Day 4: What I Wear to Bed
So, this turns out to be one of my favourite times of the day, because I have always loved my sleep since I was a child. But then again, before I jump into whatever I wear to bed, a number of factors need to be considered:
- The kind of bed I am sleeping in, or whether there even is a bed in the first place. Heaven knows I have had my fair share of nights on the floor, the most recent being the first day of this year. If you are thinking of finally moving into your own house, be braced for the cold.
- The weather
- Do I have company? If yes, is it the same or different gender?
Sometimes, I find myself curled up in bed next to the one person who cares for me a little much more. These times, I always want to turn into an infant and feel the love straight from the heart, even better when these nights are chilly and silent, apart from the slow music playing in the background. These times, I throw out the veil of strength and arrogance, and allow myself to be sheltered underneath those huge arms, my hair being gently patted.
And what other better way to do this than go nude? What other way to feel the heat other than having maximum skin contact? How else would we bond into one body if we maintained our clothes in their places?
Shake your head all you want, but these nights aren’t there every day, and a girl has to make maximum use of them. And nude here means not even the headscarf gets the chance to come in between us. Well, unless it is that time of the month when Moses and the Israelites really want to get to the other side. During those days, only a booty short will get a chance to sneak in. Otherwise, it is nude all the way.
Try it sometime. It feels great!!
But company is not only limited to the opposite sex. I have found myself in situations that forced me to share the bed with some of my female friends, and this has always proved to be one of my worst nightmares. I cannot stand the sight of a naked woman, let alone sharing the same bed. So, regardless of their preferences, I would go to bed fully dressed, or in those baggy nightgowns that leave nothing to the eyes.
These nights are the longest because I can never even turn in bed because I imagine it will be an ass grinding against ass session, and that would completely mess up my head.
Want to know why I don’t sleep over at your place? There you go.
I have spent a greater part of my early twenties at the Coast, that almost all my night wear includes very light clothing that could easily be gotten rid off just in case the temperatures become unbearable in the middle of the night. This ranges from extremely short silk nightdresses that allow enough air down there, because both of us know Candidiasis thrives well in the heat, and has the same symptoms as any other sexually transmitted disease.
In this era of people spreading herpes like the common cold, nobody wants to go around scratching their nether in public, attracting stares from everyone, including the nurses who will openly ask you why you are having unprotected sex, and follow up with the famous ukimwi na mimba haziwashtui? question. And even after finding out that it is actually candidiasis, the only thing you will get close to an apology is unajua hizi vitu hua zinafanana. I hope hua unavaa suruali ya cotton!
Also, Candidiasis is brave enough to not give you enough time to get some privacy before the itching sensation strikes. It strikes right when the national flag is being raised and everyone else is at attention.
But on those rare occasions where I find myself in Nairobi, or Kakamega, or when the Mombasa weather suddenly turns romantic, I love myself a baggy sweater and booty shorts, because I love my thighs so much, I can never think of covering them both in the day and during the night.
Some days are definitely better than others in so many ways. But even when I have had a pretty gruesome day, the only thing that calms my heart is the knowing that when I get to the house, I will be slipping into the most comfortable night wear.
Crampy and dullmoods will drive me into that lingerie that lies neatly folded in my closet; the one my friends tell me it would make my man cook for me even when I was not hungry. But I guess the only reason I bought it in the first place is because there are times that is the only thing that hugs me in ways no one has ever done before. Not that I will not wear it for him anyway, but that would just be a plus.
On days that I feel unwanted, troubled, let down, traumatized, lost, unloved or anything close to stressed, I love taking control of my body in the night, and the only way I could achieve that is dressing skimpy, so I would stare at my reflection in the mirror and marvel at how much lies underneath me; so much yet to be explored.
Happy days mean I have been myself throughout the day,;I have held my head high and accomplished most if not all of what I had planned to. So, when I retire to bed, all I want is to cover the parts that need to be covered, using anything possible. It is never that hard anyway.
Keep it here. Tomorrow brings new chances!