Gone are the days of being young and carefree, of cute birthday parties and the ability to get away with putting the exact number of candles on the birthday cake. This month I bid farewell to celebrating my birthday because when I saw the cake with exactly 26 candles on it, a sudden fear took over that it might end up burning down the house. Woe is me as I make my way into the next age bracket on government papers and find myself faced with a tantamount of pressures that I had no idea existed in the first place. A month into this new age and I already miss the last one so much.
Suddenly I'm being greeting with big beady eyed aunties who are wondering why I haven't yet met Mr. Ring-On-My-Finger; and when I meet their inquiries with a shoulder shrug or some form of diplomatic answer they press on asking if I need help with this issue. When did this become an issue and what king of help would I possibly need and what kind of reaction is that? This awkward moment becomes amplified when one of my friends walks in with both baby and husband in arm and said aunty proceeds to tell me how she met her man and had her baby. Oh aunty if only you knew how wrong your version of their story is and this situation is more uncomfortable than the stiletto heels I'm wearing! I'm finally free when aunty is summoned by her friend but as soon as I breathe a sigh of relief I'm faced with another aunty and her son, who I already know, that want to say hi to me. Awkward greetings are exchanged while I'm thinking: yes I already met him, no we aren't perfect for each other, please stop telling me about how much of a good student he is, and don't you dare call mom over... thank you for calling mom over... Great!
Anyway back to my fun and games, I'm your average arab chick living in Montreal and originally from beneath the pyramids of Giza. I live in the suburbs with my parents and have two big brothers to which I owe my awesome basketball skills (NOT!). While I was attempting to fall asleep I thought of the idea of writing the trials and tribulations of an arab chick maneuvering her way through the western world with of course my own twist on the different situations; introducing Diary of an Arab Chick.
The events portrayed are all factual events that happen to any given arab chick but the portrayal is personal to me. While they are factual, I am seeking your reading pleasure and so some events may be slightly exaggerated for kicks and giggles but all remain within a factual frame: this is a satire of real life events guys.
Enjoy your walk in my shoes :)