Gawker posted a story on Idris Elba and his enormous 'natural resource'. He has since written a disclaimer. Apparently, he was wearing a microphone in his pants and people mistook it for, em something else. :-)
photo credits: Gawker
After I read Gawkers story I remembered a childhood phobia, and wandered if anyone still has it too. First, let me tell you about limbs.
There is something about a man’s hands that I find fascinating.
I find limbs fascinating by themselves but I am attracted more often than not by the accessory he uses first, like watches, bangles, rings.
A good watch will have me looking at a man’s wrists, linger at the quality of what he is wearing, have a conversation with myself about what sort of spender he is, the sort of taste he has, whether a woman shopped the wares for him and yes, about the other thing too.
It all first started with the sex education lecture I had from Mother. She started the sessions subtly with asking biology questions. Do I know this? Do I know that? Did I read that book she left on the table? You know, the EVERY WOMAN book?
Of course I had. I read everything since I could read. Dad’s library seemed like a university library then. You could find anything there from sciences, arts, the full volumes of the Britannica to semi cultic and religious books. I loved the Apocrypha. Mother was so worried at my choice of literature. Ah! I digress.
I was talking about men and their limbs.
I find limbs fascinating by themselves but I am attracted more often than not by the accessory he uses first, like watches, bangles, rings.
A good watch will have me looking at a man’s wrists, linger at the quality of what he is wearing, have a conversation with myself about what sort of spender he is, the sort of taste he has, whether a woman shopped the wares for him and yes, about the other thing too.
It all first started with the sex education lecture I had from Mother. She started the sessions subtly with asking biology questions. Do I know this? Do I know that? Did I read that book she left on the table? You know, the EVERY WOMAN book?
Of course I had. I read everything since I could read. Dad’s library seemed like a university library then. You could find anything there from sciences, arts, the full volumes of the Britannica to semi cultic and religious books. I loved the Apocrypha. Mother was so worried at my choice of literature. Ah! I digress.
I was talking about men and their limbs.
Mother always start our sex talks lectures with the shocks. Seated outside our home in the early 2000s, she would point at a very skinny girl passing and ask me to observe her. I would. More people would pass and she would choose a man among them. See him? See how tall he his? See how long his fingers are? Notice how his buttocks is almost inverted? Listen. If this man lies with that skinny girl that passed just now, his penetration will enter and pass right through her excretion section!
I was so scared of men after that. It took several counselling sessions after, before I even considered coitus as an option to having babies. . See. At 16 I was a full fleshed tomboy. Joined a football team. I was very uninterested in boys and had started asking funny questions. I would read, no, do research about artificial insemination BECAUSE I was scared witless of the whole man/woman thing. Before I left for the university, Mother started with the real sex talks. It wasn't that bad, you see baby? There are options to large things, see? Sex with someone you love will not hurt you, she would say.
My mum is a teacher. She studied Sociology and Psychology as degrees. I am sure she knew what she was doing with me. Mothers always do.
Apart from Mum’s shockers I am not exactly sure where I picked this knowledge about how to spot huge organs but here is the tell. It is all in the limbs. See, the almighty creator of man has very meticulously calculated these things. Every part of a man’s body has a sort of mathematics to it so when you read this, do not assume it is some old wives tale.Really, and I am not that old (yet) anyway. :-)
A man’s fingers (and sometimes toes) are almost a direct measurement of his, em, other limb (before it goes for a walk, that is). The wedding finger or the engagement finger is the exact prototype of his recreational/ procreational tool, if you know what I mean. Remember how you can measure your waist length by measuring your neck and multiplying that measurement by two? That is kind of how this works.
Ladies, If you are afraid of the Elba effect, do remember to consider the following details before considering a sexual relationship with him:
1. Is he black?
2. Is he tall?
2. Look at his finger. Are they long? Slim or Fat?
3. Does he have an inverted buttocks?
This research is for you ‘Sister Mary’ in that no-sex-till-marriage relationship. If your answers to the questions above are all in the affirmative, you may be in for a huge Elba. Your pastor or marital counselor will not tell you this but I am your friend. Tell your fiance you want to read his palms. Take them into your hands and read his fingers CAREFULLY. Is he black? Tall? Inverted buttocks? Long, thick finger? My dear sister, you may want to rethink this. As is with every premise, there are exceptions to every rule, but I am almost always right on this.
I tell you this only because I care.
Sincerely,
Your friend, Miz.
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