So you’re getting married. Great! Whoop dee doo. La la la. *rain dance*
Happy? Apparently not… somehow it seems that without a hoard of people clapping them into intercourse, they cannot be truly happy. I’ve had many people try and threaten me with: “I’m not ever coming to your wedding! No one will come to your wedding!” only to hear this reply: “That’s the point, moron!”
Pakistani have perfected the fine art for being constantly offended for one not participating in their month long “oooh my money LOOK! Shaadi shaadi shaadi!” celebrations and Nabiha has perfected the art of sending them excessively sarcastic & rude excuses. Here are some:
- I fell in love
- I fell out of love
- I was about to get my period (PMS)
- I got my period
- I got post-menstrual crankiness after that. The whole month was ruined I tell you! RUINED!
- I chipped a nail & cried for 3 days since I’m a woman.
- Weddings depress me because my aim in life is to get married & pop 20 kids in a row since I am, after all, a woman. WHY won’t anyone marry me, damn it! (wailing starts)
- I’m due for a wedding induced aneurysm that day.
- My waxing lady fell sick. People would have thought a bear in sari has walked in.
- And I also couldn’t get my face waxed. I was shit scared someone would mistake me for a goat and sacrifice me!
- I am allergic to perfume. You don’t want me to die now, do you?
- I have erythrophobia, which is fear of the colour red (via @mahnooryawar)
- I burnt my sari while ironing it.
- I burnt the house down actually.
- I died temporarily. Want a doctor’s note?
- I went into a coma for a few weeks. What a coincidence it was during the mating season…
- I had promised my belly button I’d take care of all that fuzz.
- I have a big date with my toe-nails. They’re very long with loads of dirt. Wanna see?
- You spelt my name wrong. I’m not a Sheikh with an E. If you truly loved me, you’d know that. I’m so offended. I thought we were close. I guess I was wrong. I feel betrayed. You betrayed me! (wailing)
- What card? Something came for Mr & Mrs Shaikh & family. My name is not family.
- You called my mother a Mrs. You are sexist & I a feminist. Conflict of interest here!
- I converted to a new religion & going to weddings is strictly prohibited. You’re welcome to join me in a pork eating ceremony though. Ooops that conflicts with your beliefs now does it? Awww but come on it’s for my happiness, na!
- I don’t believe in marriage. No seriously I don’t & if you don’t know that then we’re not good enough friends for me to attend your wedding anyway.
- I absolutely refuse to reward this shameless display of heterosexuality.
- I don’t attend weddings that don’t invite hijras.
- I’m lactose intolerant. I accidentally ate some cheese and spent the evening farting.
- You’re a firm believer in horoscopes, right? Well, my astrologer told me not to leave the house because I was in danger since Venus was in retrograde & Scorpio was blocking the sun! Apparently an anvil would have hit me on the head…
- I was busy writing a rant about how much I hate you for inviting me to your wedding. Oh, and your present is not making it public by putting it up on my blog.
- Errmm when were we even friends?! Just because I know you, doesn’t mean I like you enough to put on a sari.
And here are some actual conversations I’ve had:
“Oh you see the thing is that I fell off the toilet, hit my head on the floor & got amnesia.”
“But you missed the WHOLE wedding. When did this happen?”
“Errmm what were your dates again?”
“You missed my wedding!” said an indignant cousin. “WHY weren’t you there?”
“Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry. My allergies were acting up. I thought I was going to die! It’s a miracle I’m alive, really.”
“That’s so sad, Nabs. So sorry to hear that & now I understand, you poor thing. What are you allergic to anyway?”
“Weddings and aunties…”
All jokes aside, the people I personally judge the most are those who don’t even consider giving me a break for this very genuine excuse: “it’s exam/essay time. My students need me & I need to mark papers, not shake butt cheeks.” Just the very fact that someone is asking me to sacrifice education for their shameless display of riches in a poor land speaks volumes about their character. Anyone who thinks that their self-indulgent events are more important than education is, frankly, someone I’d rather not associate with. They are not the kind of company I keep.
Furthermore, the next time someone tells me to at least show my face (the moun to dekha do! whine) I’m going in pjs with oil in hair, unthreaded, unshowered, looking worse than anyone can even imagine. Either that or I’m sending this picture: