and full. Her nose is defining without dominating. Her mouth is small, but her lips are full and colorful. Her neck is smooth. Her shoulders are broad. Her figure is buxom, but her long legs counter her full figure. Her hands are baby-soft and graced with long fingers adorned in costly jewelry.
Asma is a perfect vision of beauty. I had heard gossip about the benefits of her beauty at a women's party. Asma, I was told, enjoyed more offers of marriage than all of her five full sisters and eleven half-sisters combined.
Two years ago, she married an exceptionally wealthy and powerful Saudi executive involved in the oil industry. Not surprising, her husband is a third cousin on her mother's side of the family.
Again and again I have been told by Saudi men and women that a marriage between cousins is a clever idea. Such a marriage, so the thinking goes, enriches one's extended family rather than weakening it.
I wonder if Saudis will ever change their thinking on this incredibly incorrect idea. Accustomed for generations to living by rigid tradition, they often have great difficulty accepting scientific facts.
I've been told that Asma's husband, Khalid, is one of the wealthiest non-royals in the kingdom. He is more than twenty years her senior, but she tells me that she feels treasured by the wisdom of an older husband. She is extremely proud to be his only wife.
I inwardly wince as Asma complacently announces, "I follow my husband's advice on every important matter."
Asma's full lips are now pulsing with words of certainty. "I am proud to be a Saudi woman. I dislike it when people from the West discuss our lives and talk about our misery, even as they admit they have never met a Saudi woman!" She fingers the circlet of diamonds around her neck before tugging at the luscious gown wrapped loosely about her form. "And I believe that my veil protects me."
A smile breaks over my face. "Oh?"
I had heard Saudi women offer this argument many times over the past few years. To my profound bewilderment, many are convinced that the restrictive veil and numerous social restrictions protect them.
Asma relishes drama, and now her voice climbs as she counts off the arguments for her controlled Saudi life on her fingers.
"We have the best society for women. God had the perfect plan for men and women. Men are strong and women are weak. Men have their role as protectors. Women have their role as nurturers."
She snaps her fingers, eager to convert me to her way of thinking. "God made men and women so that every part of both will fit. The man's chest and belly is flat so it will not crush a woman's full chest. The male organ is a perfect match for the woman's secret place. The skin of a man is too strong to stretch and make room for babies, unlike the flexible skin of a female. After an infant is welcomed to this earth, someone must take care for it. Are men suitable for such work? No. It is a woman's job."
She pauses for a moment.
"Girls are now educated, but God put a special internal ingredient in a woman's center. Our hearts pull us to our families. If I could not see my infant daughter every day, I would shrivel like a desert flower in the noonday sun."
With those dramatic words, Asma's body twirls in a circle then crumples as she portrays the look of a wilting flower.
I burst out laughing. Asma is as convincing and talented as a trained actress.
She pulls herself up, her lips forming into a sexy pout. "Jean, women are happiest at home."
I take another sip of my soda before teasing her. "Okay. Okay. You've converted me! I'll buy the thickest and heaviest veil the next time I go shopping in Riyadh. Perhaps I'll become the fourth wife of a wealthy sheik."
A frown crosses Asma's face as she drops down on the dark-blue silk sofa. She knows that I am not seeking to marry any Saudi man. She does not appreciate my attempt at humor. "Do not tease me, Jean." With a dominating personality backed by wealth, she is accustomed to obedience
Asma is a perfect vision of beauty. I had heard gossip about the benefits of her beauty at a women's party. Asma, I was told, enjoyed more offers of marriage than all of her five full sisters and eleven half-sisters combined.
Two years ago, she married an exceptionally wealthy and powerful Saudi executive involved in the oil industry. Not surprising, her husband is a third cousin on her mother's side of the family.
Again and again I have been told by Saudi men and women that a marriage between cousins is a clever idea. Such a marriage, so the thinking goes, enriches one's extended family rather than weakening it.
I wonder if Saudis will ever change their thinking on this incredibly incorrect idea. Accustomed for generations to living by rigid tradition, they often have great difficulty accepting scientific facts.
I've been told that Asma's husband, Khalid, is one of the wealthiest non-royals in the kingdom. He is more than twenty years her senior, but she tells me that she feels treasured by the wisdom of an older husband. She is extremely proud to be his only wife.
I inwardly wince as Asma complacently announces, "I follow my husband's advice on every important matter."
Asma's full lips are now pulsing with words of certainty. "I am proud to be a Saudi woman. I dislike it when people from the West discuss our lives and talk about our misery, even as they admit they have never met a Saudi woman!" She fingers the circlet of diamonds around her neck before tugging at the luscious gown wrapped loosely about her form. "And I believe that my veil protects me."
A smile breaks over my face. "Oh?"
I had heard Saudi women offer this argument many times over the past few years. To my profound bewilderment, many are convinced that the restrictive veil and numerous social restrictions protect them.
Asma relishes drama, and now her voice climbs as she counts off the arguments for her controlled Saudi life on her fingers.
"We have the best society for women. God had the perfect plan for men and women. Men are strong and women are weak. Men have their role as protectors. Women have their role as nurturers."
She snaps her fingers, eager to convert me to her way of thinking. "God made men and women so that every part of both will fit. The man's chest and belly is flat so it will not crush a woman's full chest. The male organ is a perfect match for the woman's secret place. The skin of a man is too strong to stretch and make room for babies, unlike the flexible skin of a female. After an infant is welcomed to this earth, someone must take care for it. Are men suitable for such work? No. It is a woman's job."
She pauses for a moment.
"Girls are now educated, but God put a special internal ingredient in a woman's center. Our hearts pull us to our families. If I could not see my infant daughter every day, I would shrivel like a desert flower in the noonday sun."
With those dramatic words, Asma's body twirls in a circle then crumples as she portrays the look of a wilting flower.
I burst out laughing. Asma is as convincing and talented as a trained actress.
She pulls herself up, her lips forming into a sexy pout. "Jean, women are happiest at home."
I take another sip of my soda before teasing her. "Okay. Okay. You've converted me! I'll buy the thickest and heaviest veil the next time I go shopping in Riyadh. Perhaps I'll become the fourth wife of a wealthy sheik."
A frown crosses Asma's face as she drops down on the dark-blue silk sofa. She knows that I am not seeking to marry any Saudi man. She does not appreciate my attempt at humor. "Do not tease me, Jean." With a dominating personality backed by wealth, she is accustomed to obedience
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