Oh Happy Day

EID MUBARAK! 

to those who celebrate. To those who don't, whaddup? I think I said that last time, but whatever. And I think we may be ahead for time - I always hear people say 'it's tomorrow in Australia', so maybe this is early for you guys. But yeah, be happy, have a wonderful day.

Admittedly, it started off awfully. As usual, it was my mother v. moi on clothes. Because of our financial crisis, there was no Eid shopping for new clothes, and we had to improvise. I'm all for old comfy casual. My mother wanted me to dress up in the traditional gear with colours so bright it would be blinding.

I hate it.

I wanted to wear my abaya, but my mother said it was old, and people would talk. 'Sif I care if people talked. But my sister had this brilliant idea to wear one of my mother's, and I was like, yeah, okay, me too. Now, my sister is pretty. I try not to tell her too often, 'cause she has a big head, but she is. She could pass off for Arab, or Afghan. I couldn't. I'm not attractive, and... while everything can be made to look good on my sister, there are some things that just don't go with me. Like: bright colours.

Okay, back track to l'abaya. So I agreed to wearing one of my mother's, and I asked my sister to pick one out, 'cause I didn't know which one. Mine are all that soft black material, but my mother's are this thick kind, in different colours - like dark blue and stuff. So I trusted my sister to pick one. She did. Then it came to the headscarf. 

My sister says that because I don't wear makeup or much jewelry, I have to compensate for my mother's sake by wearing something bright. She says this is the reason why my mother likes to have me imitate the teletubbies. So for this abaya she picked out - black - I have to wear a bright scarf.

I had a bad feeling, but I'm like, okay. She gets out this purple one. It's pretty nice, but I just know it won't go with me. But my sister's like: 'Ugh, please, you're so fussy. I'll put it on for you.'

So I agree.

It was all WRONG. It was a massive shawl shape - I'm used to squares, or sometimes smaller shawls, but not LARGE ones. And it was this stretchyish material, so I couldn't have a peak, and with the shape of my head, I need  a peak. But me, I trusted my fashionista sister. 

I should not have. She didn't do it, in the end, and because my dad was paranoid we'd be late, she told my mother to do it. My mother is just as beautiful, so anything looks good on her. She put her scarf style on me, and it looked hideous. As if I'm not tubby already, now I just looked like an oversized grandma. The abaya was too big and thick, and it had shoulder pads. I hate shoulder pads. HFLAKJDHFADF.

But I pulled myself together, thought I'd be okay. It was not okay. I felt like the ugliest girl in the world. Everyone at the Eid prayer in the Uni basketball stadium looked lovely. Graceful, elegant. Some of the in rich outfits, others in really simple (and my mother can compliment them for it, but if I imitate that style it's like NOOO YOU LOOK LIKE A BEGGAR!). Their hijabs were neat, flowy, pretty. And there was dumpy, lumpy, ugly me. No exaggerations. At all. And my hijab was falling apart and I wanted to cry. Actually at our community breakfast, I did cry, but I managed to make it look like I had something in my eyes. And my dear Cow Girl friend was there, and she just made me feel better without realising. She's just so funny and sweet and I missed her dearly :')

And then there were the cookies. My sister made cookies. I had a feast afterwards. By God, it feels great to eat in the day again.

That's the only thing I'm looking forward to in growing up, though. I want to pick my own outfits. I want to wear abayas and maxi-dresses and short dresses with jeans and skirts and all that jazz almost everywhere, and I don't want to look like a frilly mutant from Sesame Street. I want dark colours, and I don't want to be decked top to toe in glitter and sequins. I know I'm not the prettiest in the world, and I don't mind, really, but when I know I can look better and feel more comfortable, why can't I take that option? So yeah, mummy dear, I won't miss your wardrobe choices.

On a brighter note, d'you guys - for whose been here that long - remember the cake from last time? Well guess what?! I have TWO more to show you. And guess what even more?! Does that even make sense? Who cares! 

WE MADE THE CAKES.

Did I tell you my sister takes icing classes with our old neighbour (i.e. lady that made the cake from last time) and I was envious? Well, my sister has been strutting her stuff, and she got two orders. Being Curry, they handed those orders in late, so it didn't turn out as well as it could have. Being a money hungry moron, my sister didn't want to turn them down.

So she enlisted (i.e. forced) my help, and we made two superawesomeokayfineamateur cakes. Granted, we didn't get to eat them, but whatever.

I'm going to show you the ugly one first, because it's made of superheroes. The lady told us Spiderman, and then she told us to add Ben 10 and Batman. After we worked out the colour scheme and everything. It looked ugly, I hated it, I'm going to kill any superheroes I see any time soon, so beware:

I did le web and les letters :) My sister did everything else (the superheroes are on edible paper....). Please remember we're (particularly I) amateurs. My sister's only been to less than ten classes, and me: none.

And now for the prettier one that to me is awesome, but maybe that's just my pride blinding me...

Heh heh heh. I did the fondant flowers and the letters, again, and my sister did all the buttercream. Clearly in the second picture you can see how... unpolished I am, but still. So whatchu think? If you're worried about all the colour, note that both cakes were for kids' families, who were throwing kidsy parties.

Other than the never-ending clothes wars with my mother, Eid is such a beautiful event. Particularly this year, where I think most communities were on the same day. There's something about having a few dozen communities crammed into the one hall, the throaty thrum of the takbeer being called out in unison, filling every inch of the stadium. The hugs and kisses, the little kids and babies in adorable new outfits. How generously the adults share out lollies and stuff. 

... yeah.

That is all. Have a wonderful day, may it be filled with cookies and cake, love and laughter, and trouble and turmoil to pick yourself out of for some triumph. Don't worry, be happy ^^

ATM:

Writing: Still that Girl. Surprise surprise, based off Britt Nicole's song, it's a shorty long :)

Reading: Collected Stories. Peter Carey. Haven't had time, and can't find the motivation. It's awful.

Listening to: Stand. Britt Nicole.

Feeling: Nostalgic. I miss my family :/

When I feel like giving up,

When the heart has hurt too much,

Feels like I've reached the end

No I won't turn and run,

This battle will be won

So I stand, stand, stand....

Peace in,

Laila