Welcome To Expired N Fabulous!


For anyone who has followed my blog 51 Fridays, you all know that my father went on a mission to get me married before I reached my marriage expiration date–twenty-five. This is the age Arabs have labeled as “The Day It All Ends” for women. An un-married woman in our culture is looked at worse than a serial killer. Of course, I expired while my father was still alive, which pissed him off beyond belief. Expired N Fabulous follows my journey to find Mr. Right , while taking matters into my own hands, because my family has yet to find any man I’d want to marry. Instead, it’s men they find agreeable and I don’t.

Of course this consistent attempt to marry me off to men of their choosing is exactly the reason I am now expired and un-married. But, not once have I ever been asked what I’m looking for in a man. My family has always taken the lead on the subject, but not anymore. With my father’s family gone (for the time being), I’m going to attempt to find the man I’m interested in marrying all on my own before they return to Chicago and hijack my love life.

So here I am: twenty-seven years old, un-married, still single, and not exactly ready to mingle. I am looking for love, but the probability of that happening now that I am officially BEYOND my expiration date is highly unlikely. It won’t be easy, especially since I’ve depended on my father, uncles, aunt, cousins, hell even the guy who bags my groceries at the corner store, to find a husband for me. But, I’m willing to take the chance if it means falling in love the way that Jane Austen characters do. I’m looking for true love, the sparkle, if it still exists, which I’m sure that it does. And what’s a marriage without sparkle.

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My mom was in need of some new hijabs and so, of course, we headed to Al-Afifa Islamic Fashion where the selection is huge and the prices affordable. Now, although the hijab style my mom shops for is pretty basic, it normally takes her about thirty minutes to decide on the colors and the style that would work best with her face shape. I mean she’s worse than me when it comes to high heels. OK…maybe not. As she finally came to a decision on eight hijabs, we walked over to the cash register. As the young lady took my mother’s credit card, I could hear an obvious female ‘boater’ behind me.

A boater is a man or woman straight off the boat. Usually has a very thick accent, wears Arab sandals everywhere, and believes that a woman is ready for marriage at seventeen.

The woman’s English was awful; I mean she could barely get a few words out, the syntax was just plain wrong and she could not get through the conversation without stumbling over every third word. I felt uneasy and thought it would be easier all around if she just spoke Arabic to get her point across, Continue reading

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