She made me sit on a type of scales slash sofa thingy and took my height in centimeters.
I swallowed simultaneously looking forward to and fearing the results.
However, the actuality of my height was quite graceful here.
After the usual admirable comments by strangers and even hate ("giant") for it,
I stand at six foot. It is quite size-able for my weight.
I was a slim child, which never translated into my adolescence well. I have always been a snacker and a sugar baby, and my pre-teen discovery of white bread meant love-handles at eleven. That ancient baby pudginess have become my caricature, to the extent that my sister stuffed shirts round her belly to poke fun at my 'iconic' silhouette without outright slamming my looks.
Those mountain-legs (as I call them) stick out from the sides + make my skinny jean slip down.
I am not 'wife material', as you probably have gathered from by now, not at this moment.
I just think that the typical dream wife for the average Muslim male, is dainty, fair skinned, very slim which I am not.
At this 6 foot height of mine carrying this weight and with dark mahogany skin many act disinterested, which speaks as much to the shallowness and immaturity of some of our brothers as well as their own internal issues with colorist and weight politics.
The womanist on the surface of me says flip 'em, strut and if a man wants to marry for anything except religion, then he need to do some shoegazing.
But because of my fragility, I have fallen for the white supremacist beauty standards which has so easily cracked me, being born plus raised in Western Europe.
I have fried and stretched my hair as far as it can go beyond my shoulders. Been on weight-watchers and slimming world - its fine.
Its not going to work, and by how hard it is to get married for most Muslims (I guess a lot of it come from us not looking at the bigger picture of marriage), I'll be single for a while longer!
- By Laila Ali Haid