With or without?

It all started when one woman told us how the first thing she did when she got home was take off her bra. Another woman nodded with glee: Not only bra but panties too.

The women sitting in a circle all agreed that they readily took off their bras but when it came down to panties, well that was a different story.

I cannot sleep without panties said one young woman. I would toss and turn until I got up and put them on.

Another woman said: It’s healthier to sleep without panties.

And the debate started. It soon turned out to be quickly escalating crescendo of squeals and exclamations as women turned to each other and shared their views, then repeating the same to another woman on the other side.

In summer, there is nothing like sleeping naked with cool crisp cotton sheets against your skin when possible but it’s obvious that women have differing views on this idea.  It would have been a good idea to get the opinion of the opposite sex on this matter. Or even better, to listen to what their husbands preferred.

Obviously if you have young children who like to crawl into bed with you, one should always be prepared so as not to mar their child’ s vision of the human body for life.

 

 

The fan spins half-heartedly

At first, I braved the heat. I went out at all times of the day and was oblivious to the way it scorched my skin.

The cherry tomato I bite into popped all over my fingers.

After a while, I started to manipulate the situation. I no longer woke up at first light. I stayed up late at night. But reversing day into night confuses me. Days were hazy.

I felt like a dog on a lead. Going somewhere but who knows where.

The rusk dipped into the remains of my chai with milk becomes soggy and as I lift it splatters across the table.

The heat started to make me hallucinate. Actually, it didn’t. But hallucinate is a much more dramatic word. Much more melodramatic than the mundanity of what happened. I walked around with a buzz in my head. My eyes were so puffy it was not a pleasure anymore to be awake. My feet and fingers became so bloated they literally wanted to burst out of the confines of  my skin. And oh this ennui. My throat burns no matter how much water I drink.

I despise the air conditioned air that is recycled 24 hours a day. But I also love the icy respite of a cool room, coming in from the oven-like temperatures beyond.

Celery sticks are chopped haphazardly on the small plate. Big thick sticks that will quickly lose their crispness now. Must start chewing.

I think perhaps the heat is responsible for his madness. The way he morphs into an ugly beast and pummels into me words more hurtful than the hot lighter that touched my cheek the other night, by mistake.  It must be the heat. I can’t leave him at this point in the journey. But hasn’t the journey gone on long enough? When, for the love of all sacrifices, will I be absolved?

There must be no heaven for me.

I’ve packed my bags many times before. Mentally of course. I’ve taken the bare essentials. I’ve started to pack into boxes those objects of memorabilia that no one else but me cares for. Packing away a lifetime. But it is all in the mental haze.  I never actually move and do it. It is always a comfortable thought. It carries me through.

My mug is empty. No chai, no tea leaves to foretell.

I ate the last stick of celery.

Seeking Solace

I don’t want to start off by telling you the same old clichés: that we are all going to die. That we are all going to meet the same fate. That there is no escaping that.

But I did start off by saying that, didn’t I?

Yes, we know we are all going to die some day in many different ways. Some endings are more peaceful than others. Some passings are easier to accept than others.

But no one tells you how to deal with the pain of parting.

Not many people know how to console someone who is grieving  in a way that won’t make them feel guilty or bad.

I’m not saying I am an expert at making people feel alright with their grief. But I know what I have wanted all the times that I lost loved ones so close and dear to me.

I don’t want to continue putting on a brave face after the wake is over. Losing a loved one hurts. Give me my space but please, don’t hesitate to silently hold me. Hug me and tell me it will be alright. Even if I know that the tunnel of grief looks awfully dark and bleak. Don’t be frustrated with me. Don’t walk on eggshells. Give up your night out and stay home with me, without making it seem like a favour. Spend time with me but be relaxed about it. Feed me.

If you see me crying, don’t try to stop me. Don’t quash my emotions.

Let me talk when I want. Let me be quiet when I want. A nice shoulder massage would help. An ice-pack for my eyes.

When I’m grieving, I don’t feel sexy. I want to cuddle but I am not interested in making love. I am feeling raw. I am feeling intense sadness. I need your shoulder. I need the strength of your hand coupling mine.

After the death of a loved one, family members discuss what could have been done and what should have been done. While it’s a good time to clear the air, it is definitely not a good time to lay blame on others. It hurts to hear a surviving loved one blamed for another’s death when there is no direct correlation. We always like to have matters neat and tidy and explainable. The reason for death needs to be logical. If it is not, then we seek a reason and very often we lay it on some poor  relative who is probably grieving the most for their loss.

What I am trying to say is the best way to help a person grieving is to be there, to be supportive without being overbearing or intrusive. Give the person space, but always be ready for physical reassurance should it be needed. Physical reassurance should be completely loving and generous without an expectation of anything in return especially sex. If that happens willingly, then fine. Making love can also ease the overwhelming burden of sorrow. A person grieving needs your time, your patience, and your intuitive understanding. It’s like holding their hand crossing a narrow shaky bridge. Be calm. Be nurturing. Heal with your hands and your voice.

And pray for peace of mind.

Deadly Rendezvous

It was too early when I woke up. I ambled to the sitting room and set a tall glass of water before me. The air conditioner was blowing chilled air in that particular position and I enjoyed it. Arctic conditions in 50 C + temperatures.

I switched on the TV. It is not something I normally do the first thing in the morning.

It was left on an Egyptian film channel by the last person watching the television.

An Egyptian film was already on. The title of the film was A Deadly Rendezvous. That is my own translation. Oh dear. The man had an affair with a tall, voluptuous femme fatale type, with masses of bright red hair. He had spent two days with her and now was insisting on going back to his family. The clinging manipulative bitch slit her wrist after closing the door. So of course he had to bandage her wrist and watch vigil over her the whole night as she slept.

The film was toe-curlingly ’80′s style with massive hair for the woman and broad shoulder pads. Even after her suicide attempt, when she woke up whimpering in the morning, her lipstick was bright and unmussed.

So now the good husband is riding on a massive guilt trip. He is torn between this femme fatale and his sweet loving wife and cute son who always admonishes him for smoking in a child’s presence.

My eyes are slowly starting to focus. I had headed straight from bed, to bathroom, to sitting room and sat watching the twisted movie.

Of course the red-head would not leave the husband and starts doing crazy things. He comes home to find her chatting with his wife in the sitting room. When he no longer takes her calls at the office, she starts calling him at home and in the middle of the night. All this and sweet angelic wife is blissfully ignorant and unsuspecting.

Hubby is now in an unenviable situation. We are made to see that he is really a nice guy that only made a mistake when his wife and child went away for the weekend. He tries to make it up for them by buying her jewellery and his child two cockatoos. Then he takes them out to dinner.

Meanwhile, the evil red-headed hussy has broken into their flat and goes around in a maniacal fashion.

When the family come home, they find the poor cockatoos have been cooked alive and boiling away in a pot.

Now the child is sobbing his heart out. The mother consoles him and then offers him a teddy to snuggle up to and closes the door saying good night. No post traumatic consoling.

I started to feel frustrated at this point.

Wife says aren’t you going to tell the police and guilty hubby says no. And he tells all.

Wife freaks out, as is expected. I did not watch that scene. When I came back, I saw that red-headed femme fatale had picked up little son from school and had taken him on a Nile boat ride. Meanwhile the now estranged parents are frantic. The mother gets into  a minor car accident.

Ho Hum. Red-head brings son back home after lots of hugging and kissing. Very twisted.

So that night, wifey is recovering at home. Hubby is sitting on the couch with son’s head on his lap sleeping. The hand that is encircling his son’s head is holding a cigarette which he smokes very realistically. Was there no second-hand smoke awareness in the ’80′s?

Wifey comes out, takes  kid to bed. He is still wearing his sneakers. Hubby smokes and puts on some headphones while listening to a cassette of classical music. He needs to de-stress.

Meanwhile, the red-headed killer is waiting in the master bedroom for the wife. A physical assault ensues and although she screams, hubby cannot hear because of the headphones. Just when we think all hope is lost, he removes his headphones in dejection only to hear the piercing screams of his wife in the bedroom.

In the fight that follows, the wife digs out some spray that renders attackers unconscious. As the red-head lies on their bed, they call the police and medical team and she is escorted away, red lips still pouting, swinging in her high heels. Meanwhile, parents console the sobbing child who is still wearing his sneakers, and tell him to go to bed and close his door. Then they go to their room and close their door.

I was so disturbed thinking about the trauma that poor child must have gone through.

The morale of the story is that men do make mistakes but they should be forgiven because bad women mislead them. Wives you should stand by your man in thick and thin. And men, beware, that one night stand could land you in the arms of a loony woman.

Smile, You’re Beautiful

These polls were inspired by this post on celebrity smiles.

the traveler

Before screening the film The Traveler (2009) to the general public in Egypt on July 13th, the censors have requested that a love scene between Khaled al-Nabawy and actress Cyrine Abdel Nour be cut as well as a breastfeeding scene. (LINK)

 

 

 

 

given

your lips

flutter

like the wings

of a butterfly

delicately

parted

nudging

searching for

what you

desire.

Just take.

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Let’s exchange sweaty t-shirts

Isn’t that just sexy? Swapping sweaty tops with a  female soccer player?

It appears the German fan didn’t expect her to take off her top at the beginning, the way he crumpled his t-shirt up. But she was a very good sport.

 

Should we keep animals as pets?

Welcome to July.

Lets start off with an endearing clip of  lovely husky saying I love you:

Recently in the news, the city of San Francisco has made a move to ban the sale of pets as it is considered inhumane.

Quite frankly, I wish that kind of law would be pushed for here in Kuwait.

Taking care of a pet takes a lot of hard work and dedication and it is a lifetime job, not only until it grows up. In addition, most pets can’t tolerate the extreme heat of Kuwait summers and keeping them outside is cruel especially for breeds that are used to colder climates and those who have long hair.

Most Kuwaitis will not keep a dog in the house because it is “unclean” and for many people even keeping it outside  in the “hosh” area is believed by many to be undesirable for religious reasons. So many Kuwaiti dog owners resort to keeping dogs in the chalets by the seaside or on their desert farms.  That way they can enjoy the company of the dogs but have them far from the home where they live.

Long-haired breeds of cats are usually given the lion-cut where their fur is shaved off to keep them cool in the summer. It does seem to me somewhat undignified to have a beautiful long-haired feline stripped of its crowning glory. Such breeds should be kept where they belong in countries where the weather is mild during the summer and cold during the winter.  There are so many feral cats now that have interbred with long-haired breeds that some of  the cats in the neighborhood have acquired an exotic look.

I’m not entirely against keeping animals as pets. Having a pet can be a rewarding and wonderful experience for people. I’m just for more regulations to protect animals from people who are irresponsible and who haven’t the most basic idea about caring for a pet.