Baby Can I Upgrade You?

4. Sinful

Imani
What to wear? What to wear? What to wear? I repeat in my head as I ruffle through the dresses hanging in my walk-in wardrobe. I've just finished taking a relaxing bubble bath in preparation for Candi's "fun" night. Being in my fluffy black robe and slippers almost makes me want to crawl under the covers of my heavenly soft bed with a good book.

Too formal! Too flowy! Too long! Too small! It boggles my mind how I have so many clothes but can't find ONE dress for tonight! Granted, most of my dresses are wedding appropriate, and Candi explicitly stated she would kill me if I showed up dressed like the mother of the bride to the club. That girl plays too much, but I wouldn't change her for the world.

I'm about to give up and call Candice to cancel and brave the consequences when my eye catches something sparkling inside my gray faux fur coat. I reach out and pull out the velvet hanger to further investigate the mystery item. The lights dance on the silver and black metallic fabric, reflecting on my chocolate skin. I shake off the coat to reveal my long sleeve bodycon "disco" dress. It has a bateau neckline with a draped back, a swirly psychedelic black and silver print, and a short slit on the left knee area. I had completely forgotten about this gem. Thank goodness for retro themed parties! I am spared having to endure Candi's wrath, guilt tripping, and week-long sulking.

I rummage through my underwear and shapewear drawer, finding exactly what I'm looking for and slip off my robe so I'm butt naked in front of my full-length mirror. I squeeze myself into my tightest bodysuit to smooth out all the lumps and bumps and put on my best red satin and black lace push up bra. I have a nice figure with an ample D bust, shapely waist with a bit of a pooch, wide hips, and thunder thighs that are backed up by my big round butt. I got that ATM (African Trademark) body, baby! I love my body and have worked hard on my self-confidence over the years. It wasn't easy growing up finding stretchmarks speedily vining across my ass, lower back, and even my stomach! My breasts didn't defy gravity and hung lower than my skinny friend's ones. My bottom half looks better in clothes because it's riddled with irreversible moon craters of cellulite. I was so brainwashed by the media's representation of the "perfect body" that I almost starved myself to death, but thank God for spending summer holidays in the village with my maternal relatives and seeing that my body was normal and many girls my age had the same "flaws." I sometimes slip into old insecure habits every now and then, but who doesn't? I'm human, and every day is an opportunity to refill my self-love jar.

I slip the dress over my head praying to God that it still fits. I get it past my bust, it slides over my belly easily, it squeeeeezes past my hips, and it finally hugs my thighs a few inches above the knee. The cheeky little slit on my left thigh reveals a sliver of flesh. I admire my reflection and do a little half turn to get a peek of the back and all I have to say is, DAMN, THAT ASS, THOUGH! Mama looks damn good! I love how the open back stops before my back rolls so they don't take away from all this deliciousness. I slip on my matte blood-red platforms with a thin strap across the ankle to complete the look.

I'm feeling extra nice tonight, so I beat my face for the gods, honey! My L'Oreal Paris Infallible Foundation perfectly matches my milk chocolate skin, covering up the blemishes and dark marks I have under my eyes. Once I have my perfect canvas, I go to town with getting my eyebrows on point with dark brown liner, it's not 1995 anymore, so there will be no crazy black sperm brows. I give myself a sexy smoky eye with a touch of metallic shadow, and I top it all off with crimson red lipstick. I look like a sexy chunky vampire. I twist my long black faux-locks across the top of my head and tie them to one side. I'm ready!

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"We're here!" Candi squeals, bouncing up and down excitedly on her seat with a big cheesy smile.