messy life, messier hair

So I go down to the basement, which is well-lit and finished and indeed there are more pepsi but also in the fridge is a massive tortise. This animal was the dimensions of a desktop computer and probably outweighed a labrador. It’s not moving, and is set in the middle of a plastic tray so it’s apparently supposed to be there. I go back upstairs.

“Hey Andrew.” I say, nonchalantly. “So is the tortise in the fridge down there for soup or what?”

“The what?” says the other member of the group project. I don’t remember her name, just that she always wore her hair in pigtails with butterfly clips that were based on real butterflies and she had at least a dozen species.

“Oh! No, that’s Andrew Too.” he says. “His species hibernates so he stays in the fridge for the holidays.”

“You named your tortise after you?” I ask.

“No, uh- Well, my grandfather got him in Egypt or somewhere while he was on leave during the war and He was named Andrew, so he thought it would be funny to name him ‘Andrew Too’. …Then Mom named me after him so Gandpa left me Andrew Too in his will. He’s pretty cool when he’s awake. Lets us dress him up for summer holidays, doesn’t bark.”

“Oh!” Said Butterflies. “My dad served in the Gulf War too! What unit was he in?”

Tears fill my eyes as I read the words on my screen. The world seems to stop spinning for the slightest second as I re-read the anonymous message over and over again, gripping on to the hope that the words will magically disappear. But they didn’t. Anon had done it; they’d figured out that the only way to make me take off my hijab was to call my hair ugly. My one weakness.

A tear streams down my left cheek.

Eight years of academy hijab training…wasted. I had to prove this extremely relevant and good-looking anonymous person wrong, I cared too much about what they thought. How could I live my life knowing that there is one person out there who thinks probably my hair is ugly maybe? How could I look myself in the mirror? How could I face my family? My shoulders shook as I cried silently, and my chair squeaked ever so slightly at the vibrations; as if it, too, was crying in sorrow.

It wasn’t until that moment that the second part of the message dawned on me… how would I prove them wrong without breaking the rules? Was it really against the rules? I reach into my hijab and pull out a scroll. At the very top, in cursive jet-black inked letters, the word ‘Rules’ stares back at me. My heart is racing as my eyes frantically read the scroll.

‘Rule #1: no killing people,’ it reads. I let out a whimper. There go my evening plans. 

Suddenly, my eye catches the next words. The scroll is rustling in my trembling hands as I turn my face away, tears spraying out of my eyes like the spit of a white person as they try to justify racism. The cursive words felt more like a curse of words, vivid and refusing to disappear as if I were still staring at them even through my closed eyes.

It’s a breezy summer day and the rustling from the leaves outside sound like whispers from my small apartment. I’m sitting in front of my laptop, silently studying the 1.6 billion faces speaking simultaneously in front of me. It’s Monday, the day of the weekly conference call between all Muslims. We have been required to attend this Skype meeting from the the tender age of fetus, but I had never spoken in one of them before. 

That changes today. 

“Hey guys, what if…” I start to say. 

Nobody hears me, but I refuse to be silent. How could I show my face again on Tumblr if I couldn’t even save my mayonnaise friends from death? How could I expect to earn their respect? Anon was right; why hadn’t I done this before? Thousands of lives had paid the price for my ignorance, but not anymore.

“What if you guys….. stopped killing people.“ 

Suddenly, silence. 

1,643,398,023 pairs of eyes are on me. My heart is in my throat as the ISIS leader gives me a blank expression. 

A single tear rolls down my cheek. "Please.” I say with a broken voice. 

He is moved. 

My fingers are almost shaking as I carefully type in the ten digit phone number I have had memorized my entire life. The buttons on my home phone seem to glow a bit more dull, and even the ringing of the phone from the other end seems to be agonized, almost as if the world is telling me to hang up. But I refuse to give up; I can’t let my lily-white friends down. Not again.

The phone rings once. Twice. Three times. Still no answer. Just as I am about to hang up, there is a click.

All I can hear is heavy breathing.

“Hello….” I say quietly, my voice shaking. “Is….. Is this Muslim?”

There was a long silence before I heard a voice answer “ya lol.”

“I was thinking………..” I begin cautiously. “Maybe murder is…………bad.”

“Habibi, I…..I don’t understand. What are you trying to say….?” The voice seems shaken.

“What if…….world peace is good and killing people is…………not good”

He lets out an audible gasp. “Are you saying ISIS is…….bad?”

“Maybe death is…….not good.” I continue. My heart is racing. I remind myself that I am saving thousands of lives, and inhale.

The silence from the other end of the line is almost deafening. He seemed to be thinking, as if he had never considered this idea before in his life. Truly I had opened his heart and his mind. This…. This could end terrorism.

“Muslim….Please.” I whisper.

I hear a tear roll down his cheek, with my Muslim Communication Hearing™, and hold my breath as he finally breathes out his next words.

A tiktok-video of Sarah Williams @/nutritionalsarah - who stands in front of a mirror a phone in her hand. 

CC: My thoughts on nutrition trends as a dietetic student/intern.

Starting off big: Keto was created for epileptic children. Carbs are not bad for you; they’re actually the preferred fuel source for the body.

Drinking lemon water in the morning will not boost your metabolism. Taking Apple Cider Vinegar shots in the morning is gross and does nothing for you.

The terminology of „clean eating“ is silly. The only time you should be clean eating is when there is dirt on your food.

1,200 calories is the amount a toddler needs and/or a 98 year old bed-ridden patient. If you have working liver and kidneys, you don’t need to do a detox. All those cleanses do is make you poop yourself.

Consistently eating under your Basal Metabolic Rate will lower your metabolism. Juice cleanses are just…no. Dietary fat does not make you fat. It’s an excess of calories that contribute to adipose tissue.

Sweet potatoes are not healthier that white potatoes. They just both have different micronutrient profiles. Skinny does not automatically equal healthy. Eating after 8pm will not make you fat.

Drink your water, get your sleep, eat your fruits and veggies and forget about the rest.