match for us. A clothe is nothing in itself; human figures give clothes life. Therefore, a clothe never fulfills its purpose if it doesn't fit properly on the figure that is wearing it. For every well-made clothe, there is a figure; and when it finally finds that figure for which it is meant, it glows: mission accomplished!
So ladies and gentlemen, I'm sure that with these points of mine, I've been able to open your mind to the fact that no matter how beautiful your clothes claim to be, none can ever even get close to having that breath-taking effect that it has when it is beheld on yu: the proper, very much alive human figure.
Proper human figures render clothes beautiful, purposeful, fulfilled, and ultimately, breath-taking!
And we all know this, but like I said, it's a dormant knowledge for most of us, and it had to take Kindness' words, the confidence she placed in those words, and that very reprimanding look to wake it in me, even as I open my eyes and mind to it. We come across this lesson everyday, but I had to actually learn it the hard way: yea, you need to have seen that look, that look was harsh; and when you learn a lesson the hard way, it's hard to unlearn it.
Before I rest my case, I'd like to drop some lines, dedicated to all human figures:
...Don't say it doesn't fit before you try it on
There's too much to lose to be wrong
You just might be the figure
That that clothe was made for
Read this essay thoroughly
Respond effectively
And adjust your compliments accordingly...
Thanks for giving me audience.
