say I almost danced when I heard a female’s voice would be an understatement. It turned out to be a lady that was to assist me to some kind of a spa inside of the hotel that was only for women. The lady was covered literally from head to toe with black, only thickly kohl-lined, brown eyes and pale hands were showing, and nothing more.
In the spa, the lady took off the dark, er, robe? she was wearing, and underneath it she was wearing jeans and a very stylish blouse; I thought she looked really pretty. I was greeted by the one who managed the place, and the lady who gave me her name as Huda told me with her thick accent that I could get whatever I wanted. It was a nice thing for them to offer, to be honest. I got a massage and my nails done as well as my hair.
I was then brought to a table that I knew very well was for something I didn’t like to do. Ever.
“Um, I’m not going to do this,” I told Huda.
“Uh, but it’s a tradition, Miss Marie,” she said.
Tradition? What on earth? Why should the soon-to-be-sister-in-law wax? I wondered.
Weirdos!
“I’m sorry, but no, I don’t do it, and I won’t.”
Huda was really shocked by that; I didn’t know why. It looked as if she wanted to say something; however, she just smiled and nodded.
When I was done with everything, I thought it was time to put on my dress that I had bought just two days before we left. But when I told Huda, she told me that my dress was already waiting for me.
I didn’t want to sound ungrateful or anything, but I also didn’t like that someone had bought me something that I might not like. Though, I thought that maybe it had something to do with the way the bride wanted things, so I didn’t say anything.
Inside the room I was to get dressed in, I saw a very beautiful wedding dress on a hanger. It was brightly white with shining pearls and diamonds, and I assumed it was my brother’s fiancée’s. I thought she was really lucky to wear it; it was breathtaking.
“Where is my dress?” I asked.
“This one, Miss Marie.” She pointed to the wedding dress.
WHAT?
Why was I to wear a wedding dress?
“Uh, this is for me?” I asked Huda.
“Yes, Miss Marie,” she replied.
A frigging wedding dress?
“But...I...uh...I think it’s not appropriate for me to wear that.”
I mean, it’s supposed to be only the bride wearing something like that.
“Of course it is, Miss Marie. It’s a tradition.”
This word again! It was really beginning to get on my nerves. I was seriously nearing the point where I’d consider telling her that I couldn’t care less about their stupid, meaningless traditions.
But after refusing the weird request of being waxed, I didn’t feel like refusing another tradition would be nice. After all, I’ve been met by nothing but kindness since I arrived here. Fake kindness, I knew, but still…
“Okay,” I sighed.
The dress needed a little work to fit properly, since it was a little loose in the waist and chest area, but other than that, it looked and felt perfect.
Looking at myself in the mirror–I just couldn’t take it. I looked like a bride, and I didn’t like it. It wasn’t my wedding, it was my brother’s. In my opinion, it wasn’t fair for me to be wearing this; only the bride was supposed to wear something as beautiful as this.
I wanted out of the dress. And that was what I did.
As hard as she tried to hide how displeased she was, I could still see it on Huda’s face that she wasn’t happy with me refusing to keep the dress on. It just felt wrong, and I had to do it. She just had to get over it.
I wore my silver dress that was brought to me from my room as I’d requested, and only then did I feel like I was wearing something appropriate.
Looking in the mirror, it felt right.
Huda was about to say something when we heard a knock. She said something loudly in Arabic that I supposed was directing the person to come in, because that was what happened shortly thereafter. A young girl entered and smiled at me, which I returned before she spoke with Huda. The conversation went back and forth and I didn’t like the fact that I wasn’t aware of what they were talking about, but I was pretty sure