Bad Combination

Niqab + Above knee-length labcoat + skin tight jeans

Unknown health care provider.. I have one question:
What message are you trying to send?

Walking down the hallway

Everyone's talking..
Each girl bubbles with energy..
It's amusing how versatile their topics are...

Leena is describing her "Henna Day" with much exaggeration.. her outfit was simply to die for, fifty guests replicated into a hundred, a local singer became Nancy Ajram...

Noor is ranting about her pessimistic mood toward this year, and the sudden responsibilty of having to deal with patients, not corpses, phantoms, or dummyheads but actual LIVING human beings...

Reem is complaining about the few extra pounds she gained since the honeymoon, although her husband has no objecion, and how is she supposed to feel about that?

I am searching frantically for the keys of my locker, stifling a giggle, glad that the uneven edges of my scarf hide my facial expressions...

As my grandma always says:
كل بهمه سرى... و أنا بهمي سريت
Each person carries his own troubles as I will carry mine


**fictional characters,, fictional conversations**

Updating my C.V.

Me: I resigned from my previous job and now I work full-time at Dentistry.

An average person: What was your last job?

Me: Life

Behind the wheel

Frustration clouded my mind...
Anger blinded my eyes...
What started as a polite "Please turn left" has now become "I told you to take that freakin' u-turn you idiot"
I know I can't blame the driver for not seeing the map in my head.. and for not understanding a language other than his native tongue..
But seriously what's a Saudi girl gotta do to get to a bookstore to buy the text book for her "Fixed Prosthodontics" class?
A fifteen minute drive has turned into an hour..
I have zoomed all Jeddah's streets except for the right one...
I have transformed from a polite well-mannered lady into a monstrous diva!

A change of scenery

First of all: roofs in Saudi houses do NOT mean slanted tiled structures on the exterior upper part of the house.. they are merely a third floor; walled but with no ceiling

Dancing on the roof top while listening to Demi Lovato..
I discovered a world I have now become to love…
So many lonely souls seek this place as a hideout.. knowing that no one will climb three flights of stairs to check on their well-being…
The teenage boy across the street leans on the wall as he inhales his cigarette deeply…
A little girl next door paints in peace on the walls with her crayons…
I sing "Solo" at the top of my lungs with the pigeons as my only audience
"I fell through the hole… down in the bottom of your soul"

My, How times flies!

She flipped through the pictures of her childhood days, each photo capturing a memory in a way her mind couldn't…

She admires her courage at the age of two trying to balance herself while taking uneven steps determined to show her parents that she can walk but as soon as they turn their heads she leans on the wall for support…

She laughs at her 4 year old face smothered in chocolate with a large bowl of what used to be a chocolate sunday on the table in front of her…

She smiles with pride as she sees her 7 year old self holding a batch of cookies with a smile revealing teeth of various sizes and eyes filled with mirth…

She stifles a giggle at her poised look at the age of thirteen wearing purple eye shadow and maroon high heels -both stolen from her mother-, her strained smile showing the pain in her ankles…

Sighing with forgetfulness at a picture taken by herself, a sixteen year old teen with a sullen look in her heavily kohl rimmed eyes holding back her bangs with long black polished nails resolving to appear nonchalant but deep inside actually caring what the world thought about her…

She gazes at herself at twenty-two posing for a group picture with her college friends her face glowing in her spotless white labcoat showing pride similar to that of her batch of cookies at seven…

She lifts her head and stares at her reflection.. tears silently streaming down her cheeks in a black river of mascara… the tip of her nose slightly pink…

Her moms enters the rooms and sees her daughter through a kaleidoscope only mothers possess..

Without even glancing at the photo album she looks at her daughter and sees more than just a bride.. she sees the four year old with sticky chocolate covered hands.. she sees the seven year old in patched up jeans.. she sees the thirteen old in her temperamental moods.. she sees the burning fire of the rebellious sixteen year old and the twenty-two year old with miles of ambition.. and finally she sees the twenty-five year old bride in her flowing white gown with her silky black hair framing her delicate features… she caresses her daughter's face blessing her brow with a kiss and without a word dries the black mascara…

No matter how long we invite Change into our lives ..it keeps postponing the visit..

And when Change finally comes knocking at your door you hesitate to answer, and a sudden realization overcomes you that you don't really want to meet this alluring visitor and you'd rather stay snug in your armchair with a steaming cup of hot chocolate reading your worn out novel…

We always invite Change into our lives but secretly we don't want the invitation fulfilled… fear is stronger than tolerance…