My Little Cinderellas

My disdain for Saudi weddings doesn't stop my girly girls and their love for them. And what isn't to love when your 9, 7, and 3. With fairy tales like Cinderella all girls love to get dressed up for the ball and mine are no exception. Dress up they do, with some of the brightest, frilliest, most sparkling big hooped dresses they can find.

These dresses were bought in the same place the girls buy all their big dresses. When you say a "wedding" dress they go for these types of dresses. I would have thought Hannah, being a bit older now, would want a more clam dress, something from Monsoon perhaps. But no, she wanted a big hooped dress even if it was in pink, one of the colors she hates. Leyna started off with a bright yellow dress, she looked sort of like a banana considering how skinny the girl is. It isn't that she had the image of Belle in Beauty and the Beast, it just so happens yellow is one of her favorite colors now, besides pink.


Mariam I will admit looked darling in her white dress. The perfect wedding dress which I have now doubt when she grows up she'll want to walk down that isle with as a grown woman about to be married. Even if her mother isn't so thrilled with it when asked if I like it I'll have to return with that motherly saying "It only matters that you like it" which is secret code for I hate it I have a migraine now.


Dresses however are not all that is to these outfits. Girls must of course have a head piece, which one should expect, even a small crown for a overly indulged little girl who thinks she is a princess. But your in Saudi land which means you have to expect that grown women are going to wear crowns too. Don't gasp when you see one thinking they are royalty, anyone can wear a crown here.



Shoes are a must and a hard thing to find in Saudi. I would buy the big dresses which are a bit to much and I have to think about how to pack them, but big gaudy shoes is where I draw the line. Luckily Monsoon did have a pair for Leyna, silver sparkle shoes which she refuses to take off now. And Mariam got a good pair of sandals, white with silver flowers which she can wear daily. Hannah the big foot girl that she is has to go to the ladies shoe store where there is a debate over how high the heel can be for her. Of course she picks up 9" heels with a smile as I retort "NO WAY" and she turns her nose up to any flat sandals. We settled on a shoe with a low heel that she uses now only to prance around her room in imaginary land.



I was told, not asked, that the girls would be going to the saloon at 4 and to bring their dresses with them. I would go with the bride and her sisters so we can all be made up. I walked into this ok saloon and when they turned to me and asked what I wanted I quickly asked "Do you have a massage". Happily I was told yes, up the stairs and to my right, but I never did get away from Mariam. The entire 6 hours that I sat in that stupid saloon, yes 6 flippen hours for three girls, all I could think of is that I want a massage. After 6 hours of Mariam clinging to me and watching the hair stylists fix every ones hair the same exact way (blow dry and than curl with small curls only to be combed out and swept up from the youngest to oldest) I felt like a wreck. By the time it was over all I wanted to do was sleep, not go to a wedding.


Going to a saloon in Saudi is an interesting event. For one there is very little professionalism unless you go to a higher end saloon. Even though the higher end saloons are over priced I prefer them if only for the professionalism. I tend to scrutinize such places a bit harder than another women would because my mother raised me in that industry. I was around beauty saloons much of my life, it was my mothers profession, I know which products are good and which are crap, I also take notice to certain things like proper cleanliness.

Some things I can overlook, such as giving me the shampoo girls to do my girls hair. I don't mind really just because the African women are sent to be the shampoo girls doesn't mean they can't do hair, it just means they are African women on the lower end of the ever present nationality spectrum compared to the Arab women in the shop. But when one women proceeded to carry over a small propane tank to the station Leyna was in it kind of caught my attention. So I watched very carefully.


Shortly after blowing dry Leyna's hair the woman searched all around the saloon for a pair of curling tongs. I did take notice not only to the propane tank sitting at her work station but also the fact that they were very much short on hair supplies. Any saloon should have enough supplies for each work station, not going from station to station hitting each other up for a brush or iron.




Normally these iron tongs would be heated by a small stove like this one. But no we are not in a land where regulations aren't pressed upon in ladies saloons, here basically anything goes. So the stylist walks back over to her station with her newly acquired curling tongs and proceeds to light the small open flame propane tank. There are just so many things wrong with that I don't even know where to begin. Besides the thought of the place burning down and making a mental note of all exits, I though of that hot thing either burning my child or burning her hair off. When those tongs are too hot the hair singes right off, and an open flame will do it. Which is why they make these small little stoves which won't make your tongs way to hot and singe you bold.



I made a mad dash for the woman and said loudly NO NO NO. She looked disappointed as if asking "where do I got electric curling irons" and decided her best course of action was to steal the other lady's from her section since she walked away. A smart move considering I was watching her like a hawk and the other lady has walked off at least a dozen times in the past 20 minutes leaving a very impatient girl in the chair wanting for her hair to be finished sometime that night. As I sat back down watching over my girls I thought of my mother who would have probably beat the woman down for even considering using a propane tank as a heater for the curling tong and ended up making her way to the owner giving her an earful. Man that would have been a great entertaining sight. It is times like these I really miss my mother.



There I sat in desperate need of a massage and a quiet room to go to sleep, since I didn't get to sleep till 2am the night before and my children woke at 8am. Mariam hung clung to me not totally comfortable with her surroundings but willing to get her hair done. All three had their hair blow dried straight than curled in small sections than loads of hair spray and glitter spray to top it off. I thought of what a boring process over and over again one would think it was simple, but not here. First we had the shampoo girls blow dry the hair than curl it and top them off with a hair net. As they sat and waited for another woman to finally make her way into the room and decided to only do three girls hair. Two of mine and their cousin than she decided no I'm finished. She proceeded to tell the manager, no I'm done I have finished my quota and walked off to do nothing. So I had to wait in the mass wave of confusion to find out who would finish my one daughter's hair. About 1/2 hour latter they figured it out and she came and finished the 10 minute job. At that point I was too tired to even think about how stupid all of that was.


But I noticed that this wasn't uncommon, loads of working ladies yet so many people walking around waiting for someone to do some procedure. Many of the employees talking on their cell phones, refusing to do service for a customer, or simply walking off and no one knows where anyone is. Yes paying a bit more for better service in this part of the world is so worth it ladies.


Six hours latter I finally stumble out of the saloon with the growls of my stomach to keep me company. Now there is one thing you can always count on me for, I'll eat. I won't be one of those friends you take for lunch and orders the smallest of meals while your ravishing thinking "I have to order small too because if not I'll look like a greedy oinker". No with me as your eating partner all diets are out the window so to say that going without food for such a long period of time is a sacrifice for me it really is. (Ramadhan however is a different matter, going without food doesn't bother me than).


We made it back to my sister in laws to get the girls dressed and for me to throw something half decent on. My hair wasn't done and strangely those dark circles under my eyes didn't count as makeup all though all the women have such dark makeup on their eyes they all looked like they got punched. My sister in law looked at me sadly as to say what a shame you didn't do anything with yourself as I'm telling her how haram all of this is because I'm starving! She looks at me like I shouldn't be hungry and just laughs as I inform Mr. Man we will be stopping at McDonalds before we enter the hall.


All of my girls were starving as well, getting a bit cranky as the adrenalin of this day was beginning to wear off at 11pm at night. We stopped for some happy meals and suddenly Mr. Man who was our driver for the night couldn't stop laughing. "What is wrong with you?" I asked concentrating on my meal of happiness. "You...(laughing)... You.. (laughing)" he can barely control himself. "What is your problem?" If I hadn't been fed I would have clobbered him right there. "You... every french fry is being (laughing) inhaled in your mouth (laughing)." At that point I felt ridiculous and laughed "You know I can't go without food for this long, their starving me it is haram!!" And everyone starts to laugh as they inhale their food as well.


We enter the hall and a lazy guard asks me for my invitation with so less than any enthusiasm. Mr. Man shouts out "I'm the uncle of the bride" and I'm waived on. Inside sits one lone security woman checking bags for cameras and phones. And there I stand with camera in hand at the request of Mr. Man's niece. The security lady tries to touch my camera and I turn away quickly and tell her the bride wants me to bring the camera. "No camera" she says and tries to go for me again. I give a nudge to the girls and enter the hall with the security woman on my tail. I turn back to her "find the brides family and they'll tell you" and she makes the mistake of grabbing for my arm. I turn to her "Don't touch me!" she sees in me it is in her best interest to back off. "You can follow me but do NOT touch me" and than in an instant my inlaws are swarming down on the security woman. I'm shoved passed the lady and into the hall to sit at the family table in the front.


The music was loud, very loud and I turned to my sister in law showing my displeasure of the music. She nods in agreement, it is too much and I grab a few tissues. She watches in amusement as I twist up small pieces and place them in my ears. She may have laughed but I left with my hearing still intact. The girls are now tired and unhappy that everything is so loud but go on the rounds to say hello to all their aunties and cousins they don't know or don't remember.


I noticed that women through out the hall look at my girls and smile. Some reached out and grabbed Mariam as she walks about and plant a kiss or two. Hannah grabs the attention of many of the ladies and I sat in my chair thinking ... is it because she is the American girls daughter or is it the looks of women seeking potential brides for their boys. Paranoia I say to myself and chalk it up to her just looking beautiful, but in my heart knowing the latter is probably true.


I popped upstairs to take a few pics of the bride, some of the family and her groom. I chatted with the professional photographer as I witnessed the chaos of my own family. "How do you deal with this?" I asked her "You must have be patient" She said with a giggle. "Well they are my family and I don't have to be patient." as I started to bark orders for them to get themselves together.


We arrived at 12am and were in the car at 1:30 am with glitter flowing in every spot and my girls tired yet still excited. I remind Mr. Man that I hate weddings so much and remarked how tired the girls are and lets get home. Mariam turned to me and said with eyes so bright "I'm not tired Mama" two seconds latter she was passed out with her head on my lap.







All three of my little cinderellas slept soundly through the night dreaming I'm sure of their own weddings with Prince Charming one day in their future.