I showed up, and showed off

At the speed of light I dashed into the washrooms, this time round for number 3. My Saturday classes start at exactly 9:00 am but we all must be in class by 8:50 am that even a minute later will cost you a 20,000ugx as fine. The problem here is that by Friday the previous day, all that my brain thinks about is parte after parte after parte. An interruption to this for a morning class is such a heavy weight. Since I stay miles away from the venue I often use a "SafeBoda" for safety and convenience. But this one Saturday, I missed the clock ticking for a light meal I intended for breakfast.

I intimated to the SafeBoda rider, Lutaaya, that my time was fast spent but as you know you can't have your cake and also eat it, he didn't give a damn. He is one of those guys devoted to all the traffic rules including speed limit. I hated that I was selfishly asking him to go against the values he signed up for. Anyway, his integrity drew me back to my senses. He took his time but I managed to arrive just in time, 3 minutes to 8:50.

With a pacing beat of heart, I feared I was evidence of all the morning rush and fury in my head. Aptly, I sneaked into the washrooms for a touch up and to my amusement I run into other ladies patching up their looks. I burst into laughter to calm my panic and one of them carrying the weight of mind like I did, whispered to me, "ekitooke kiffa nsalira". According to my judgement she could be in her 50s and the other in her 40s. Listening to them say that you should never do yourself a disservice by not looking your best at any given time spoke to my already whirling spirit.

"Why would they care about their look at their age?" I thought to myself. Then I remembered the wise words of a good friend on erotic capital, a 4th type of capital after economic, cultural and social which tickled my brain abit. Brought to life by Catherin Hakim, erotic capital is one of the kind that every individual is lucky to own naturally even when artificially it can be acquired. Ever passedby a guy and you clearly see effort in what he appears like regardless of the results, that's it, best emulated as a lawyer's capital; the dresscode, the language, the humor and charm all wrapped in cloak of wisdom.

In this feminist world of "bukowu" this beauty bias won't hurt anyone. It's such an adorable thing to find that some people still care about what they look like, smell like and it's sad we have alienated these by referring to them as slay queens/kings for an effort we are forfeiting. As we work on what our brains look like, our wallets, and social circles, let's not forget that image.

Next time I passby you looking like a snack and smelling like candy, remember I have attended my classes. Yes, I am coming for your attention. I'll leave this to the wishes though, that everyday I appear like I am trying to impressing that Prince charming, polish my accent like 24/7 is time for that interview to heaven. That when am gone, you'll remember that each time I had an opportunity, I showed up and showed off.