Despite the constant stomach pains, cavernous-sounding tummy rumbles (I don't know how my tummy makes those noises, it sounds like I'm hiding away the Grand Canyon in my abdomen; though I suppose I should be thankful that at least it doesn't LOOK like I'm hiding the Grand Canyon in there), puasa breath (other people's, obviously. I do not have puasa breath. And if you doubt me I can open my mouth in front of your nose and prove it to you), waking up for sahur (forcing one to answer that age-old question... Sleep or eat?), trying to keep my potty mouth (I swear like a sailor) and temper (I WILL tell you to fuck off and die if you are a misogynist who makes noises at me when I walk past you, even if it's Ramadhan, because I am not a object for you hoot at and YOU have zero manners and very probably a tiny dick) in check, pre-buka crankiness (though for some, this is due more to lack of nicotine than food; I'm not going to point any fingers at anyone but I DO know of a goose who is EXTREMELY guilty of this and who REALLY needs to conquer his nicotine addiction and at least TRY to be cheerful right before buka...), constant whingeing and moaning (see this entire paragraph)... I quite enjoy Ramadhan.
I like testing myself, and I get a perverse sense of pleasure from the pains! of STARVATION! because I am a masochist.
I like appreciating my food more than usual, because I can be quite a glutton and Goosey is always prompting me to think of the starving children in Africa when I can't finish my meals, and with Ramadhan, I get to BE a starving child, except not in Africa, and not really a child. Or a very over-grown one.
Most of all, I like feeling that feeling of camaraderie with my fellow Muslim peeps, because, sadly or not, I don't feel any sort of camaraderie with any of the societal groups that most people seem to identify with -- national, religious or ethnic. Don't feel it, don't fit in, don't identify, and in the case of ethnicity and race, don't even subscribe to the idea of it. So even though it's only a fleeting camaraderie, because I don't get particularly more religious in any other way other than just fasting, I feel quite united with the rest of the Muslim world via my stomach. Which makes my stomach feel warm and fuzzy for a month, even though its empty for most of it.
And now, photograph of random eclair I was craving so much I had dribble coming out of my mouth while I was carrying it home (yes, I am a sexy beast). Two hours to go until breaking fast, COME ON!
