Should I have said hi? Would it have been awkward? It had been a week since that day, and I still couldn’t stop thinking about Khaled. I really wanted to go talk to him, but something put the notion that I shouldn’t bother. And low and behold, it was that same snide creature, just giving me more and more reasons to be insecure about myself.
Say hi? To a guy like him? You’d be wasting your time. He probably couldn’t bare the sight of you. Why do you think he never spoke to you back in Alexandria? Yes, it just loves to torment me. However, for some reason whenever I think of seeing Khaled, that part of my mind where that thing roams, goes quiet for a bit. It and all of my insecure and doubtful thoughts. It falls ever so silent. Long enough for me to actually reminisce in the memory of him. Thinking back to that short but sweet moment.
Wait, what am I doing? I only just saw the guy across the street! I barely know Khaled! I was attempting to snap out of it. A little bit of that double edged sword, named logic and reason, came to mind and so I thought it best to just forget it. Cairo is a big city. I mean it’s highly unlikely I’ll ever see him again.
“Time for me to get back to the task at hand,” I tell myself. “…finishing this Production Management chapter.” I was, and where I would be for the next 2 months, on my desk. Sitting in front of my laptop, with a text book open and a pen and notebook on the right side of it. “Ugh. Why do chapters in this subject have to be SO long?” I moan.
A few minutes into studying, my phone buzzes with a notification from Facebook. Yearning for a miniscule break from studying, I decide to check it. It was an event invite: ‘Farah Magdy invited you to her event “My 20th Birthday Bash” this Friday at 5:00 PM ’
Farah is my best friend. She knows everything about me. Even about that thing in my mind. But she never once judged me. She’s probably the most understanding person I know. And I totally forgot that her birthday was this month. Yet another thing to add to the list of things I hate about myself.
But a whole other issue had just popped in my mind. One of the most dreaded questions I’m forced to ask myself when an occasion pops up. Oh crap. WHAT AM I GONNA WEAR? Seeing my current physique, I couldn’t possibly see myself looking remotely good in anything I have in my closet. Every time I try something on, it never fits the way it should. Mr. Negative in my head isn’t any help either. You want to wear THAT? You look like a sausage with clothes for a casing. That is not your color, ever. Pennywise much? In the end I manage to nearly empty my wardrobe all over my room, and still not manage to find something suitable to wear. The fact that I have to go through this process every single time there’s an event to attend makes me hate celebrating. “Why can’t I celebrate in sweats and sneakers? My presence is what matters, after all.” And if you think all of that is bad, guess who hates shopping because of this? To me there is no greater embarrassment than having to ask the shop for a bigger clothing size and them not having it.
Cutting off my trail of pessimistic thought, the landline rings. It was Farah checking up on the invite. The moment I pick up the phone…
“So, you’re definitely coming to my party, right?” she asks ever so eagerly.
“Uhh yeah of course,” I replied with a smidgen of fear. “I can’t miss my best friend’s birthday, right?”
Farah goes silent for a couple of seconds. “You hesitated when you answered. Why?”
“What?! Nooo no no no I didn’t,” I answer and laugh nervously. I’m screwed. She knows I’m lying.
“Yasmine, are you getting panicky because of this? Come on, be honest with me,” she demanded.
“No. It’s not the panic. It’s..” I can’t even talk out loud about my weight and not finding anything to wear.
“Hm. I get it. The ‘what to wear’ dilemma, huh?” I could swear she’s a mind-reader. Or at least she’s a Yasmine-mind-reader.
I sigh. “Yup. As usual I have nothing to wear.”
“Alright then that settles it. Since I know how much you hate shopping for clothes, I’m coming over. We’ll pick something out together.” She spoke with such confidence and energy. It almost gave me a character boost.
“Wait hold on. We have finals and I don’t want to keep you from studying with my stupid problems and-“
“Problems are never stupid and especially not my best friend’s,” she interrupts. “I’ll bring my notes and we can study together for a bit after we find something for you to look totally fabulous in. So just tell your dad I’m coming over for a study session and he’ll be okay with it. OK?”
“Okay. You’ve got a deal. I’ll go tell him right now and I’ll text you when I have the ‘OK. Shouldn’t be a problem,” I say, hoping he says okay.
“Alright, then. See ya in a bit!” she exclaims. “Yeah. Bye,” and the phone call ends.
Now I just have to tell dad. I hope he doesn’t say no. I go over to my dad where he usually is most of the time. Sitting at his desk on his laptop, writing something political on Facebook.
“Hey, dad?” Here we go.
“Hm? Yes, Yasmine?” he asks, breaking his focus on whatever he was writing.
“Can Farah come over for a study session? We’ll help each other with the subject because it’s a bit tricky,” I get straight to the point.
“As long as you’re actually gonna study then fine. Maybe she’ll even help you get your GPA up since she’s top of your group,” he remarks. I’m on a currently good level while Farah is on an excellent level. You don’t have to keep reminding me, dad. I get it.
“Heh. Yeah. Sure,” I reply. “I’ll just go let her know she can come,” and I leave my dad to whatever other opinions he has.
30 minutes after I text Farah to head over, the intercom rings. I buzzed Farah in and she took the elevator up to our floor. Since the whole house knows Farah, she just knocks and let herself in when I open the door. “Hello, Farid family!” she exclaims.
“Farah! Always nice to see you,” my dad says. “Welcome, and thanks for helping Yasmine with studying.”
“No problem, Uncle Farid. In fact I came because I needed help with this annoying subject. Yasmine understands it better than I do ha ha.” Farah knows how much I wanted my dad to appreciate my effort in studying. So she tries to make me look as studious as possible.
“Okay! Time for us to get to work. Come on, Farah,” I awkwardly intercede. Farah instinctively heads towards my room. She’s practically family so she knows her way around.
“Okay. By the way, Yasmine, I’m leaving for an errand in a bit so if you girls need anything, just call me,” dad says.
“Okay, bye then,” Farah and I say in unison. We enter my room and I shut the door. The minute I do, I let out a huge sigh. Finally the awkwardness ends. I’m relieved to finally get to talk with the one person who truly understands me.
“Alright. Tell me everything on your mind. What’s bothering you?” Farah asks.
“Well you know how much my mom keeps tabs on my dieting, right? Well I gained a kilo and she wasn’t too happy about it.”
“I see,” Farah listens, giving me her full attention. “And because of that you think that nothing in your closet fits you, and you insist on not going shopping because of the same reason.”
As usual, she’s spot on. “Yup. Help?”
Farah sits quiet for a moment, then she gets up and walks over to me. We’re standing face to face. She places her hands on my shoulders and then, “STOP MAKING YOURSELF FEEL LIKE CRAP,” she says shaking me by my shoulders. She lets go and continues on with her pep talk. “Come on, Yas. You are one of the most amazing people I know. And yet, you’re the only one I know who is that amazing but has no freaking idea.”
I look at my feet, then I look up at her from under the curls of my hair. “So why doesn’t anyone think I’m good enough, just the way I am?”
“Dumbass, you’re looking at someone who does!” she exclaims.
I start laughing a bit. “Yeah, I know. And you know I love you for it, and many more reasons.”
“I know you love me, Yas,” she replies. “I just wish you’d love yourself completely. You are worth it.”
I sigh. Then Farah breaks the solemn silence. “Alright! Enough of this mushy stuff. Time to pick out a badass outfit for you. Can’t look fabulous without my fabulous looking best friend!”
Farah opens my closet and I sit on the small love-seat in my room watching her look through everything. With every piece of clothing she picks she goes, “hmmm nope,” or “hmmm maybe.” Farah should actually be my stylist since she knows what will look good on me. Clothes, makeup, and everything in between.
“So, anything else new that I’m not aware of? I doubt it since I know everything there is to know about you and have since we became friends 5 years ago,” she says, with full confidence she’s gotten everything out of me.
“Well, there is one thing, but I don’t know if it’s worth mentioning,” I reply.
She turns to me with a surprised expression on her face. “You think something isn’t worth mentioning? And to me of all people? Earth to best friend of 5 years! You know you can tell me every boring little detail and I would listen to every syllable.”
“I know, I know. I just meant that this isn’t much of a story.”
Farah then drops one of my shirts and plops into the love-seat right next to me. She sits cross-legged, with her elbows on her thighs and her hands under her chin. She looks at me and waits for me to spill the beans ever so patiently.
I sigh. “Alright. Well last week I happened to see an old familiar face across the street from here…” and I tell her about that coincidental happening.
“Oh yeah I remember you telling me about him. You mentioned he was kinda cute but he didn’t talk much,” Farah recalls.
“Well, all I can say is that compared to 4 years ago, ‘kinda cute’ is an understatement,” I tell her. “And that’s from seeing him across the street. Imagine what he looks like up close.”
“Ohhh I feel a chill coming on!” Farah exclaims.
Uh oh. Farah is doing it again. Farah gets excited whenever she thinks one or both of us is about to embark on an adventure. To her, even exploring a new shopping district is an adventure. It’s actually a trait I find over-zealous yet charming about her.
“Farah, don’t storybook this. I just saw the guy across the street! I’ll probably never see him again in this huge city of ours,” I say, with a little feeling of disappointment in the pit of my stomach.
“I’m not storybooking this…” she says. “…yet.”
“Well you can if I ever do see him again, which I highly doubt. In fact, you’re only allowed to storybook this if we have an actual conversation that wasn’t boring,” I say with utmost confidence. My statistical and logistic analysis says I definitely will not see him again. A.k.a my run of luck won’t allow it.
“Alright then, little miss skeptic, you have yourself a bet,” and Farah extends her hand.
We shake on the bet and seal the deal.
“WAIT A MINUTE!” she exclaims.
“What?!” I ask with a bit of concern.
“I just remembered…” she replies. “You recently got a really cute top as a present from your aunt when she was visiting, right?”
“How is it possible you remembered and I didn’t?” I asked, completely baffled.
“Well, dear friend, when the situation calls for it I happen to have great memory. Now, when my bestie is having a fashion dilemma, there is no doubt I will recall every single cute clothing item she possesses.”
“You astound me, Sherlock. Bravo and thank you for reminding me that I put it in the top storage of my closet,” I say, pointing to where the storage is.
Farah grabs my desk chair and climbs on to reach the top storage. She’s a bit shorter than me, but the storage is pretty high up, even for me.
“It’s in this bag right?” she asks.
“Yup. That’s the one,” I reply.
She grabs the bag, closes the storage, and climbs back down. Once she’s on the ground, she opens the bag and pulls the top out. “Oh my goooosh you have to wear this!” she exclaims.
It’s a burgundy, figure hugging top, with lace shoulders extending all the way to just before the end of my shoulder blades, and a low round neck.
“This would look AMAZING with your black pants and some heels,” she says.
“I don’t know. Ya think?” I say with hesitation.
“Just try it on and see for yourself.” She hands me the top and then goes and sits back on the love-seat.
I sigh. “Okay, then.”
I go and open one of the closet doors and stand behind it. I change into the top and walk out from behind the closet door. “Well, what do you think?”
Farah looks at me with gleaming eyes and an excited expression. “Awesome. Try it out with the pants and heels now.”
“Ugh, do I have to?” I moan.
“YES. Don’t argue with me and just do it,” she replies. “We’re not stopping with outfit picking until we have an actual outfit.”
“Fiiiine,” I say. Back to the closet I went. I grab the pants and go behind the door again. Thankfully, my shoes were all in a floor cupboard next to my closet. I put both the pants and heels on, then exit for the final reveal.
“Now? How do I look?” I say, with a drum roll playing in my head.
“PERFECT! That’s our outfit picked!” she says, jumping up from the love-seat and clapping her hands.
“Well, good! Now that this is done I’m going to change back. And calm down, it’s just an outfit,” I say, chuckling.
“Correction, it’s a badass outfit that my best friend is wearing to my birthday bash, thank you very much.”
After I changed back into my normal comfy attire, we decide to get serious and start studying. An hour into studying, we both get stuck on a practical problem in Operations and Production Management.
“Ugh, I just can’t figure this out!” she exclaims, placing her forehead onto the table.
“Me neither, but we have to! This is one of the problems that is sure to come in the final,” I say.
“We need some motivation. And energy. It's way past lunchtime and we haven’t eaten yet,” Farah proclaims. “What do you feel like eating? I’m craving pizza.”
“Well… I don’t think I can eat pizza. Diet and such,” I say, although I was kinda craving pizza myself.
“Okay, how about this? We’ll order a large one and split it between us,” she suggests.
“Okay, sounds good,” I say.
“But we will only order after we get this problem solved. So, first one to finish the problem gets to pick the toppings and last one buys?” Farah loves a challenge. It makes her much more motivated.
“Challenge accepted!” I say with determination.
We kept at the problem for another half-hour. We both ended up absolutely baffled about it. So the challenge ended up with us laughing our asses off at how hopeless the problem was and the weird approaches we took to solving it, and us splitting the pizza and playing rock paper scissors for the topping. We continued the daytime chilling out and watching a movie while eating.
Thank God for you, Farah. I was thinking about how lucky I am to have found her. Thank God…