EJanni:
I dress to be comfortable and to enhance my confidence where ever I go. Infact I dress to stand out in the public not really to empress any guy or gurl.

Comfortable? Make up struggles to hold out nature. Hair plants itch in the humid tropics. The rain wrecks havoc on gels, paints and powders, pads trap heat and the stilettos'. Have you seen an 'office' lady's toes, bridge and ankles, yes...yuck. My dear that lie simply won't fly.

The truth is found in the Book of Genesis. One of the curses simply say of the woman. 'And thou shall endear yourself unto the man...and he will rule over you.'. This simply means the woman is hard wired from birth to please the man. Simple. Women dress to impress men. All men...simultaneously.

Girls dress to satisfy themselves, show off to other girls and impress men. Married women also did the same but also impress their husband.

MISSCONGENIALITY:
which product r u talking about? Educate me please.

their manchester and arsenal.

d major reason y i dress well is to boost my confidence.not bin well dressed is d fastest route to insecurity.soooo aint tryin to impress odas.jux myself.

they dress because their eyes have opened.they dress to impress whom ever cares to notice/make their dressing his/her biz

Is it a crime to dress again

Reference:


Comfortable? Make up struggles to hold out nature. Hair plants itch in the humid tropics. The rain wrecks havoc on gels, paints and powders, pads trap heat and the stilettos'. Have you seen an 'office' lady's toes, bridge and ankles, yes...yuck. My dear that lie simply won't fly.

The truth is found in the Book of Genesis. One of the curses simply say of the woman. 'And thou shall endear yourself unto the man...and he will rule over you.'. This simply means the woman is hard wired from birth to please the man. Simple. Women dress to impress men. All men...simultaneously.

you are generalizing and thats not good. Well, for me I dress to impress myself and not anybody. Believe it or you can rock your ride. Ok? and please take bible out of this.

coldsummer:
[size=18pt]Honestly why did that anie idibia's thread make NL FP[/size]

guy you still dey think am?

Well for me is nt 2 impress a dude or a gal looking gud is jst my tin

ogaprime:


You look good...Oya chop guguru

lol, guguru don hang for neck o…anything to push it down?

richommie:
paraparapara...fell good..yeahh!

*dancing MJ with richommie* that's how we roll mehn!

Caught by Tolu Daniel
I have heard about the stars that encircle around a dazed man’s face after receiving a knock on the head or a brutal blow to the face, but I never thought any of it was real. My unbelief could have stemmed from the fact that I saw so many cartoons while I was growing up. Those yellow suspended birds that hover around the cartoon characters always seemed mythical to me; I never imagined that they could ever become so reachable, almost touchable. But there I was, standing in front of the igbo trader with the enormous sausages that were supposed to be his hands, as he dazed me with the biggest slap that my face had ever encountered. It felt as though I had run into a moving train, for a split second, I was in a universe that was neither here nor there, it was though all was on a merry go round. The birds danced, they even sang, so was the glory of Chibuzor’s slap on my face.

I would have cried a fountain, I would have shed buckets of tears there and then, because the sight of Chibuzor’s beefy hands should have been enough to make any child cry, but I was not a child or was I? A scrawny looking and witty nine years old with what many described as a bad habit would describe me. I didn’t feel any pain after the slap; however my head suddenly felt lighter, the world appeared as a shade of many colors with my brain suspended for a little while in a sepia configuration; the little birdies were still dancing around my head. I knew what I did was termed as wrong by the society but I had issues with societal stereotypes and what everybody defined as wrong or right. I couldn’t help myself, I felt as though I had a responsibility, like superman’s was to save the world, mine was to defy the generational belief system that certain things were wrong and certain others were right; I had questions that nobody was willing to give me answer to. So I developed theories for myself and ensured that I live by these theories, these seems a little too impossible for a child of nine, right? But I was not just any child.

For as long as I could remember, I had developed an affinity for seeing movies; I loved seeing movies, in whatever genre the movie was, I would watch. I remembered once when my mother needed to send me on an errand and after she had yelled my name over six to seven times, she had decided to come looking for me and found me sprawled carelessly on the rug, body facing down and my two arms holding my head firm, mouth slightly opened in reckless abandon as a long slimy salivary rope connected the floor and my mouth as I paid raft attention to the movie that I was seeing. My love for movies was never derailed by the fact that I lived in a town that could not boast of a single cinema, the best we could do was to buy these movies from the movie store at whatever price.

So whenever I went to Chibuzor’s store to buy movies, I always picked one extra without his knowledge. I was subscribed to the school of thought that stated that Chibuzor was cheating me, that the movies that he was selling to me were a lot cheaper than the amount that he was selling them and that I needed to ensure that I did my own back, a tit for tat philosophy from a nine year old could never go wrong, but I was mistaken, the music of the birdies still lingered in my head and was an unsubstantial proof.

Today Chibuzor un-customarily asked to check the backpack that I had brought into his store. As a witty nine year old, I tried to get myself out of the mess, I stalled, insulted him in Yoruba but unfortunately Chibuzor insisted that he had to see the contents of my bag. So, reluctantly I allowed him to check and the expression on his face was one that would remain with me even in my adult years.
“Ewo….oooo!!!” Chibuzor exclaimed, his eyes bulging like a ripe volcano ready to explode, I should have made a dash for the door at that instance, but I didn’t want to, I thought that I could talk myself out of it like most of my usual escapades. I was certain that he would understand once he heard my opinion and the reason why I was doing what I was doing, but like many of the things that happened that fateful day, I could not have been more wrong.
“You skinny little thief” He screamed as he threw my bag at me and followed it with a thunderous slap. I would have replied him like I normally do to my older siblings when they accuse me of testing out my theories on them, ‘what sort of nonsense was that? How dare he insult me like that? Who does he think he is? Who does he think I am? Just a mere road side trader’: but the slap was so resounding, that it drowned every thought from my head, Mr. Kokosari my Elementary School teacher whose palms my face had grown accustomed to would have been proud of Chibuzor.

I was still in my dazed state when I realized that our little squabble had attracted several on-lookers and interested participants and there was a crowd gathering slowly at the store and somewhere in my head, in the deepest of my recess, I could hear some diabolical chants or maybe it was my mind that was playing games on me.
“Ti owo ba te ole, Pipa ni e pa, ka roun jeba lola”
(If a thief is caught, he must be killed to make an example for the rest)
For a child that grew up in a very superstitious environment, who watched tales by moonlight without missing an episode, who was subjected to listening to ‘Nkan nbe’ by Kola Olawuyi on the radio every Friday night and who never missed a chance to sit by grandpa who was a major exporter of unrated and scary tales, I was certain that I was going to die; that song was always accompanied with bloodshed in all of grandpa’s tales and those crappy Yoruba movies that we saw at home, and yes, there were no age restrictions to most of them.

Chibuzor dragged me with the back of my shirt and dragged me outside to the main-street, and rained down another set of slaps on me, I didn’t wince once, neither did I pretend nor behave as though I felt any tinge of pain but I didn’t miss the chirping birds that hung over my head. The scene was so overwhelming; I could not bring myself to look up, by now I was feeling ashamed that I got caught. I still felt that I was supposed to get a chance to defend myself, because my unfortunate theory still lurked somewhere in my mind.
Among the several persons that were gathered watching the seeming movie that was unfolding, was a rather strange woman; she was strange because of the fact that she was strangely attired. Garbed in a traditional white attire, the blouse was hanging loosely to her lean shape and the Iro was held tightly too, she was jeweled in cowries and shells, and fairness of her skin made her all the more attractive. Chibuzor and his slap seemed to become the last thing on my mind as the woman got nearer. There was a longing in me to know more about her and the longing consumed me: She reminded me of the Yoruba mythical character called Yeye Osun , the first wife of Sango, the one whom a river in South-western Nigeria was also named after, she moved nearer to the scene where I was being manhandled and said something that I could not really understand to the orderlies that were with her and the next thing that I could remember was the manner in which the orderlies yanked me out of the clutches of Chibuzor and his cohorts.
“Don’t you know that this boy is the son of the soil?” the weird looking lady screamed at the angry igbo traders from whom I was just yanked off. “Do you want to take the law into your own hands?” I wondered what she meant by ‘the son of the soil’, I wondered if my crime was made any easier by the fact that I was an indigene of the town or the fact that I was a Yoruba and Chibuzor was Igbo. And why ethnicity was always a tool so easily used during the smallest of squabbles.
“Madam, I no send law o, do you know wetin my oga don do me because of this brat?” Chibuzor barked back at her. “Where law dey that time?”
“So you think beating him to death because of a few Nairas won’t cause you wahala? Abi?”
Chibuzor was angry and for good reasons too, the woman seemed as though she was not trying to understand at all. Ignoring Chibuzor she just snapped her fingers, a rather strange act that seemed overtly dramatic but which he orderlies understood only tool well as they came to drag me inside an ancient looking white 505 Peugeot.
“Madam, make I no disrespect you o, where you dey carry that pikin dey go? Me I wan collect my money…you think say I dey crase?” as he was uttering those words, the crowd was slowly thinning out, some of the onlookers were slowly losing interest, that was how such matters were solved these days, when the intertribal sword was drawn, nobody dares tackle it without having a better weapon in the fight. And without uttering another word back to Chibuzor, the lady checked her white handbag and removed a minty whole one thousand naira note and handed it over to Chibuzor. Despite myself, my eyes twitched with rage, I struggled to get free of my captors but they were a lot stronger than I was.
“But ma’m, he does not deserve the money”
“Did you deserve to get beaten?” she asked looking at me with face like an eagle, as though she could follow it up with a scarier version of Chibuzor’s slap. I had to change the direction of my gaze; her hawk face seemed to have had some sort of Kraken effect on me.

THE END
Tolu Daniel is a fiction writer, blogger and administrator of A Poet’s Diary. He blogs at http://toluojuola. and is @iamToluDaniel on twitter.

DonaldGenes:

Pix or we don't believe Yøu

Nlanders & their doubting Thomas's nature, smh …

Annypie:
Gbam!we dress to feel good,baby dey hv no choice but to be attracted by it..its only natural!

exactly o, no be we fault na

How We Fall – A Short Story on http://africanlovestories.


Read other Works by Uneñ Ameji on African Stories

How We Fall by Uneñ Ameji

It was like every other Monday.

The traffic was long enough to compete with the legendary Niger Bridge under political contention and Ms. Joe as usual was running late. A last-minute being and an uncompromising sleeper, Joe was one to sleep to her fill and took motorcycles from her house to wherever the traffic stopped before jumping on the next available bus heading to her work place 3km from home. A journey indeed it was. She didn’t mind – a good boss and an impressive salary didn’t come easy in the capital city.

But today was not like every other Monday.

The black bearded ruffian in what Joe decided were lice infested rags sped and maneuvered the meandering traffic as if hoards from hell pursued. She wasn’t in the least worried about the speed. The faster she got off the death trap, the better chance she had at escaping invisible lice that she felt crawling up her skin.

In what will be only fit for the movies, Joe in the middle of her thoughts saw the door of a moving vehicle in the go-slow open and within seconds was flying off the bike with her large bag and landing heavily in the green lush bush few meters away from the main road. Her first thoughts were for the safety of her laptop and phones as she lay there momentarily confused at the flight and why she wasn’t hurting.
Hanging on to the wet grasses and hoping she wasn’t bleeding internally; she mentality scanned her body for pains and felt none.

A look at her black shirt revealed she was not stained but a look at the scene unfolding before her caused creativity to pool at the base of her brain. A crowd had gathered with cars stopping and bike drivers holding the passenger who had opened the door without looking. A slap from a bike man initiated a little drag with the man that had opened the car door. The black ruffian on the coal tar was shouting to the heavens as if he was great pain. Joe knew he wasn’t. He wasn’t an actor.

“Are you okay?” it was a good looking man in a well fitted black suit blocking her view. With smart looking glasses perched on his nose, Joe did the next thing she knew would get her to the office without transport fare. Tears clouding her pretty brown eyes, she shook her head in the negative.
“I am sorry, I didn’t see you guys coming” it was the man who had opened the door joining the man who offered her his hand. Supporters as well as castigators moved to her.
“Can you stand?” it was the handsome man. He had lovely pink lips and bushy knotted brows too.
“I can’t” Joe said, the tears already pooling at her lids threatening to drop if she blinked. It was going to smear her makeup for sure but the prospect of getting a free ride to work wasn’t too much a price to pay. Moreover, she got kicks acting. It was her first love.
“Here, let me help you” he said as another supporter helped her up.
The whimper was fake but they didn’t know that. Joe was the ace faker when it came to dodging work or getting freebies.
“You need to get to the hospital” the man in black suit said as the traffic began to clear. A look at her wristwatch told her she didn’t have time for checkups.
“I am good” she answered as the tears rolled down her eyes.
“No, you are not” he stated and indicated they help him carry her to his car parked just few meters from the scene.
“I will go to the office and sign in first” she sniffed as she saw the lice-ladden bike man collect 2 notes of a thousand Naira.
“Where do you work? Let me take you to sign in and then take you to go checkup” the man whose perfume spoke volumes helped Joe along to his new Toyota Camry. Joe smiled inwardly.
‘A.C’ she almost sighed aloud.
“Fiji Consulting, Maitama” she said as she tip toed along with their hands, stopping momentarily to make sure her acting is believed. Just then, a woman who had since followed her decided to speak up as she settled on the passenger seat.
“Let me stretch it. It will swell up if you leave it” and just like that, she was on her knees grabbing her right leg immediately. Her eyes had dried considerably but as soon as the woman touched her, she twisted free and fresh tears flowed.
“Pleaaase” she cried holding her leg and twisting it free from the strong grip. Taking a hand she came to realize was the man in suit, she pulled him closer as she smelt him and he held her closely.
“Sorry” he muttered as she nodded and let her tears fall.
‘When will I get a part in the movie industry?’ she asked herself with an evil grin as she pressed her face into his stomach.
Soon, the woman decided she heard a click and stood up feeling like the latest traditional leg puller.
“She will just rub Aboniki. It have set” she said to no one particular, clapping her hand.
“My dear, sorry ehen, all this bike men are very careless” she continued breathlessly.
“Sorry oo” she rubbed Joe’s head and Joe raised her head in a nod. Her big eyes were already red as she sniffed. She saw the crowd stand up in roaring applause at her performance.
“Feel better?” the man in suit asked with such sweetness, Joe gave a small smile as the invisible audience disappeared.
“Let me take you to work and then we check the hospital” he said as if he didn’t just hear the leg puller declare her leg ‘set’.
“Ok” was the only word that came out from her mouth. Joe wanted to get out of here.
“Here” it was her zipped bag. The supporting man who had helped her up handed it over to her.
“Thank you” she tried a small smile with a sniff.
The crowd, desperate to continue hanging at the accident scene dispersed slowly and soon Joe was headed to work in a cold car and a handsome man beside her.
“Still aching ….” He asked as he joined the highway.
“Joe…., no, it feels much better” Joe answered settling into the ride. She would be in on time.
“I’m Kene” he said looking at the being sitting beside him. Kene had seen her fly from the back of bike and had stopped to offer his services as a ‘life saver’. He smiled inwardly at the thought. Kale, his closest friend called him a life saver ever since he decided he was going to be a doctor at the age of 10.
Joe nodded and stared ahead only too happy for the free ride.
He was cute but she was in a relationship – surely she couldn’t go out of her way to be friendly with fine men especially as she knew how scared she was of her approaching nuptials. When she was afraid, Joe was a flight risk. Yomi, the groom was sweet. The perfect man for her but sometimes, she wished she would just catch him cheating and have a valid reason to be single again – to take a breath of fresh air. She longed for the days she didn’t belong to no one; days she could decide to stay indoors and sleep rapture. But those days were days of old.

She was getting married.

“Are you okay?” his voice startling her from her sad thoughts.
“Yes. Thanks” she released a small sweet smile and she saw him smile back.
“You fly really well” he cracked and he was rewarded with a hearty laugh. Kene liked what he saw and when that woman had gone down to twist the poor girl’s ankle; it took him a lot of restraint not to tell her to leave it alone.
“Thanks” Joe said.
“So Joe?” he continued the conversation.
“Josephine” she said and he nodded like he understood.
“I like Joe” he smiled as he neared Maitama and she directed.
“Me too” she laughed again and she pointed at the blue building at the Close.
“I will wait and take you to the hospital” he said as she made to get down.
“No, no need really” she was already hopping out.
“Did I mention that it is my hospital?” he asked coming out to help.
“No. you omitted that” she said in a small laugh.
“Well, now you know. And it is free too” he said as he helped her out.
“Now how can I refuse?” she feigned disappointment and he laughed. It sounded like a snort.
“You simply can’t” he said as she leaned in and he helped her past the curious security guards.
“Let’s have your card doctor. I will come in as soon as I get the vibe that I’m becoming an invalid” and that got her a hearty laugh. Joe was dismissing him.
“Right” he said after she limped into the reception.
“Thanks” she waved his card as he left. She waited for him to leave, limped to her office and as soon as she sat down took out her heels and her laptop.
She got to work.
It was 3:00pm when Anna called her from the reception.
“Your Doctor is here to see you?” it was a question.
“My doctor?” Joe asked trying to finish tidying her accounts.
“Dr. Kene”
“Oh! I am coming” Joe said changing into her flats and taking a quick look at her mirror. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and a clean wipe of her oily face she made to the reception with slow calculated steps. Perhaps he could take her back home too.
“Hey Doc” she called happily as she approached the good doctor without his suit. The sleeves of his purple shirt folded at the hands and neck opened at the collar, he looked friendly and younger.
“You didn’t come, I was in the neighborhood and I decided to checkup” he said smiling.
“I …….” Joe was saying as an awkwardly tall male walked into the reception. His eyes looking out for someone and then he focused his round eyes briefly on her before walking up to them.
“I see you have found her” he said and the good doctor turned to acknowledge him.
Joe looked at the tall man and suddenly felt like a dwarf. She itched to climb some inches. She could tell he could see into the middle of her head and she didn’t like the feeling it evoked.
“Yes, I did” Kene said smiling.
“How’s your leg?” the tall man was asking. Joe didn’t know if she should answer. Kene helped her.
“Better” he said and Joe looked at him with a smile.
“So are we taking her in?” he asked fixing her with a look that Joe didn’t find pleasant.
“No, you are not taking me in” she finally found her tongue as she looked from one to the other.
“See! I told you she was okay” he finally said smiling at a confused Joe. Anna, who had been watching the exchange, picked up her ringing intercom.
“Oga is calling you” she said after dropping her intercom.
“When are you closing?” Kene asked.
“5:00pm” Joe said feeling the eyes of the tall man piercing into hers.
“I will come take you home” Kene said excitedly and Joe simply nodded.
“Kale Kanwa” the tall man extended his long hands fit for a pianist and Joe momentarily wondered if he played. His Adam’s apple danced as he laughed at Kene hitting his hand away.
“Joe…” she said simply as she smiled at their exchange. They looked like an interesting pair.
“Joe who?” he asked as Kene pulled him out of the reception because Anna was already beckoning to Joe.
“Joe Nathaniel” she answered as she made to walk away.
“Joe with the broken ankle, we coming to pick you up at 5:00pm” he said as he gave in to the tugging from Kene.
“Don’t let him scare you. See you soon” Kene called and they left soon. Joe smiled as she watched them go. An odd pair…she shook her head.
The next hours flew past and by 5:10pm, she looked like she needed to be re-hydrated. Hanging her large bag containing her laptop on her shoulders, she stepped out of the building and decided to make it to the junction. Calling Kene to take her home will be asking for trouble.
“Are we ready?” the familiar voice called from the car park and she turned to see the awkwardly tall man leaning on a white SUV that looked like a jalopy. It was covered in dust.
“Like my car?” he said reading the expression in her eyes. She smiled.
“Where is Kene?” Joe asked looking around.
“He asked me to come pick you up. He got another bleeding case” he said without emotion. Joe laughed.
“Great! She has a wicked sense of humor” he laughed and made to open the door for her.
“Thanks”
“Anything for a short woman” he called as he gave an evil laugh.
“Awkwardly tall man” she retorted and laughed at her reaction.
“Put on your seat belt” he said as he walked over to the other side.
“So are we going to meet Kene?”Joe asked as they left her office.
“Awww, she has fallen in love with the good doctor” he said looking at her briefly before focusing on the road.
“I have not fallen” Joe answered angrily and amused at the same time.
“Nopes….we are taking the little woman home after buying some ligament nonsense – Doctor’s order” he winked and Joe laughed. His Adam’s apple danced again as he swallowed a laugh.
“So how’s the leg?” he asked as they joined the express and he sped on.
“Doesn’t need amputation” she said and he laughed again, sparing her a side glance.
“So what do you do at Fiji Consulting?” he asked as they drove in silence for a while.
“Keeping their account. Thinking of committing fraud though. Just in case you see my photo in The Guardian” Joe said and she got another side glance. He laughed through his nose and the sound sounded lovely yet strange. She was definitely getting in over her head.
“Why The Guardian?” he asked after his original laugh.
“Boss reads only The Guardian” Joe replied as they reached the traffic.
“Makes sense” he gave a smile. His lips upturned and Joe wondered how it would feel in a kiss. A quick mental slap and she was good.
“You live in Karu?” she asked as he kept a straight face and drove with rapt attention.
“Nopes” he answered, another side glance.
“So Kene requests that you take me home”
“Yes. He wants to know where you live so that he can monitor your leg” he gave another evil laugh.
“Evilly” Joe said as she heard him laugh.
“Goodily” he replied naturally as if they were longtime friends
“So you want to listen to your favorite song?” he asked as they inched closer to home.
“I don’t have a favorite song” she answered and watched him play a track.
“Miranda Lambert – Over You, if you are wondering” he said as he turned up the volume and continued to stare straight ahead.
“I wasn’t wondering” Joe answered as they neared the diversion that was taking her home. Luckily, the traffic flowed and she briefly wanted an impromptu traffic that will keep the conversation going.
He was awkwardly tall – she couldn’t get past that but then he was cute with his round roving eyes, hyena-like laugh, impressive hairline and an Adam’s apple that should worry her but it did more to fuel the quiet interest that was building within her. She didn’t dwell on the lips and long fingers; that would be asking for trouble.
She definitely shouldn’t ‘like’ any other man and in less than 12 hours, she had met interesting ones.
“What do you do?” she asked.
“I am waiting for my inheritance” he answered seriously with a wicked look that got a laugh he wanted.
“Construction. Lovely to build masterpieces. I’d take you to some of my sites when your leg lets you. Be warned – my works are taller than me” he answered easily as they arrived at the roundabout.
“Left” Joe answered with a shake of her head as she directed him to the house.
Soon she was home and he remained in his car clutching the steering while he waited for her to get down.
“I’d love to” Joe answered surprising herself on agreeing to see his sites. If she was any truthful, she’d say she wanted to spend more time with him.
“Great! And you should give Kene a call. Tell him I drove like a human being” he winked and soon he was zooming off. Joe stood smiling as she watched him drive off.
She definitely was going to get tangled with this one…
…Kale…she turned to walk into her flat and missing a step, she was falling into the gutter……a thick blackness overwhelming her as continued to fall…..
Grrrrrrrrrrrrggh! Grrrrrrrrrrrrrgh!! Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh!!! Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh!!!!
Joe woke up to the angry doorbell blaring so loud she jumped off the bed and rushed to the front door to open it without asking who it was. It was probably Maimuna – her flat mate who liked to play with the doorbell just for the fun of it after her club nights.
It was a Saturday and Joe was earning her beauty sleep.
What was she dreaming about again? She searched her fuzzy brain as she unlocked the door. She blinked and shaded her sleep-raw eyes as the hot sun blinded her with her right hand.
“Good Morning” a familiar voice greeted.
“Yes?” she answered finding the source of the voice as she cleared the mass of long borrowed hair from her face.
And there he stood looking down at her with warm brown eyes, amusement lighting his roving eyes and his twitching lips as he studied her appearance. Dressed in a flimsy sleeveless shift shirt that hung off her shoulders and clearly displayed her provocative chest, Joe looked like a sleep-demon. She looked down at herself and back at him.
“Do you find it to your liking?” she snapped, irritated at his height advantage and the delayed smile tugging at his lips. He laughed then and Joe found herself stepping back.
Surely he wasn’t real.
“Is that stubborn Maimuna home?” he asked as he fixed Joe a stare after his original laugh. It was him, the dream guy; her brain trying to retrieve her dream as fast as it could.
“And who wants to know?” she asked heating under his stare. His Adam’s apple.
“Kale Kanwa” he answered.
A rush of air from her tensed lungs.
It couldn’t be.

She was getting married in 2 months.

***

Read more from Uneñ Ameji on the Okadabooks App. Love on the 25th – a corporate love story set in Nigeria is her latest. Get Courting Baida and Finding Baida on African Stories. She is @UnenAmeji on twitter.

Sheenor:


Thank You.....Quote of the day.....well done dearie.

dancok:
are u d one in that pic,if it's u,u don't need to dress at all.I short I dey feel strong tin for u.

Thanks dear.

As for me I dress to impress all living beings!

Fellow Ladies Ofcourse! If They Wanna Impress Men, They'll Simply Go Naked!

Most times, girls dress to impress men and to oppress their fellow girls

lynpetra:
na ladies o.ladies.Oh see as babes just dey lie for this threa.Women impress other won first before men.The quest to look better and hotter among ladies don land many Inside babalawo pot of skulls.My man doesn't even know how human hair looks!He doesn't check my shoes and clothe tabs to see if its designers!Thank God say i no dey F§K again for Peruvian,brazilian,,togolian,European,ethiopian and finally Chinese Goat hair again.Now na to plait thread.Infact i go soon shave the hair.I rather spend the money y on grooming my pubic hair like oyakilome's.

I like this girl pass anything for this world....did u see d way she just came into the thread and blew it...she said it d way it is,not all this ladies that come in here only to say ''i dress to impress,I dress to b comfortable'',whats that?...i was beginning to get pissed already when every answer each of d ladies gave were the same...

Elcapo:
I Dress To Kill

You will find men dat will kill u oh. Don't dress to kill again.

Advice.

EJanni:
I dress to be comfortable and to enhance my confidence where ever I go. Infact I dress to stand out in the public not really to empress any guy or gurl.

U dress to stand out before?..before humans or spirits?

debolly:
I dress to satisfy myself not to impress anybody, because when am well dressed, I am always confident.

Can you pple just stop lying,u dress to impress someone,Wether a man or woman ...is another thing entirely

e4emma:
Have been pondering on this subject matter for a while. An average guy thinkshis woman is trying to be beautiful and dress cute just for him, which should be the case naturally.But what do you make of it, say for marriied women..they dont need to impress the guy again now! yet they still spend hours b4 d mirror before they go to the market to buy pepper..(lols). Here, the guy is not with her, yet she still paint the crayons and the markers on her face. I feel its more than the guy now, seems these ladies just try to outdo each other. Yet we guys feels we are he reason they go through the troubles.


so ladies, lets hear you! Who do u dress to impress?
and guys, who do you also dress to impress?

#not seduction

Ladies dress to impress fellow ladies and un-dress to impress men.

They are agent. They dress to seduce there pastors and guys[color=#990000][/color]












But that's none of my business

They dress to impress fat pockets,

Elcapo:
I Dress To Kill

Yu be Lady Naija peeps failin exams since 1914

How many products do you know

The answer is quite obvious