Contributed by Marwa Moad

A couple of nights ago, I decided to make a dramatic change in the dull course of my repetitive monotonous life. I carried my heavy body-and soul- and pulled my lazy behind from the depth of a sofa as if I was fishing in the Pacific to finally get upĀ and hang out with some friends.

So long introduction short, I met an old friend whomĀ I haven’t seenĀ since high school. I’m in my mid twenties so you can claimĀ it’s quite enough time to develop new features, you know things like unwanted facial, neck or ear hair, basically hair that lost its way to the scalp and got too lazy to get all the way up there so it decided to hang on any region and made sure it was embarrassingly visible enough. ThingsĀ like insecurities, eye bags maintenance, permanent identity crisis, saggy arms that areĀ too often mistaken for thighs, awkward speeches, awkward silences, general rejection, breaking into slow claps alone in the middle of the previously mentioned awkward silence, same old same old of those common problems for anyone my age, SOOOO anyway,

We cruised around in my car to catch up, and you know my friend is the kind of human being that does not age for even 15 minutes even after all of these years. She’s probably Benjamin Buttoning her way out of this life, with silky golden hair, a body that drips with pheromones, a face that is full of well-arranged cells and all the shit we hear about like it has all the necessary features, EYES, AND EYEBROWS. So aaaanyway, we start talking and catch up on stuff as any two girls meeting. As it is obvious that there is no other interesting topic we could dive in, nothing like world hunger or the Middle East crisis or Caitlyn Jenner, we decided to talk about OUR LOVE LIFE. Since I haven’t been introduced practically to this kind of expression, I decided to be the recipient that choosesĀ to comfort the complainer in the conversation, in this scenario she is. I was there listening to her with my cellulite sneaking under my shirt and my belly button crying for help through my XXL cotton t-shirt mixed with polyester that turned me into a walking raccoon in disguise. I was listening with care and all kinds of interest as she said, “AND THAT GUYYYY OMGGGGā€¦ HE WOULDN’T STOP CALLING ME AND I HATE HIM SO MUCH; I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO”ā€¦.thing is, I couldn’t relate, how is some guy calling you a problem??? I mean the height of my phone activities was being mistaken in a call for a Serbian masseuse, who I decided to play along as her and even in this I failed!!…I mean the epitome of sexual tension that I have ever experienced was when MacDonald’s delivery boy acknowledged my existence and recognized me and said “hey” with a smirk to my face in the 49th time he delivered me my two large daily combos regular order.!!! So remind me please, HOW IS SOME GUY CALLING YOU CONSTANTLY IS CATEGORIZED AS AN ISSUE!?

So I moved on and then she hit me with this phrase “AND OMG THAT GUY …HE IS NOT MY TYPE!!”

WHAT TYPE!!! ARE GUYS NOW TYPES!! IT’S DATING NOT BLOOD DONATION! !I mean for me … if he can breed and breathe then hell yeah he is my typeā€¦ if he is pulsating, it’s more than enough!…What the hell is a type?? I mean look around!! Why would do you look for a type??? Human is okā€¦I do not think being more specific would make the quest of searching practical, that is just a redundant and unnecessary complication.

And then the bomb of weight just exploded. She as a human walking skeleton that scratched her way up to the surface kept complaining “AND I WENT TO GET THIS DRESS AND IT WOULDā€™T FIT SO I REALLY HAVE TO LOSE LIKE A LOT OF WEIGHT!”

Meanwhile, I was drooling with donut frosting in my bust crack, I mean, I already passed the double chin phase and I am petting a blow fish on the upper section of my non existing neck!! What weight loss does she need!! If I would get into Hogwarts gates I’d have to slide in a 45 degrees angle to squeeze myself through!!!

And oh my favourite part, “and you know what I AM SICK OF EVERYONE CHECKING OUT MY BODY.”

This was the second I had a mental cardiac arrest. I walk around sites full of men as police stations, public men’s bathrooms, hair salons, genital assessment male doctors casually just searching for one check out, I stick my everything out like CAN’T YOU SEE THIS SEX APPEAL AT ITS FINEST and they are all like cover up you are burning our eyeballs you monstrous floppy dangling creature.

I felt like a saggy sixty years old female hulk with a hair loss problem and a really large armpit stain.

In order to conclude this outing that has definitely lead to the 50th MacDonald’s order and lying down in the corner of my wardrobe for nineteen months in a fetal position while thumb sucking, I can bravely say thatā€¦.there are two kinds of people, those who tease, and those who are teased, those whose faces are absolutely always ready for the closest front cam picture and still look like a Greek goddess, and then there is me, with a resting face that looks like I just ate a slimy lizard and that I just sat on a pointy pillar along with being able to feel my cells expanding to conquer another inch around all simultaneously with a nauseous expression like I have been dipped into a lake of stomach secretions.

And those two kinds of people don’t get along.