Frum N' Flipping

Straight- "stick straight"- hairstyles were in fashion when I was in ninth grade. On my trek from home to school I ogled the glossy photos pinned up in the local hairdresser’s windows- models with choppy haircuts, layers of varying length, all falling in perfect symmetrical lines. My torturous attempts at blow-drying resulted in puffy, frizzy, waves. Straightness was out of my reach except for on those rare visits to the hairdresser for a cut- from which I emerged with glossy locks, content until I couldn’t drag out the days any longer, my hair needed to be washed, and returned to its natural wavy state. I counted the years until I’d be able to wear a wig. I already knew which wig I would choose; it would be fall below my shoulder in beautiful straight layers. I didn’t count enough years. Fast forward a decade, and I was still making do with my own hair. A lot happened in the meantime. I discovered the wonders of the straightening iron, and finally straight hair could b...

The seats are all taken. I stand next to TCO, both of us clutching the hand rail. Through the front window we see old ladies leaving the Shuk with their shopping trolleys and cutting in front of the traffic. The bus crawls along Aggripas street, the driver trying not to run over any of the old ladies. Now before I continue, I better clarify one thing. I'm skinny. That's my body build, and even 6 months of no exercise hasn't changed that. We're on our way back from a lunch date, so I'm wearing a new tunic top from my TJmaxx spree in the US, My shoes and hat also match, and I'm feeling pretty fashionable. Then a middle aged woman makes eye contact with me. She's sitting in a single seat by the door. She asks me I want to take her chair. I shake my head. "I'm fine." I say. I wonder why she's asking. She's older than me by at least two decades. She stands up, and gestures to her seat . "Maybe she's getting off the bu...

"I wear a hat at night." She says it matter-of-factly. "You wear a hat to bed?" I try not to sound shocked. She's not Chasidic, she's not even Chareidi. It seems rather extreme to me. "Yes, I decided to keep my hair covered at all times." That's the point when naughty questions pop into my head, like when exactly does she show her hair, but I bite them back, being the nice frum girl/woman I am. "Oh." I say instead. "I don't cover my hair at home." "Unless we have guests of course." I add. I've got my reputation to mantain. "Of course" She says. "I mean it's a good thing, covering your hair all the time, I guess… There's that story with the woman who merited torah scholar sons because the walls of her house never saw her hair…" It's a Bais Yaacov classic. I always hated it, but that part I leave out. The conversation leaves me thinking. I don't cover my h...

It was too late. I was naked when I found out the truth. I clutched the towel around me and stared at her in horror. I was trapped. Only I could make such a stupid mistake. I missed all the clues- the sandy path that was longer than I remembered; the sign post for the Mikvah Keilim I didn't recall; the type of women inside- I should have known something was wrong when I saw the women. Nine of them, lined up in a row, one empty chair in the middle that they seemed to have saved for me, ready to interrogate me; the questions- how long I'd been married, how many times I'd been here before; the blessings that I wouldn't need to be back the next month. "I've been married six years and this is my fifth time at the Mikvah" one woman proudly told me. I tried to do the math in my head, while the other women congratulated her. The woman sitting behind the till wore a thick turban. She wasn't Simcha, the Mikvah attendant I'd come back here for. I'd ...

I owe a big apology to my readers. I disappeared, and it wasn't very nice of me. All I can say is that planning a wedding sure takes a lot of time. But at least I'm back now :-) And I missed you! One of the big differences with married life is the sudden secrecy that veils your life. There are two of you now, and the things that go on between you should remain between you, should be private, intimate, told to no one, shared with no one. That's right, that's good, that makes sense. And it really is wonderful, being together, sharing a life and a home and a future with someone you love, who loves you. It's so good you don't know how you survived so long on your own. It's like tasting heaven. It feels like a dream you don't ever want to wake up from. Yet still the secrecy bothers me. I wish I'd been more prepared for the halachic aspects of marriage, the physical aspects of marriage. Nobody told me, because nobody talks about it. Ten sessions wit...

When to tell him? When to share the scandalous news? Will it scare him off, make him run away? But I'm going to have to share it with him, at some point. 'Him' being whoever I one day am destined to marry. Marriage is about trust, and has no room for secrets. The question is- when? The answers I got on Twitter ranged from: A. After 4 dates - "I would get a Kosher phone, just I need the Internet for Facebook, and for the anonymous account I have on Twitter, and for this blog I write. But aside for that I barely use the internet." To: B. After five years of marriage , or three kids. (Whichever comes first?) - "By the way dear, you should check out my site, I've been sharing there a lot of juicy details about our marriage. But don't worry, it's anonymous. Oh is that the baby crying?" Why am I even worried? Any guy who's right for me will be cool with the idea of me writing a blog. Right? Not quite. The real issue isn...

I could buy a Sheitel and a ring, and move to a place where no one knows me. I could say my husband is a Masmid, and learns in Kollel night and day, and thus explain away his absence. I could have a baby, and raise him on my own. I could stop waiting for the right man, and skip to the next stage. I could be a mother, before I'm a wife. I won't, of course. But sometimes I want to. I told my theory to the guy I was dating, when we sat on the grass one night. "First you think marriage is about having a permanent boy friend, and it's not." Teenagers also want to get married. They want a boy to give them red roses and heart shaped candies. They want a boy to tell them he loves them. They want the romance, and the relationship. But marriage should be about giving, not taking. They aren't there yet. If they do get married their relationship will have to mature, after the Chuppah, for it to last. "Then you think marriage is about giving to each other, b...

When my father died, I thought I was covered for life. I'd paid my dues. One hardship per person, doesn't it work like that? "You'll see that from now on life will go smoothly for you", said one illustrious Rebbetzin. "God is the father of Yesomim." The other rabbis said. "You'll have special Siyata Dishmaya in all you do." When my years of dating don't bring me where I want them to, I can't figure it out. Making aliyah, tick. Losing father, tick. Older single stuck in the "shidduch crises", surely that can't be meant for me too? I resign myself to my not-yet-perfect life. I just need to get married. One more trial to get through, and I'm home free. Then life will be perfect. Happily ever after. Sure, I'll have to deal with Parnassah, and Shalom Bayis, and Chinuch Banim. But that's OK. That's life. I can't wait. Around me, my friends and peers marry. Ecstatic weddings followed by marital bliss. They...

When you like him, he doesn't like you. And when he likes you, you try your hardest but simply don't like him. And then someone comes along, and you actually like him. And guess what? He seems to like you too. And you're both so shocked, that you marry each other. That's my grandma's take on how people get married. I'm still waiting for it to happen.

"I'm not wearing my best dress. Because I'm saving my best dress for your wedding" Says my 6 year old niece. Sweet. "You're so silly", her cousin says to her. "It will be too small for you by the time she's married, for sure!" WTH? It the forecast so dismal? "No. How can you say that? She can have a Shidduch tommorow, and bingo be married!" Pipes up another little voice at the Shabbos table. Thanks for the faith, darling.

I feel sorry for my husband. Not because the first time he'll see me wearing glasses, with no makeup, it will probably be too late. Not because I'm capable of getting lost in my own neighborhood, and anyone relying on my map reading skills is sure to get led astray. Not even because I'm a secret blogger, and as one commenter put it "won't your husband mind you sharing personal details of your life". (More on the blogging when married topic another time). No, all that he'll be aware of on dates. I began to feel sorry for my future husband, really and truly sympathetic, when I cleaned out the family refrigerator on Erev Shabbos. I filled a garbage bag with rotting vegetables and decaying dairy products. I scooped out chunks of solidified pasta, prepared for dinners long gone, and piled high in the sink their former containers. I used up an entire roll of paper towel, scrubbing weeks of acquired gunk off the shelves. I wouldn't have done it, I wo...

19th Century- Yente the Shadchan. 20th Century-The Resume. For the 21st century- The Shidduch DVD! More graphic, more interactive, more in depth coverage. Wait, should I be telling you this before I've patented it? OK, I confess, I've never actually written a shidduch resume. (The first time I heard of them, I was sure it was a joke.) I did write out an email with all my "info", a couple of weeks ago. A woman at work wanted "details". Plus the required phone numbers of friends, family friends, and rabbis. So I wrote it all out, and pressed send. A few days later, someone else at work wanted the same "info". "No problem!", I said. This time all I needed to do was press forward. So here I am, pressing forward every couple of days, and thinking I've got the "finding out" stage covered. Then it struck me. Text documents are so out of date. I mean, how much can words in black and white convey? What every girl in Shidduchim nee...