Saturday afternoon, I went to a baby shower.
I’ve been to a lot of baby showers, but this one was different.
This baby shower was for my beautiful friend Faiqa, who is a Pakistani American with a butt load of middle eastern friends. And while you might not think that this fact alone is significant, think for a minute about putting one very loud, very American white girl in the middle of a room full of practicing muslims of Pakistani and Indian descent.
My chances of offending someone inadvertenly were as high as I was that time I ordered one of everything off the Village Inn menu.
In an effort to deflect attention from my own offensiveness, I brought backup.
OK, I didn’t technically bring her. Faiqa invited Hilly because she likes her or something. Whatever. I threatened to put dog poop on her front door if she didn’t show up and insisted that she sit by me.
ANYway – me, Hilly, and a bunch of brown people.
OK – fine. There were other white people there.
God it’s hard to write a post about my foray into a new culture when there is all of this cultural diversity and accpetance already going on.
Like most baby showers I’ve been to, there was a ton of food for the guests to gorge themselves on. But instead of finger sandwiches and pasta salad, we were served authentic Indian food. This was my first time eating Indian food and I was a little nervous about how it would taste and whether or not I would like it.
Which I said out loud to a room full of people because I am bursting with tact and class.
Luckily, Faiqa walked through the serving line with me and graciously explained the names and main ingredients of each dish. I took pictures and careful notes so that I would be able to remember what I was eating long enough to share it with you later.
Man I’m glad Faiqa took the time to graciously explain all of this to me.
OK, so you may have a hard time finding the recipe for these dishes on Google. I’m sure you can ask Faiqa. And you should. Because despite my tactfully hidden conerns about eating Indian food – everything was delicious. Well, the cold yogurt thing was OK – but everything else was delicious. And I bet it would be even more delicious with tortilla chips.
I’m just saying.
After eating, it was time for the tattoo artist.
Yes, the tattoo artist.
I went to Faiqa’s baby shower and came home with a tattoo.
Maybe I didn’t have to pin the neckline of my dress closed after all.
While I was getting my tattoo, the rest of the party goers were opening baby presents and talking about babies and babies babies babies blah blah blah.
But the important part is, I got a tattoo.
And it’s totally permanent for next 1-2 weeks.