The Perfect Girl

48

Credit to @fiercecub01for being Hiba and Khalid's wedding planner! <3 <3.   Above is the general idea of Hiba's dress.  Not exactly it, but whatever.

"Cause she's a perfect girl,                                                                                                                                           She's a happy girl,                                                                                                                                                               She's a foolish girl."

I ran out of class, making a fool of myself and looking like a child, but not minding in the least because I would never see these people again. 

Well, besides Graduation Day.

Outside, Khalid was leaning against the door, waiting for me, phone in hand.  He must have heard my footsteps, because he looked up, grinned at me, arms outstretched. 

I practically jumped onto him, wrapping my arms around him.

He laughed, "As salaamu alaikum, sweetheart."

"Wa alaikum us salaam!" I squealed, "I'm done!"

"Mashallah.  How does it feel to be free?"

"Amazing!"  I exclaimed, then pouted, "I'm only upset I'll have to come back for graduation."

He gave me a strange look, "Shouldn't you be excited?"

"Nope," I grumbled, "I'm nervous."

"Why?"

"I'm going to trip for sure."

He laughed at me, "That does seem like you."

I punched his shoulder and pulled away from him to get into the car.

***

A while after the graduation-- at which I did not, in fact, fall-- we had the Walima.

This was definitely the most memorable of all the functions. 

It was hosted in a banquet hall. 

A friend of mine had done the catering, the main course being biryani, and it was delicious.  I was glad that the food had actually turned out well, because I'd been accustomed to wedding's having the worst food.

The theme of most of the decorations was a dark, beautiful green-- Khalid's favourite colour-- while I and Khalid coordinated outfits. 

I was wearing a long, flowy lavender dress that reached past my feet and silver heels.  I insisted on getting heels, because I was short and I needed at least 3 inches.   Khalid was wearing a suit with a lavender tie, something the guests would proceed to 'ooh' and ahh' about.

I remember the moment I looked myself in the mirror after I tried on my wedding dress.  I stopped, stared at my reflection, swept my hair over one shoulder, and studied myself.  I knew immediately that this was the one.

It draped over my body perfectly.  Its skirt was not too large, but it fell just right over my hips, and the bodice of it, all lace and embroidery, fit like it was made for me.  I remember mumbling for Khalid to come in, being almost surprised when he heard me and came into the change room.

When he saw me, his jaw nearly dropped.  I watched his eyes widen.

"God," he breathed, "You're beautiful, love."

I blushed hard, said, "I think this is the one."

He nodded at me.  I started to walk over to the hooks to grab my clothes, and he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close to him and kissed me.

Now, as I wore that dress and intertwined my hand with Khalid's and walked up to the seat that had been prepared for me, I felt beautiful.

***

I wish I could say that this was it.  That after this I truly loved myself.

But the truth of it is that one day I would.  One day I would stop punishing my body for wanting to survive and start being grateful to it.  I would begin thanking my heart for being steady in its pumping even when nothing else was, my legs for holding me up when I wanted to collapse, my skin for continuing to feel even when my mind was numb, and my lungs for breathing even when I didn't want them to.

One day, this body would be enough for me, I would be enough for me, the creation of Allah would be enough for me.

After all, I was not built to break.

The End.