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Ramadan: Expectations vs. Reality

For Muslims, the month of Ramadan sort of turns into a love-hate relationship with yourself. It’s like a battle between you and your inner demons. Take a look.

Expectation:

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Ahhhh the holy month. This is my time to meditate, to love, to pray, to be patient. They say one reflects best when they are stripped of their desires and, simply said, this month will be one of contemplation and reflection.

Reality:

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Rampant hunger fests. Getting angry at my younger brother for playing drums. Bickering over everything. Yes, I contemplate. I contemplate eating food.

Expectation:

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Five minutes before ftoor, and everyone fasting expects to devour the entire table from the sambusek appetizers and lentil soup, to the kibbeh, fattoush and strawberry cheesecake.

Reality:

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False. Everyone is full by the time they get to the kibbeh, but they push on regardless for fear of seeming weak. This will result in overrating, which causes bloating, anger and discontent.

Expectation:

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Suhur will be graceful and joyous. My family and I are going to wake up, munch on delicious and fresh saj, and have good times.

Reality:

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I can’t get myself to wake up. Also, why can’t I find any leftover pizza from yesterday? I’m not about to go down the elevator to pick up a sandwich from b2b. I better find that leftover pizza.

Expectation:

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If I drink three bottles of water during su7ur, I won’t wake up thirsty. I got this.

Reality:

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No. Nope. Nada. Still thirsty.

Expectation:

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Not missing a single prayer this month.

Reality:

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Not missing a re-run of Gossip Girl.

Expectation:

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Finishing up the Hunger Games book series because reading is productive, and I have more free time at home during Ramadan.

Reality:

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Actually experiencing the “hunger games” in real life. May the odds be in our favor.

Expectation:

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Not going out on dates, because #staghfurullah.

Reality:

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I’m having a date every single night. Several of them, in fact.

Expectation:

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Ftoor is going to be glorious every night, and I’m going to eat all the fast food I dream of during the day.

Reality:

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Then there are those days mama is going to want to cook bemiyeh.

Expectation:

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I want to do more for the poor.

Reality:

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Waking up two hours before ftoor and then complaining for the rest of the day about how you woke up too early. Doesn’t really work that way, hon.