GROUP CHAT AND AUNT SADDIQA

                                    

                                          
ABIDAT
The thobe was nothing short of beautiful.
The thobe feels like it was made just for me. The milky white fabric was free and soft, just how I imagined it—not too tight, not too loose. The golden embroidery along the neckline and cuffs catches the light, drawing attention to the intricate floral patterns that trace down my arms. I run my fingers over the delicate threads, marveling at how they shimmer with every tiny movement.
The fabric flows effortlessly from my shoulders to the floor, the straight cut giving me a sense of elegance I rarely feel in anything else. The sleeves are adorned with golden embroidery, contrasting with my fair skin tone.
It came with a thin silky veil, which I wanted to tie on my hair in a turban.
The necklace was a whole different story, though. It was beautiful, yes, made from gold and medallion—a heavy, layered piece that covered the entirety of my neck area. A headpiece was included, with the same designs and layers. Some would have said wearing this would make you stand out, but I knew compared to the people at the event, this was probably just a ring.
The first time I saw the cloth was the day I finished my exam. My initial reaction was to scream, and I did.
Four weeks later, it still mesmerized me. I had about three weeks until resumption and two weeks until the Shuwa gathering, so I wore the dress for fitting.
A seamstress was pinning the thobe in places that needed to be adjusted; turns out I had lost weight these past few weeks, so the thobe came out bigger than it originally was.
"All done," Nana, the seamstress, said as she cut the remaining piece of thread she had just sewn in. I twirled around and admired myself in my mirror.
You remember that mirror that always made me judge myself? Well, now me and it were in a semi-good relationship.
"Shukran, aunty. It looks so good, though. I don't know how to explain it to you—it makes me feel confident." I smiled at her through the rearview mirror.
"It's no problem, Tahbeer, and you do look beautiful too," she sighed. "I have to go, please greet your mother for me."
I nodded and escorted her to the door. I was home alone, so I locked the door before making my way upstairs.
I grabbed my phone and took some pictures. Even without the veil, the thobe managed to make me look effortlessly beautiful.
I smiled as I saved it before sending it to Laila.
I dropped my phone and slowly removed my clothes. I had managed to lose 5 kg through starving myself.
Unhealthy, I know.
But I felt stronger and better, even though it meant not eating as much as I did before. I had also lost about 3 inches off my waist—not a lot, but I was proud. I looked better, healthier, though my thighs remained ever the less stubborn.
I slipped on an oversized tee just as my phone pinged.
LAILA: Omo, who's this fine gurl? You look beautiful, MashaAllah.
I smiled at my phone. Though Laila was angry at me when I told her about my weight loss plan, she never failed to support me throughout the journey.
She was currently in Kaduna for her cousin’s wedding and would be back anytime soon. I missed her, but there was nothing else I could do.
I quickly replied with a thank you before putting my phone away and grabbing a half-eaten chocolate bar.
My phone pinged some more, and I knew it wasn’t from Laila.