Ever since I was little,
I’ve always had “bad” hair.
It truly is bad hair.
It’s not curly.
It’s thin at the front,
And short and frizzy.

But I remember the way the hairdresser looked at my hair when I took off the hijab in front of her.
She was surprised it was curly.
She would make fun of my hair to the other people in the salon.
I think she used to hurt me on purpose when she was straightening it.
body image, hair, bullying, beauty standards

I was small in size from childhood up until I went to college.
My brother was a bit like me.
He is a year older than me.
His body started to change around puberty,
But mine didn’t.
My sister is 8 years younger than me.
They were both chubby,
And I was skinny.

I just stood in my place, nailed to the floor.
My mom started telling me, "Dance, don't be as stiff as wood!"

When I was little
My mother told me that a girl’s private parts are called a box of pearls
When I got older and we learned about reproduction
I asked my mother
and she told me the same thing that our teacher Mr. Mahmoud told me

My hair is curly. But my mother and relatives aren’t convinced.
“Are you going out with your hair all messy like that?” my mother would always tell me on my way out.
“Won’t you do something about your hair?” she’d tell me on our way to family gatherings.
“Don’t come with me if you won’t straighten your hair.”
body image, hair, bullying, beauty standards

Until I was sixteen years old, I didn’t know exactly what made boys and girls different.
I hadn’t lived a sheltered life or anything, so I don’t know why I was ignorant about this.
In what felt like an instant, I became surrounded by teenage friends whose jokes were always sexual in nature.

The first memory I have of my appearance is from when I was 5 or 6 years old, or younger.
I was wearing a bathing suit and standing at the entrance of the club’s gymnasium, refusing to enter.

I used to straighten my hair all the time.
I was in a relationship, but we broke up.
After the break up, I decided to embrace my natural hair.
My ex-boyfriend and I got back together.
I straightened it twice for him.
I once told him I was going to wear my natural hair that day.
“What?! You’re going to go out looking like that?!” he exclaimed.
body image, hair, beauty standards, romantic relationships, marriage

I found out two years ago by pure chance that I had a tumor in my uterus.
“The position of the tumor is critical and we might have to remove the uterus,” the doctor said.
I was terrified.
It wasn’t that I was worried it would stop me from getting married.