Greenserene - by Mehrdad Riyahi
I never needed to say much on first dates or interviews. My body is a map of my wanderings. I’m a quiet girl by nature, so it suits me.
My caramel skin is the emblem of my Egyptian ethnicity from my father’s side, while my mother’s Malaysian background is evident in the slant of my eyes and the tilt of my cheeks. My father was in the military, and reassigned every second year; we were globe-trotters, nomads. I lost my first tooth in Texas, left my first bloody mark in Algeria, savored my first kiss in Spain, won my first spelling bee in Israel, graduated with my first degree in Australia. I celebrated our stay in India with a web-work of henna penciled upon my hands, and a tapestry of tattoos on my arms still reminds me of Brazil. In Kenya my piercings first ran rampant, and sometimes I still style my hair in the dreadlocks I favored in Jamaica. Born and bred everywhere, I’ve more stamps than an ambassador’s passport.
When I fell for my husband in Germany, a whole new world unraveled upon me. Creeks of laughing lines and brow-lines have begun to crease my face, and the rivulets of stretch marks on my hips are my proud battle-scars of giving birth. My hair is changing shades, painting its own story of experience and trials. I dab my face with war-paint inspired by Mediterranean ingredients, beautifying myself for my latest exodus out to the world.
"Angreek87"
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