naked muslim girl

My mom was in India recently. I missed her a lot. Like when I scraped my knee. She spoils me with her love and takes good care of me. She feels my own pain with twice the intensity and celebrates my successes with excitement that dwarfs mine.

Case in point:

December of senior year of high school. Waiting to hear about college acceptances. As mentioned before, I was a bit (ha) of a stress cadette in high school. I was ten times more neurotic than I am now and really high strung. I had applied early to Harvard and was set on getting in. I felt like Balki Bartokomous in Perfect Strangers: "Harvard or Bust."

I was so nervous about finding out my fate that I literally did not eat, sleep or (shamefully) shower for the two days before the decisions were made available. I woke up with a start on Monday, December 16th, 1996. All potential applicants were allowed to call to find out their decision at 9:00 AM. I started calling at 8:30 AM (Stop judging! Years of therapy have made me better.) But apparently I wasn't the only one doing so. I kept getting a busy signal. Finally around 10:00 AM my mom came into my room, grabbed me and said:

"You look disgusting. Take a shower. You'll feel better."

I decided that a shower couldn't hurt ... and so went into her bathroom and turned on a stream of very hot water and let the steam cloud my already weary mind. I stood there for what seemed like an eternity, finally having some semblance of sanity for the first time in days. I began shampooing my hair when I heard a knock.

I turned and looked, and saw my mother standing there knocking on the glass shower door. She was gesturing frantically at the cordless phone in her hand. I opened the shower door and looked at her with disbelief.

"I hit redial and someone picked up!" she squealed.

I took the phone, calmly told the woman on the other end my social security number, and nodded my head when she gave me the answer. My poker face fooled my mother, who thought I didn't get in. Then, I smiled and told her I had been accepted.

She shrieked like a banshee and burst immediately into tears (a technique I have still not been able to master. My tears build up slowly then pour like a fountain. I can't cry spontaneously). The next thing she said was:

"You must Thank God for this opportunity."

Without hesitating, she grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the shower and dragged me into her bedroom, where a large portrait of the Aga Khan (spiritual leader of our sect) hangs. Mind you: I am buck nekked, with shampoo in my hair.

She ordered me again: "Thank God for your acceptance to Harvard."

So there I stood. Hands clasped, suds in my hair and eyes, completely exposed in my birthday suit, saying "Thank you God for letting me get into Harvard."

Is she the cutest or what?

Now, readers, I do admit I have an ulterior motive in telling this story. I primarily want to express to you how awesome and funny my mom is. But I also am feeling very nostalgic for that day in 1996, because nine years and three months later, on March 16th, 2006, I found out I was accepted to Harvard Medical School. Woohoo!

I am beyond thrilled and really excited. My mom once again burst into tears when hearing the news. She didn't, however, make me strip down to my skivvies and thank the powers that be. I, uh, did that later.