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It is both legit and trendy: a popular impression promoted by music, seen in the movies, making portraits on literatures, and a common observation on other media — that she’s what she is for what ‘she carries’.

Listen to music tracks or watch music performances — it’s either about her bum, her waist, or ‘that thing’.

In the movies, the sights are replete with the accepted madness of nudity and similar expressions of moral perversion.

To the fashion guys, her dress should be made as tight, as revealing, and as skimpy as possible, that their esteemed tags of ‘hot mama’ and ‘slay queen’ would accomodate, else she no sabi.

The adverts on regular websites, on the social media, on billboards, and on the TV, aren’t guiltless in any way.

Then our community of uploads, posts, shares, and tweets — them Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and the likes: by the contents pervading the social media, it is virtually impossible for some to present and relate with anything female outside the sex, sensuality enclosure.

And when a young male mind falls prey to this societal nzuzu, such a mind is keen to explore, that he becomes obsessed about it. He fantasizes about the lies he has believed about her, and consequently conceives methods to covet her.

He lustfully stares at her, his eyes are hungry. She doesn’t pass by that he doesn’t turn to give a second glare. He finds a disappointment in any who he finds to be modestly dressed. And the wild him gets nurtured, from a stare to another; he explores nzuzu and lusts for more lust.

In the lust-adventure, he graduates from ‘staring’ to ‘watching’. He discovers pornography and won’t stop at one sight. His lustful imaginations are wilder. He explores every reachable medium for a satisfying pleasure. But this satisfaction is much of a muchness some mirage — it doesn’t really come. He messes up, it makes him feel sick, yet he repeats the sequence and can’t help it. Bobo, eventually, is a slave to the mess-craze: Bobo becomes a slave to nzuzu.

***

I agree: the present, pervading pop culture, an effect of the human depraved nature, has messed things up for good morality.

It is true that these approved anomalies have deeply corrupted our default impressions about females, particularly those in their prime.

But Bobo, how about you adjust that default and see her differently?

How about you see her worth to existence — just the way God sees her? How about you see the human in her? How about you discard the wrong they’ve influenced your mind to appreciate?

How about you see beyond her waist?

***

PS: You can’t reset your default impressions about her all by yourself. You need Jesus. Only Him does it perfectly.

He changed my default and that of many; He can change yours. His blood, with which He does so, is very much available, free, and powerful.

Just open up to Him. Let Him into your heart, for full control. Trust me — Jesus didn’t fail me; Jesus won’t fail you.

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