Q for Queen

I’m looking for a sexy dress. Scratch that, I’m looking for a scandalous dress. One with a front slit that flashes my legs when I walk. One that holds my booty strong like gel on natural baby hair. It should not be sleeveless because my  arms must not prosper. I want flirty arms. One that miraculously turns my 3 stomachs into one. I’m fine with all colors for you baby, don’t you know black skin glows in every color?

Im looking a heel. An open toe heel. I don’t want to suffocate my toes on that day. I want a heel that allows me to sway this way and that way, this way and that way. One that allows me to walk in slow motion and dance without missing a beat. I want a heel that is foot wear from 6- 11pm, and lingerie in the middle of the night.

I’m looking for a spa. A clean, warm spa for my skin and vagina. I want delicate hands to scrub the struggles of life from my skin. I want to part my legs like the red sea and soak in the warm wax as I’m being waxed. I want to sip wine, before and after they pluck all strands of hair from my portal of life. After the wax, I want my clitoris to say ” yooooooh” and my skin to say ” bitch ready”.

I’m not looking for underwear. What for?

I’m looking for a good salon. One with a good stylist to wash and massage my natural hair. I’m one of those women to gets wet when my hair is touched gently. I don’t know how it happens but it does, every single time someone touches my hair. I want to be wet on that day, to walk around feeling soft, hence the need for a good salon with a good stylist.

I’m looking for wine recommendation. Sweet red wine that will have my mouth singing jingle bells with every sip. Dont refer me to sijui 11th street anga what street. If I wanted to drink urine I would not have asked for your help.

I’m looking for a good hotel. Preferably, with an open roof top or somewhere in the bushes. Somewhere I can fart and scream simultaneously. Somewhere where they serve food in plates, with spoons and napkins and the music IS NOT mugiithi, please. Somewhere where the default drink is not Guarana. Infact the very opposite of Tumus and Kamakis because I deserve to go out on a date where the tables have flowers and the menu is not written on a black board on the wall.

I’m looking for a love basket. One with flowers, perfume, chocolates, every ready batteries, an envelope with money and a note with original affirmations that have not been lifted from a backstreet boys song or Google. I’m looking to buy that basket for myself. Yes. This year, I’m expecting things from me. I’m not waiting to receive them from someone else. Blame it on Miley Cyrus and her new song.

I’m not looking for a mammal of the other gender for the said date. For the first time in my life, I want, infact I yearn, to be with myself, alone with myself, my thoughts, my wine, my nice dress, my nice room/getway. I don’t want to tire myself, explaining and hinting what I want, I don’t want to wait for someone else to make my day special, I have waited for far too long. This year, I’m giving myself the treatment I have always wished for, complete with toe curling orgasms, hence the need for batteries.

By Village Girl Thoughts And Dreams