Drama, drama queens and beggars

I know it doesn't warrant a post on its own - or me breaking my blogging silence with a debut post about her. Seriously. She doesn't deserve the attention. But I guess I have to do it and I will. It will be therapeutic so please dim the lights and here we go! And also, I haven't had time to write here because I have been really busy but that isn't my story today, this is:

It started on the second day I arrived in Bahrain. I landed at night and by noon, I was sat at the kitchen table when she walked in. She looked at me and yelled: "Ya3333eeeeee3, what have you done to yourself. You look terrible."

Unlike her, I don't cake my face with layers of make up the minute I wake up. So, I was sat at home, not wearing make up - something I do without shame, even when I go out. It isn't like I was sitting in front of her without clothes. Besides, there isn't anything wrong with my face for me to conceal and there is no law that I should be sparkling at all hours. The last time I checked I was a human being with soul and substance and not a lightbulb with orange lipstick and blue eye shadow (I swear she does wear that). And while I don't really want to talk about God's creations, hers is a serious case and she seriously needs the immediate intervention of one of those cosmetic surgeons at her young age of 48. I know the fact that her husband is a good 12 years younger than she is is leaving this huge dent on her self-confidence - but her problems and issues aren't really for me to solve, not on my first day in the country or ever. I won't go where certified shrinks have failed. It isn't worth it.

Next up, she asks me how long I will continue being without a car. Now, for those of you unaware of the SHITuation, I was away from Bahrain for almost FOUR years: Out of this country in another one where I had a car. In this country, there was no use for me to keep a car because I was not here. I had just been in the country for less than a day and she asks me why I STILL don't have a car. I thanked her for her concern and told her the truth - that I had just returned from looking at cars and was considering a few options. This was my first day in Bahrain, after all. And she knew all this, and she knew that not having a car on your first morning isn't a crime.

She then dons the advisor's robe - something I had not asked for - and something I won't welcome from her, an uneducated insecure woman who doesn't know how to run her life and who has had a fight (I swear) with each and every single household in this extended family!

She tells me that when I chose a car, I must select a car "my level;" When I asked her what my level was, she said: "You know: a Corolla or a Camry. Something which suits your level." Now there isn't anything wrong with Toyotas. But what's with "my level." And why is she saying it in such a condescending manner?

Shocked, I ask her why she doesn't think I could get myself a Lexus or a BMW. You should have seen the smirk on her sorry face: She screamed and said that people who look at those cars are people with money in their pockets and not you - pointing at me. I don't ever remember discussing my finances with her - and I know this is low - but I have to spit it out: or I won't.

By the afternoon, a friend picked me up from home and we looked at other car showrooms. I saw one I liked and booked it. When I returned home, she was sat waiting for me. Grilling session two started.

"You still have no car?" she asks, with that stupid smile.

"Not yet. But I booked one," I answer when I shouldn't have.

"What did you get?" she asks.

"A Camry," I lie.

"What colour?" she questions, as if it will make a difference in her life.

"Black," I tell her, not knowing what will hit me next.

Man, you should have heard that scream which came out from her ugly trap - as if I had just performed Female Genital Mutilation on her.

"A black Camry. YA3333333EEEEEEEEEEEEEE33333333. That is so disgusting. You are making my stomach turn," she yells at no one in particular.

Again. What does my car have to do with her and her life and her stupidity? I ignore the freak and go up to my room (I am staying with my in laws until I get a house of my own - more on that in another post).

The next day, she is again at it - asking about what car I am getting. A Camry I lie to her. More drama. You know, I think I need to stop this before it grows. I tell her as long as I am disgusting, and I look disgusting, and then there is this thing about "my level" and she has a serious problem with my carlessness - we better not talk to each other because I have nothing I would like to exchange with her and then leave.

You can guess the rest of the drama and what happens to her when she sees the car my husband got me as a GIFT!!!