My name is miniskirt/dress. I was born in ancient Greek. Fighters and slaves were my first owners. My popularity peaked in the ‘swinging London’ of the 1960. Before then, I was only seen in sport clothing, such as the one worn by female tennis players, figure skaters and cheer leaders. There was this time Venus Williams wore a transparent me, that was one of my proudest moments. My task of exposing parts was highly amplified.



Every woman…and some weird men, out there in this entire planet, have me, my sister or my cousin. I even suspect aliens might be planning to evade the earth for the sole purpose of owning me. Whatever that makes me thrive, I’m down with it. I can be an office wear, casual wear or a night dress. I have been accused of all things evil; from being an aid to promiscuity, rape and sexual harassment. Many are the people who forget the good things I have done. I have entertained both men and women; I have boosted self-esteem, sexuality of many women out there. I have complemented their looks and enabled them get recognition in men circles. Some women have gotten their dream jobs because of me. Others have encountered life changing lifestyles just because they made me their friend. Others pay their rents, maintain their lifestyles and are financially stable just because they own me

Another day I heard a story that brought tears to my eyes. My cousin was harassed, torn and trampled on. Her owner was harassed, humiliated and abused. All this happened just because she was too short/small. They didn’t even give her time to grow longer or still they could have listened to her. You see, she was created like that-small and short. That behavior was uncouth, a display of primitive energy and utterly insane. I condemn that from deep within my inner being. If I had my way I would haunt those people who did that to my cousin. I would curse their wives to always wear me, my sister or my cousin in all the days of their lives


I feel bad when I’m made to act ultravires my objective. My objective, just for clarity is to expose the lower parts of the body. I hate stockings with a passion. They cover the parts I’m supposed to expose. If my owner opted not to expose those parts, she would have worn a trouser or a long skirt. She wore me for what I can do. So, stockings! Stop this nonsense and know your place; covering skinny legs of those who own you.

Some of the owners disgust me, they wear me and starts pulling me down once they sit down. Or when they are bending to pick something. They should know it’s hurting and damaging to my skin. They should also let me do my job. To expose more and more the parts I’m supposed to expose. Once you wear me, you should let me show what you got. Don’t tie my hands behind my back and yet you want me to perform.
I love men though it’s kind of weird to own me. They are the main reason I’m thriving. They encourage my dominance. They like what I expose. Streets would be boring without me.
My kind has met aggressions in this life. I have been banned. Some markets are very hard to penetrate. Middle East is one of those. Two women tried to give me a chance. One was stoned to death the other one was banished from her motherland. They were accused of being infidels, non-believers, prostitutes and people of loose morals.
If you love me, stand up and fight for me. Don’t just stand and stare when I’m being whipped out of the country. Do something