I have been in brand management since dinosaurs roamed the earth. I’ve sold alcohol to imams, sold condoms to eunuchs and sold Ozempic to malnourished kids. I’ve even sold zobo to politicians. So, yes, I know the power of branding and repositioning.
And apparently, so do prostitutes.
Because these days, commercial sex is denuded of its stigma. It is now accoutred in finery and chic language.
Girfriend Experience.
Erotic Masseuse.
Sugar Baby.
Working Girl
Hook-Up.
It is a stunning repositioning. Heck, these sisters might as well hand out business cards: ’Folashade Doxy. Nightime Accountant.’ I’m envious.
Whether it is couchsurfing, ride hailing or ‘bleisure,’ I’m all for disruptive business models. But not when it comes to sex. A man deserves to know with whom he conjoins his spirit.
Oh, I forgot. You are not ‘religious.’
“Abi, which one consain spirit for this matter?” You ask. “Sex is sex. Nothing spiritual about it. It is testosterone cavorting with estrogen and oxytocin holding hands with endorphins. It is simply the interplay of hormones and neurotransmitters manifested in the erotic and physical union of nether regions.”
I sorry for you. One day, you will interplay with Karishika.
You guys remember the movie Karishika, right? Nollywood has come a long way.
I was saying…
Sex as designed by God is a one-flesh union with spiritual import. “Uno caro” One flesh (Genesis 2:24, Mark 10:8). Sex was intended to be between married couples for carnal pleasure and to raise godly children. But that yam head Adam went to collect and lick agbalumo from his wife and doomed all creation. Now sex is no longer sacred.
But I get it; you don’t believe in all that spirit and religious tosh. But guess who does?
Yup. That’s right. Old Nick. Satan.
And he’s stoked that you don’t.
But I digress. This post is not about religion. It is about BBL, prostitution and moral bankruptcy.
I was saying, back in the days, if you wanted to consort with a prostitute, you knew where to go.
In Ikeja, you went to Jolly Friend Hotel.
Or to ‘Ambassador.’
Or to Conerest Hotel.
Or to Pekas.
In Victoria Island, there was Kuramo Beach, Sanusi Fafunwa and Y-Not…
Please don’t ask me how I knew all these cathouses. I read about them in Songs of Praise.
The point is, in days gone by, it was easy to identify commercial sex. The ladies of the night hung out at brothels, beckoned to you on street corners and stalked nightclubs. And because the trade was illegal, some secrecy and indignity attended it.
But these days, courtesans coyly advertise on Instagram, TikTok, and WhatsApp statuses. The post may appear to be innocent ‘content creation.’ The girl shows off her body and gives a social commentary. But the patrons understand the game. They slide into DMs. It may start with amorous flirting. But it is faux amour. At the end of that rainbow is commercial sex or a ‘hook-up.’ At some point, clothes will come off and money will exchange hands.
Now, what people choose to do with their bodies or money should be none of my business. But as the second-in-command to angel Gabriel, it becomes my business when escorts display devout statuses on WhatsApp.
‘Jesus got me.’
‘I’m sweet because God is sweet in my life.’
‘Taste and see that the Lord is good.’
‘Na Baba God dey run am.’
Taste what?!
Na Baba God dey run wetin?!
Even in the days when mandem were under the grip of Satan, we weren’t that sacrilegious. We dared not invite God to bless our lechery. Something at the back of our minds told us we were playing with Ọ̀run àpáàdì. Iná àìnípẹ̀kun. Hell faya. But now, a sugar baby goes to church and speaks in tongues.
O Lord, come back quickly!
Before Arsenal wins the league.
Again, I digress.
Back in my day, if you came home with a textbook that wasn’t yours, there would be an Inquisition and possibly a burning at the stake. Now, 23-year-olds buy cars for their parents with no questions asked. A girl with a BBL is celebrated for being the breadwinner in her family. Breadwinner doing what? What is she selling?
It is a degradation of our values, a corruption of our morals. Lifestyles and values that were once odoriferous are now aromatic. Celebrated. It is a descent into depravity. We now call evil good and good evil.
But it’s all good. You are not religious.
On a parting note, let me leave you with how Britannica defined prostitution.
Prostitution, the practice of engaging in relatively indiscriminate sexual activity, in general with someone who is not a spouse or a friend, in exchange for immediate payment in money or other valuables. Prostitutes may be female or male or transgender, and prostitution may entail heterosexual or homosexual activity, but historically most prostitutes have been women and most clients men.
So, it doesn’t matter if the girl is ‘cream’ or a streetwalker, or if the payment is a Lambo or a Double Chickwizz Meal; if the pleaser expects payment for his/her pleasures, then it is prostitution.
Brazilian Butt Lift.
In marketing, there is something called ‘brand codes’ or ‘distinctive brand assets.’
These are sensory identifiers that allow customers to instantly recognise a brand without seeing the logo. They provide a mental shortcut between the brand and its advertising.
For example, the Netflix ‘TUDUM’ sound is a sensory (auditory) identifier. When you hear the sound, you know it is Netflix even when you are not looking at your screen. The ‘TUDUM’ sound is a Netflix brand code or distinctive brand asset.
You can also identify a Coke bottle in the dark. All you have to do is run your fingers over the bottle. The shape of the bottle is an identifier. A tactile one. And it is a Coca-Cola brand code.
It is the same with BBL.
It is a brand code.
When I see a lady with a BBL, I instantly think of a pay-for-sex enterprise.
What? Who is this guy? He is sexist! Kill him!
Ladies, before you bring out your calabashes or come out from your banana trees, hear me out.
The argument has been made. There are some chicks who, when you see them, you’d say, “Oya, take, go and do BBL.” They are ‘shapeless’ and their butts are flatter than a sole fish. They shame womanhood and suffer from low self-esteem. Therefore, the argument goes, a Brazilian Butt Lift would, well, lift their self-esteem.
But I am unconvinced.
First, there is nothing like a shapeless human being. Round is a shape. Flat is a shape. In fact, being shapeless is a shape.
Second, the presence of a flat butt is not a defining attribute of womanhood. A womb is. Ova are. Love is. Nurturance is. So are empathy, resilience, grace and style. You are not your boobies or butt, woman!
Third — and this is very important — somewhere out there is a guy who is crazy about flat butts.
Yeah, I know it sounds ludicrous, but there are strange people in the world.
I’m sure you have many examples. I’m one. I have a flat butt. My jeans can’t find a chair on my butt. But my wife still married me. She hasn’t pushed me to do a BBL.
Lastly, if you need a porky butt to lift your self-esteem, you definitely need an esteem of yourself.
Self-esteem is what you work on, not what you add on. Because once you keep adding, you never stop. First BBL, third BBL, Glutathione injection, rib removal surgery. It never ends.
The other day, I saw a chick at a restaurant. My fingers could wrap around her waist! Where are the intestines and organs? No way the Good Lord created her that way, surely?
Then my wife told me she likely had rib moulding or rib removal surgery. To achieve an aesthetic hourglass shape, a rib or two is removed from a woman’s torso.
A rib or two.
Our rib.
The rib for which El Shaddai had to rock Adam to sleep to extract.
So, you people slept and woke up one day, looked at yourselves in the mirror, and decided our rib was why you are not getting attention?
Abba Father, please borrow me your powers for five minutes. I want to test something.
I swear, I will turn you people into platypuses!
Back to BBL.
My theory is that seven out of 10 girls with BBL in, say, Nigeria, did it for the benefit of men.
Yup.
The sisters want to snag lecherous men with money.
Look, I understand body positivity, self-consciouness and confidence in one’s skin. There can be good reasons to have a liposuction, tummy tuck, breast reduction or scar/tattoo removal. Even a boob job or a BBL. But I doubt that ‘body positivity’ is why most Naija girls do BBL.
Think about it. A BBL surgery is one of the most dangerous cosmetic surgeries. Mortality rate is about 1 in 3,000. Fat and pulmonary embolisms are possible complications and can be fatal. So, why would anyone take such risks because of ‘self-esteem’? I mean, people die from BBL. Why go through it?
Of course, I know why. It is because of social media and TV. It is because of Nicki Minaj, Kim Kardashian and Real Housewives of Hell. It is the allure of celebrity life. The fawning of lewd men and a rummage in their pockets.
It is a degradation of our values, a corruption of our morals. It is why the winner of Big Brother Naija gets N150m and the winners of Cowbellpedia get N5m.
But I understand; smart students don’t make for interesting reality TV. People who copulate on live TV do.
We are all complicit.
Yet we are a religious people.