The Girl With No Face

With only RedBull, Cigarettes and my thoughts filling up my days, I am trying to figure out who I am…

Until I do.. this blog is on pause…

I can’t help it! and its prolly from lack of sleep. Lack of sleep or lack of affection. Lack of sleep or lack of companion. Lack of sleep Or lack of understanding.

I don’t care anymore. I don’t care for those that just wish to point out whats wrong with me after they helped cause it.

I think I can afford having the lap-band surgery. I will do it and I don’t give two shits if anyone doesn’t want me to do it. Not my parents. not my friends.

I’m feeling the discomfort in my movement again. I feel the tightness of my pants. I see my belly growing. I see my self esteem wasting away again. And yet, I still can’t seem to stop eating. I can’t find the off switch.

Lap-band. Definitely Lap-Band. its obviously my only solution. I have to do it myself. I can’t think of anyone else because, you know what? I can never depend on people for anything. not in support and certain not in saying the right things to me. Everyone just makes things worse. So i gotta do this on my own. And since i can’t really.. I’ll just have to force my body to succumb. 

You know why I’ve given up? It’s cuz I’ve given up on the idea of being loved for what I am. I’ve given up that one day someone will love me for me. I have to mold into the ideal woman. The ‘ideal’ woman that has no fat on her body and has no hips. the ideal woman that dresses like everyone else and has long straight hair. the ideal woman that doesn’t burp or fart or do number 1 and 2 in the bathroom. the ideal woman thats obliging and never really gets anywhere in the world. I have to mold myself into something that is not me, something that I really hate.. just so that I can be loved. otherwise, nobody will love me.

Shakira knows what I’m talking about 

.. All I can think about is what June once said to me:

“enough with the guilt already… because its gay” hahahahaha

you see, I can’t really talk about why I’m feeling guilty. but I can talk about everything else.

I discovered that I’m not the person I thought I was. I discovered that there’s something terribly wrong with me. Even when I spend years and years trying to change myself and my way of thinking, there are certain things that are just basically engraved in me that I can’t quite get rid of. dammit. I have nothing to say.

loneliness is killing me.

Today, I was busy with Lunatichica, trying to get her room in order for the unveiling of her brand new Mac Pro. It was all fun, I met her best friend, we ate, we smoked. But when it was time to leave, I felt pain. It made me sad and lonely. Cannonball was on when i left, and It just made me lonelier. lonelier then I’ve been in a while.

I’m lonely. Can i have that surgically removed?

My perfect world would be a gloomy one indeed. the general feel and atmosphere would be of London’s rainy weather, except your shoes would never get wet!

I love the rain. I simply, utterly and unconditionally Love the rain. It makes me happy to wake up to a cloudy sky. clouds makes the whether yummy. it makes it romantic. it also makes the lighting quite flattering.

Walking around in my perfect world, you’d see people, generally my age, jumping in puddles. I miss jumping in puddles. One must never grow out of jumping into puddles. because that, my friends, is when you lose your spark.

They’re interesting, the thoughts you have as a child. I was so confused why some people didn’t like the color red. It made me sad till I came up with a theory. I used to think that maybe, the reason people didn’t like the color red was because everybody sees things differently. I was so convinced that no one can NOT love the color red because it was so pretty that I thought that maybe, some people, when they look at what I think is red, they see green, blue or gray.

This resulted in the production of the bizarre land that is my head.

In my perfect world, everyone DOES see color’s differently, where I see red, you see blue. but in my perfect world, everybody loves red no matter how differently they see it.

FAT is not the opposite of beautiful there. In fact, beautiful will have no opposite. regardless of the fact that beauty wouldn’t exist without its contrast, Beauty then shall have no meaning in the land I call perfect.

At the snap of a finger, a seat and an ashtray appear. Smoking is not ‘wrong’ in my perfect world. there are no labels on people there. In fact, individuality in applauded.

food is delicious. food is not what makes a person fat. Evil makes people fat. the more bad things a person does, the fatter they get. And when a person lies, their tongue turns black.

June’s answer is the one I loved best when I asked everyone what their perfect world would be like.                

   “I am a fun-loving frolicking queen and I have a kick ass guy as my king. instead of currency we use kisses. everything is abundant. sitting around talking over a pint is considered legitimate work” — June

p.s. should I sell my ticket?

…

I’m going to her concert.. YES .. i DID manage to get Fairouz concert tickets. I am fabulous. haha jk .. I almost didnt.

 the most person I want to take with me to this concert is my June. She appreciates Fairouz on levels no one understands. (I’m right now listening to a song she told me to listen to and I’m falling in love with it: بعدك على بالي)

Unfortunately, Lovely June is in Lovely London. but, I promise you june! this blog as my witness, you and I WILL go to one of Fairouz’s concerts together one day!!!!!!..

My best friend A also LOVES fairouz, in fact, she’s the person who got me into that music.

but my love for Fairouz has roots deeper than that. When I was younger, Every morning my mum would play fairouz and Majda al Roumi all the way from Adleya to Isa town (where we went to school for a few years). so now, when i listen to her music (some songs more than others) I get funny carefree feelings. I feel 5 years old again and happy =D

there is no point of this post.

p.s. anyone willing to pay 400 dinars for the ticket I have, I am willing to sell (need to pay off my credit card) + I am going to see the concert again with June one day.. so I can afford to miss this one.

Enjoy the song I’m infatuated with: 

I’m kinda psychotic.. tiesto then fairouz.. damn man!! oh and June. For the record, no pressure to comment=P I know you love me.

I’m good. I’m good! i PROMISE. i just litterally FORCED my mind to think positively. It just hit me that the only loser will be me. EVERY good thing in my life is ruined by this stupid black hole. It basically eats ALL good. all good thoughts.. all good things. all good people. all gone.

now sing wid me fools..

i really really do. everything i’m doing is losing its yummyness.. i’m falling again into that viscious circle. the numbness. that black hole. everything is bland. and i just hate going home.

home is certainly NOT where the heart is. my heart doesn’t belong anywhere. its just floating there. idle. plain. still. numb. cracked. almost broken. always broken.

does that mean that my home and happiness is when I’m floating.. SHOULD I GET HIGH?

that was funny in theory. but i didn’t laugh.

I want to feel this. its perfection. the way it works, the numbness, the darkness, the sadness and agony is all simply… perfect.

the way i see it, there’s nothing better.

I feel this to the max. i savour it. i feel every last drop of it. its complete. it lasts. its perfect.

no other emotion is felt like my black hole. no other emotion lasts or lingers or is as deep or is even felt as completely as this beautiful black hole.

I am a masochist.

I miss my NeverLand, the place that makes me feel like I’m dreaming. Where I flirt and not feel guilty. where I dance the night away and still leave with dignity knowing that nobody at the party attempted to grope me.

I miss it.. I miss that place.. I’m back from the best weekend of my life with the best people I’ll ever know.. and I’ve never felt this happy or free. I miss it. I simply miss that feeling of freedom. of loving myself.

I decided that Tiesto’s music is like one GIANT ORGASM… damn!! I could feel it all over me.. it would start you slow. tease you with the beats. make you feel warm inside. sometimes cold. make you feel so many different emotions. you start to crave it.. beg for it.. then eventually and so yummyly, so suddenly, after taking a while to build up, it brings you to ONE GIGANTIC CLIMAX!!.. It was amazzzing… add to it a couple of shots of any kind of alcohol, you’ll be WEEEEEEEEAAAW..

the next day at the Santana concert, it felt SO slow!!! cuz we were used to the ‘iDsS iDsS iDsS’.. but it was more like ‘waah wah waaaaaaaaah’.

It was one fanTAbulouS weekend.. the girls I was with are AMAZING. So completely different from what I’m used to traveling with. ‘Freaks’ is how Lunatichica so honestly described them.

I found the Christian Louboutin section at a department store in a mall there but couldn’t find the *tears* shoes I’ve been craving lately. the ones I found at J’s in Bahrain but couldn’t find my size. My last hope, I emailed a shop in London HOPING that they have them. No reply yet.

Aren’t they GAWGeOUS?

p.s. the TITLE of this post is a reference to my LOVING friend who kept wanting to take a nap in the middle of the Tiesto party “two minutes, JUST two minutes. i want to rest my eyes”…………… love love love :-*

can you believe this?

how cool am I?

or better yet, Paris Cafe saved me.

all my life I’ve been extremely self destructive. I would subconsciously ruin any chance/relationship/good thing that would mean happiness for me. I think I somehow figured that I didn’t deserve it! I’d gradually become a masochist. I had no self worth or self esteem. And I blamed my mother for that…

While I was in Paris this summer, while my sisters would go on long shopping sprees, I’d go on long walks with my mother. We’d talk about anything and everything. She’d also buy me really expensive shoes haha…

Anyway, I don’t know if I ever mentioned what emotional cripples my parents and sisters are. Well, they are. They never talk when they’re upset, they never express joy or sorrow or any other emotion you can think of. They’d even yell at me when I expressed certain feelings or when I cried. Sounds evil? They’re not… They’re just the way they are.
This kind of emotional absence has resulted in so many medical issues that are all stress related. CUZ THEY KEEP SHIT INSIDE…

One day in Paris, my mum and I strolled along this beautiful road full of cafes and little shops. We spotted a cafe named “Cafe Paris”. we went in, looked for a spot by the window (windows were as big as doors and were open =) we sat ourselves down facing the little street and my mum started telling me stories about her college days and about the first time she went to Paris and how beautiful Paris is to her.

Strangely and unexpectedly, the conversation took a strange turn. We started talking about our lives, about me and my sisters. (This is where it gets corny) I’ve been trying to bring up this issue all throughout my childhood. So I tell her “I was a difficult kid, I understand why you love my sisters more than you love me, but I’d just wish you’d admit it”. Tears found their way down my face. Actually saying it out loud is much more painful than having it in my head all these years.

“Everything I do pisses you off. Your admiration for my little sister’s beauty, since she was born, is so obvious. Older sister was always perfect! And I was always wrong. Whenever you’d be angry or in a bad mood, it’s always ME you’d take it out on!!”

I have so many memories of things being SO bad that I would go to my aunt’s house and refuse to go home. I would confide in my aunt and she’d talk to my mother. It took someone to TALK to my mother to make my 7 year old life be bearable. Before the talking to, she’d be HORRIBLE to me. She’d yell at me whenever I was in sight. When she’d look at me, her face would lose its light and her expressions become an expression of disgust and she’ll look like she’s tasting something bitter. She’d criticize constantly with no mercy. I had my first suicidal thoughts when I was 10.

To be continued

p.s I’ve been trying to write this for months. since september actually. I keep writing some parts and find it hard to continue. So I’m going to do this in parts

I suppOse .. you’ve figured out that I watched “Enchanted”

If you’re cynical like my sister is, don’t watch it.. watch it with an open mind

I want this bad energy to go away.. this is why I’m listing all the things i am grateful for:

I am grateful for my Mother. I feel that she’s proud of me.

I am grateful for my Father. His face lights up when he sees me.

I am grateful for my older sister. I am happy we have our little talks. they remind me that She’s human.

I am grateful for my younger sister. I thank you for listening and talking and making me feel like I’m worth something sometimes. and thanks for helping me lose weight.

I am grateful for my friends. Aysha (my best friend and cousin now haha), Noor (my eternal optimist), Fatima (my silver lining), June (my voice of reason), May (my logical friend), Sara (my care bear), Salman (my Jacob — if you read the Twilight series, u’d know who Jacob is).

I am grateful for my job. I am saving (some) money even.

I am grateful for my health.

I am grateful for my car. A smashed windshield made me realize i was taking it for granted.

I am grateful for my shoes. My shoes make my feet pretty. and that makes me happy.

I am grateful for my limbs. I was watching Forest Gump the other day and realized that I would rather die than lose a limb.

I am grateful for my curly hair. I’m really starting to accept it. And like it.

I am grateful for Lunatichica and for our plan to go to Dubai .. it came at a great time =)

I am grateful for the theory of WonderLand. I am Wonderland. You are Wonderland. (thanks Lunatichica)

I am grateful for the good skin on my face and the red on my cheeks.

I am grateful for my diplomacy at work. I don’t think anyone hates me.

I am grateful for the catastrophe of my first boyfriend. He taught me that i should NOT rush into things.

I am grateful that I discovered “the secret”. Its changed my way of thinking. its changed my life.

I am grateful that I met June. I discovered that I am ALLOWED to be talking about myself. and you don’t mind being there listening. You’re even interested in what I’m saying. YOU make me feel human. xx

I am grateful that I have my blog. Its done a good job in keeping my sanity intact.

I am grateful that I’m on a strict diet right now. My trainer promised, 10 to 15 kilos in 6 weeks. I told him he can have 7.

I am grateful that I met my trainer. He’s changed my life.

I am grateful I’m writing this list. Helps my way of thinking=)

I am grateful that I am smart. thats why everyone calls me for help.

I am grateful that I have a pretty face. I even like the bump on my nose =)

you take them for granted these little things I crave.

I want to feel human..

I will attempt to define this term the way it translates in my head

Human Touch. 

I was watching once a girls walking with a guy, they went through a door, the guy held the door open for her, then he supported her by holding the small of her back as if he were pushing her through. Its just an excuse to touch her and to show affection. I would settle for a pat on the back.

growing up, boys fall in love with girls.

I’ve always been a fan of the roof of the house. One day, when I was 13, I was enjoying the sunset on the roof of our house when I Started hearing voices. I tracked down the side of the house where the sound was coming from. When I stood right over the balcony, I could hear that it was my 9 year old sister with the 8 year old neighbour’s boy talking. I couldnt help but eavesdrop. When i could finally figure out what they were saying, it turns out that the little neighbour’s boy was confessing his feelings of love towards my little sister. I later found out that he had also given her a love letter. cute right?

a girl getting flowers.

My Older sister once walked into her bedroom on her birthday and found 8 bouquets of flowers all around her room from 8 different people.  She was so happy and she spent the whole rest of the day with a stupid smile on her face. She must’ve felt SO loved.

being worried about and cared for when sick.

anyone at my house gets a cold, stomach flu, the flu, a wound.. whatever.. they either get the constant attention of my mother or they’d be rushed to the emergency room. except me. It never shows how sick I am when I’m sick. I think my family think I’m faking it. The only time in my memory I’d ever been rushed to the emergency room was a few weeks back when I passed out. I don’t want your pitty, I’m just telling the story.

being called pretty.

I remember one day when I was maybe 11, my little sister (7 yrs old) and I were with my mama at the Sheraton complex. I was always attracted to the smell coming out of ‘the body shop’. I mean who wasn’t? so my sister and I walked into the body shop and started looking around and smelling soaps when, all of a sudden, I hear a man’s voice behind me saying “YOu’re Gonna be a SUPER STAR”. So i turn around and this huge good looking african American man was standing there looking down at my little sister. I stand next to her and he continues “YOU”RE SO beautiful. You’re definitely going to be a super star!!”. My little sister then looks up at me standing on her right and thats when the man noticed I was there. He looks at me and I say “She’s my sister” (always the protective sister whose also fishing for compliments). He looks at my sister then back at me and says “You’re also pretty, but SHE’S going to be a SUPER STAR”

I don’t understand why I can’t ever forget these incidents. For a person who can never remember anything, I certainly hold on to the shit that brings me down. Its wrong. I mean, Yeah i get it. I couldn’t be blamed as a kid that I was jealous of my sisters growing up. But I should LET THESE THINGS GO.

I always had that Cinderella, sleeping beauty crap in my head. I always thought that ONE day, a beautiful prince charming would fall in love with me and see me as something beautiful and PERFECT. boy am I DISAPPOINTED!!

In the last few years, I’ve hated looking in the mirror. being fat and knowing how hideous I was made me feel worthless. Having beautiful people around me all the time reminding me of what I’m not made it all even worse. It would be normal if I lived in a house full of ugly people. But I don’t.

I want someone to give me that McDreamy look. or that McSteamy one. I WANT someone to stutter when they talk to me because they’re so intimidated by my beauty. I want that confidence where I can ask any person for anything and be SURE that they’ll be happy to oblige. I want to feel worth something and have everyone around me feel the same about me.

is this what they call natural selection?

P.s. Watched ‘The mirror has two faces’ last night on ShowMovies. I can relate. I wish I didn’t, but do.