Tag Archives: Saudi Arabia

5 Best Things About Being Born in a Third-World Country

The official sociological term for us is “Third-Culture Kids,” people raised in a country and culture that is different from that of their parents.  According to Wikipedia, 90% of us feel out of sync with our peers, our divorce rates are historically lower, we get married later in life, and 80% of us feel like we can get along with anyone.  While I don’t know much about this, here are a few things I do know about being raised overseas:

1. I learned valuable life skills long before I should have.

I’m fairly sure I learned to drive around age 7. And the dietary needs of scorpions in captivity soon after.

2. The TB arm scar is both disgusting and awesome.

A dime-sized dent in my shoulder, makes me recognizable as someone born 3rd-world style. In America, it’s kind of like a calling card to a secret club.  I’ve been approached by two people in my time here, and asked where I grew up after noticing my ugly arm hole. I have to imagine that people with bigger, nastier, even more noticeable scars get asked this question more often. Also, people like to poke it and it’s a fun conversation piece.

3. I don’t have to [probably shouldn’t] give blood.

The list of Mad Cow-infested countries is long and boring. I just assume I have been to one of them and/or had a childhood friend from one that might have infected me.

4. My “rough” stories might top yours.

Your dog ran away when you were 5? During the Gulf War my dad used to send my terrier, Rocky, outside after Iraqi air strikes to test for chemical weapons.

5. I can never be President. Thank God.

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Blogging for Peace and Law & Order SVU Reruns

Welcome to my blog.

I’ve felt the shame of being a blogless “creative person” for too long, so today I introduce, AreYouWearingMyPants?

Realizing that no one wants to hear my stupid opinions on film, Middle East politics, LOST’s unanswered questions, Marxist feminism or anything else intelligent, I decided to just do what I do – tell stories. My stories stem from a moderately colorful childhood — I was raised in country where public beheadings are still a casual Friday morning activity (Saudi Arabia), then moved to a tiny desert island that less than 1% of all Americans have heard of (Bahrain), then to my real “home” where I was kicked in the back of the knees every day in gym class by a boy who later went on to play in the NFL, and somewhere along the line transitioned into a fairly normal adulthood tinged with some odd luck.

I hope you enjoy what you read. And if no one reads this blog, I can still look at it as a great time-saving tool for the future. When I am elderly and my grandchildren are up in my face at bedtime for stories, I can turn around slowly in my wheelchair and snarl, “Why don’t you go READ… MY… BLOG?” I’m making good use of my time today so my 80-year-old decrepit self can watch as many Law & Order SVU reruns as it wants.

No, I will be a lovely grandmother.


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