Our beautiful vaginas


I’m in Westy getting waxed. I’m getting a Hollywood bikini and armpits wax. Oh, plus an eyebrow tweeze and a pedicure. I don’t know about you but I get awfully turned on when the hairs in my girl parts have been lathered in warm melted sugary wax and stripped from their roots. That prickly pain is an aphrodisiac.

This beauty salon I’m at right now is a fancy salon. I know it’s fancy because they don’t stock local magazines. I asked them for True Love and they told me they only have GQ, Vogue and Tatler. And they’re all in the latest editions. This isn’t one of those salons where a tattered copy of a 1993 Parents magazine has it’s few remaining pages hanging by its spine. Like at my gynae’s.

You should see the teapot they bring our teas and hot chocolate in. Cast iron teapots which look like chalices that’s pour out the ancient secrets of youth and wisdom.

Anyway, the beauty therapist’s name is Elizabeth. She’s mature and guileless and calls everyone ‘Darlin’’ and talks a lot. Elizabeth’s persona reminds me on my own mother, who also happens to be called Elizabeth. And talks a lot. Hang on, even my sister-in-law’s government name is Elizabeth and she talks and talks and talks. You could be hanging in the living room and you excuse yourself to go take a wee. She won’t take the hint. She’ll follow you to the bathroom and keep talking into the door. Hehhe. You could fling yourself out the window and she’d never know. But we love her. And sometimes want to be as life-of-the party as she is. She shows up no matter what. Plus she’s the cool aunt. Always has a plan to get the little one off my hands.

It must be a thing, though. I’m sure you also know a Liz who doesn’t know when to stop talking. You could put a sack over their head and you’ll still see their mouths moving and muffled words coming through the sack.

People who talk a lot fascinate me. Mostly because I don’t talk that much. I’m a listener and laugher, and at some point of the evening, my words run out. It’s then that I’ll stare at the folks whose words never run out. The Liz’s of this world, I’m a bit envious of them, to tell you the truth. I stare at them as if I’m staring at a hamster tireless on its wheel, wondering when it’s going to stop.

I suppose Elizabeth talks a lot to ease off the awkwardness of the Hollywood wax. Because it’s an awkward and intimate process. And the Enya and peppermint wafting in the background does little to allay it.

I mean, there you are lying half-naked on the salon bed and she’s parting your thighs and your lips – your labia majora, ahem – to wax your Amazon to a Sahara. She’s finishes it down to your skin and wipes you down with large swaps of dampened cotton wool. She then asks you to lie on your stomach, and relax and part your butt cheeks so she can get into your, uhm, rifted valley. This one is usually a toughee because you have to make sure not to let some loose air out. Because it’s going to leave in an embarrassing hissing sound. Like something of a gas leak. And surely you know how lethal these gas leak farts are.

When she’s done with your rifted valley, she’ll ask you to take off your blouse for the armpits wax. Only then do you realise you’re stripped down to only your bra.

Elizabeth today is telling me about her husband and his girlfriends. There was a time she told me about her five kids and in-laws. Another time I prodded her about her almost-20 year career as a beauty therapist. Another time, during Elections, we talked about Uhunye and Raila. On the weekend before I got married, she told me about how folk of her hometown Busia paint a suburban wedding. And how her wedding night went down. Early this year she told me about how beautiful our vaginas are, their form and bone structure. It was poetic how she talked about it.

Our conversations always leave me spongy.

Today Elizabeth tells me, “Yes, he had so many girlfriends. So many! And we were still so young and the kids were small and it was those days of AIDS.” (Yeah, she says AIDS. Ha-ha.)

I ask, “You knew he had girlfriends?!”

“Of course I knew! A woman always knows when her husband has a girlfriend. Do you know what I used to do?” She’s blowing on the wax she’s just spread on my bikini line.


Elizabeth says, “I used to invite them to my house, and sit with them in the living room and serve them tea. Yes, they’d always come – and they knew I was his wife. There was a day he came back from Mombasa and was surprised to find one of them in our house.”

I don’t know why but I want to chuckle. I don’t.

“But do you know why knowing about his girlfriends never hurt me, darlin’?”

I shake my head.

“Because I always knew I had his heart. He could sleep with as many women he wanted but I was the only woman who had his heart. Even now I still have his heart. It’s been almost 20 years married and I still have  his heart. A man only has space in his heart for one woman.”

She reaches for the cotton wool. “Please lie on your stomach, darling.”

I lie on my stomach.

“Hold them open like this…” She shows me. “That’s good, darling’. Like that. I was never hurt because I also had my own life to live – I had the children to take care of; I had my job; I had my duties in church; I had my parents at home; I had my siblings. He eventually stopped sleeping around because he realised I wasn’t bothered and didn’t care about what he was doing out there.”

Elizabeth brings me a hand mirror. I catch the reflection of my crotch and armpits, soft as baby’s bum. Beautiful, if you may.

Would now be a good time to tell her about the ugly shaving pimple I once got near my pee hole, the one before I started waxing, the one that came with a razor from shaving at home in the shower?

I think not. I really don’t think anyone should be subjected to such intimate details (oh, please).

It’s as worse as imagining a hissing fart from a lady like you.

Happy hour

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Florence Bett-Kinyatti


Columnist Saturday Nation Writer Craft It Author of best-selling ‘SHOULD I?’ and ‘HOW MUCH?’ ~ Guiding word: Overdrive Subscribe to our Newsletter👇🏾 eepurl.com/igmN8P
  • Dear God, 
It’s me again.

I don’t pray as often as I need to, You know that. I don’t kneel by my bed in child-like humility, as Muna does. I don’t whisper a prayer in the morning. Or at noon. Perhaps just in the evening. 

This going-to-church habit is a constant false start. So is reading the Word. 

I’m often guilty but I also know: You and I have a language only we can understand. 

I speak to You through this gift You bestowed upon my Kale shoulders, this gift to write in colour. It’s a gift that sometimes feels like a curse, a burden I have no choice but to pursue. 

Yet other times – most times, actually – it’s the very breath of my essence. Everyday I sit to write, when the words flow from my head and heart through my fingers to the page, I feel You next to me. 

You are here, Lord. Hovering. Lingering. Swooshing about in Your regal robes, like a character from Bridgerton.

Sometimes You get so close I can feel You breathing on my neck and I’m like, ‘Err, God, do You mind, personal space?’

And You chuckle uncomfortably. ‘He-he, of course. Of course.’

I’m here to tell You, Thanks!

I hosted my first in-person event last March, Lord, thank You to all the lovely ladies who granted me their time and full attention. 

I’ve carried them in my heart since and every day, my prayer is that You bring them closer to the life of abundance they each seek. To their own version of wealth. 

I always call them by their name: Becky. Purity. Lindsay. Wangui. Naomi. Shiqow. Mercy. Liz. Winnie. Polly. Nduta. Lynet. 

And Mike. 

Dear Lord, I’m prepping for my next in-person event in June, Inshallah. 

Walk with me as I get there. 

Love always,

  • Highlights from our first-ever in person event hosted by Craft It and @financialfitbit 
Thanks to all the lovely ladies — and gent, hehe — who honoured us with the privilege of their time and attention. And colourful energy. It’s been weeks since and it’s only now that I’m coming down from the high. 

Thank YOU!

🎥 @mikemuthaka 

#craftit #author #MakeYourMoneyMatter #personalfinance #money
  • I am a woman.

I’m strong. I’m brilliant. I’m like a comet shooting across the sky, I’m so bright you have to put on shades to see me.

I’m almost 40, I’m almost fully realising myself as a woman and the power of womanhood I possess.

I’m so powerful that if KPLC connected me to the national grid, I’d power up this country and we’d never have another blackout.

Ho! Ho! Ho!


To recognize and celebrate International Women’s Day today, I’d like to recognize and celebrate eight women.

I have eight things to give away to each of these women:
a) Two tickets to my upcoming event on March 18 with @financialfitbit Theme is ‘Make your money matter’
b) Three autographed copies of my book ‘Should I?’
c) Three autographed copies of my other book ‘How Much?’

To participate:
1. Like this post
2. Tag women who deserve a win of either event ticket or book (tag as many women as you like)
3. Tell us what you’d like her to win and why she deserves the win
4. Make sure your tagged women follow @_craftit and @financialfitbit 

Here are the rules for the giveaway:
— One woman, one win
— Winners will be contacted via DM
— Giveaway closes at the end of this week, Inshallah, on Sunday 12 March
— Only open to people living in Kenya

All the best!

(Swipe right to see the women I’m celebrating.)

#craftit #internationalwomensday
  • My 2022 word of the year was Wholesome. 

Wholesome meant engaging in moderation and in pursuits that didn’t leave me feeling yucky.

An example: there’re weekend nights I’d go out then have too much to drink. On the drive home, I’d tell GB to stop the car every half mile so I could throw up on the side of the road. Then I’d take three working days recovering. 


No more of that nonsense.

Now I have only two doubles of Singleton whiskey and chase it with water. I eat less food and I eat better. I take my supplements. I treat myself to an early bedtime and arise with my body clock, no alarm.

I spend a lot more time hanging with my kids, Muna and Njeeh. 

I buy fewer things. 

I play the piano. 

I created a disciplined routine for my work and take Thursdays off. 

You catch my drift…

Wholesome has become my lifestyle. 

(By the way, I was asked, ‘Where does this word-of-the-year come from, Bett?’ I don’t know about other people but for me, the words present themselves when I’m journaling. My spirit tells me what it needs; I must be still enough to listen and brave enough to obey.)

My word for 2023 is Overdrive.

My two books have unlocked new opportunities for me as a writer and creative. As an urban brand. I’d honestly not foreseen them. 

I know that if I adjust my sails to where the wind is blowing, these opportunities will translate to wealth.

Last Friday, I listed all the work I’m already doing and all the new opportunities – potential and realised – knocking at my door.

I asked myself, ‘What am I taking up here and what am I dropping?’

The response, ‘None – we go into overdrive and smartly pursue them all.’

#craftit #urbanguide
  • Years ago, my best friend said to me, ‘Bett, we’re almost 40 – forget makeup, let’s take care of our skin instead.’

I had to laugh because this was coming from Terry. Terry my Kisii pal, this fine gyal with skin the colour of honey, the only practising SDA in my circle. 

Terry had spent her 20s and early 30s sleek with Arimis. That’s right, the milking jelly with a lactating cow on its logo. 

Arimis addressed all her skin pickles back then. It was her problem fixer. Her Olivia Pope. It’s the one thing that always said, It’s handled.

Now here she was preaching to us about a consistent skincare regimen in the AM and PM.


It wasn’t until Terry shared her selfies on our girls WhatsApp group that I stopped laughing. It wasn’t until we stood next her – and took these selfies – that I reeally stopped laughing: Terry’s skin was youthful and toned, plump. Hydrated. Moistured but not shiny. 

It looked like it had been kissed by the Greek goddess of radiance. 

So we gathered around her feet and said, ‘Forgive us, master. We are ready now. Teach us everything you know.’

She did. 

Terry and I now spend plenty of time before work and before bed squeezing out little portions of expensive skincare products from expensive tubes, we layer them on our face in a calculated measure.

This serum here is for the circles under my eyes and the fine lines around my mouth.

Turns out I’ve been giving away too much of my face: I’ve been looking too hard, laughing too easily.

I’ll have to spend the next year into my 40s with my eyes half shut and laughing little. I'll have a resting bitch face.

Don’t blame me, blame the retinol.

And age.

#craftit #urbanguide #urbangirl
  • I’m Bett. I’m the author of your favourite books about money. I’m hosting an in-person event in March, Inshallah: This is my personal invite to you.

#craftit #moneymaker #moneyinkenya
  • I am hosting my first money event this March, Inhsallah. It’s the first of quarterly events I have planned for the year. 

(Give me a moment here so I pull myself together long enough to write this. I’m smiling very hard right now, ha-ha, I look like a donkey.)


The event will be in-person. On a Saturday morning, a loose three hours which, I am certain, you’d have burned on some other pursuit you couldn’t account for later. (I’d probably be oiling the hinges of a squeaky door or decluttering my sock drawer.)

My guest host for this edition is Lynet Kyalo. 

Lynet is a personal finance coach under her brand @financialfitbit She also hosts @getyourbagrightpodcast 

Buy your tickets from our Market.

Early bird tickets are discounted until the end of this month.

Limited slots available. 

#craftit #millenialmoney #moneyevent #moneymaker
  • Sometimes I sit down and read my own book. 

Odd, huh?

Reading my own stories is like an out-of-body experience. Or getting introduced to myself again. An outward journey inward.

It’s fascinating.

I also read because I need to improve my writing for my next project.

We call them the Elements of Craft: things like sentence structure and punctuation, word placement, story length etc, they all inform your reading experience.

This is what makes the book easy to read, and has you turning the pages.

Cop your autographed copy and #betteryourmoney 

#craftit #howmuch #millenialmoney #moneymaker

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