My husband wants to have children, but I feel I am not ready. I worry he just wants to keep me at home because I am interested in doing more study and maybe working again soon. They just want to control, these insecure men. What does he think, that I will run off with a man I might meet at work? I bet that’s what he worries given he has been exposed as much less than the big man he claimed to be when he met my family and flashed his biodata full of impressive credentials as a Master’s degree from the Ponds Institute. You know, I would consider having an affair if another man wanted me, but ore baba, Allah, it would bring so much shame. I have to stop. I think I will go have a cold shower.
The Friday prayer was very funny. The imam spoke that the men should attempt to be good husbands by saying nice things to their wives like the Prophet (pbuh) did. It is a real shame there is no mention of housework in the Koran. Weren’t there any dishes to do in the 6th century in the Arabian desert? Did these nomadic tribes never have to do any washing? This is what the men really need to hear about. There is no point saying nice things to me about my food or hair if I have to do the blasted dishes every day of the year and cook and clean and organize all his crap because he never knows where anything is.
I tried something very funny this week- I did a Pilates class. I had never heard of Pilates. What the hell is that? It sounds like some kind of pita- you know those pancakes we fry up in Bangladesh. I wanted to do some exercise. It is so boring sitting at home and watching satellite television from Bangladesh. The soap operas on television here are even worse. Oh no, but my tummy is very weak and the other women were so thin. The class was organized by the local authorities for newly arrived immigrant women. Very nice. A Sudanese sister did something called a plank and her baby on her back at the same time, like carrying them in the desert back in Africa. Amazing. I think I will go again.