As we head into November, I am still soaked in sweat. It was 95 degrees today in Amman. This morning I grudgingly put on my pants, slipped on a shirt and a ton of deodorant. Almost immediately little beads of sweat began to form on my neck and forehead. I went through three liters of water today just to replenish the inane amount exiting through my skin.
Since I lost my foundation a week ago, I have been going sans makeup—a big step for me. It still freaks me out. But I make it ok by saying it would just sweat off anyway—because it would.
I wake up in the night soaked in sweat. I keep the windows closed to keep the mosquitoes out, so the fan I have basically circulates warm air. Maybe I am losing weight in my sleep—the fit of my pants seems to confirm this theory.
Today, despite the haram nature of my shirt, I decided to forgo the scarf. It’s just too freaking hot. It makes me wonder about the other Muslim women.
If you look around campus, almost all wear their hijabs, but many also wear full denim or khaki trench coat type outfits (Jilbab). And they wear jeans or other pants underneath.
Then there are the women who wear the full Burka. They are wearing BLACK. How hot can that be? And they keep their hands covered as well, wearing leather gloves. So, really, I have it easy not having to wear strict attire, but I feel bad for these women, I don’t want to know how miserably hot it must be for them day after day.
I miss Iowa falls. Here, it’s just endless sunny days of hot hot heat. Where is my depressing clouds?! Where is the nip in the air that signals the first frost is only days away? I don’t know. But it ain’t here.
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