My Spot (Part 2)

What happened after that? Well not much really, at least at first. Both of us pretended like nothing happened, going about our lives as normal. For me, the only real difference at first was that I read more of my husband's books. Of course, this time only after getting his permission.

I know this may sound like a simple thing, but as unworthy as I was back then, this was major. Back then, what was mine was mine, and what was my husband's was also mine. I’m sure you know of women like that before and well…that was me. Looking back, it’s a minor miracle he didn’t left me for a more proper woman.

I think of it as a gift from God because the discovery of Islam did help us in our relationship, even back in those early days.  We now had something to talk about. I was curious about why my husband has decided to take an interest in Islam and as we were talking, I found myself more and more interested in it as well. As we talk, we would also talk about other random stuff and before we knew it, we actually started “talking”.

We spoke about each other and our lifeless relationship. We spoke about how things had gotten routine and discovered that neither of us liked it. It’s another sign of my worthlessness as a wife that I never knew my husband thought the same way I did. However as we continued talking, we naturally talked about how we were going to break out of our cycle. And just as naturally, the one thing that reconnected us was the thing that we decided to do together.

I found out that my husband has been a semi-regular attendee at a local mosque and he invited to go with him on his next visit. Of course I agreed but I had no idea what was expected of me so I went out of my way to drive past the mosque a few times during the week to observe the people. On the day of the visit itself, I dressed conservatively in a loose long sleeve shirt with a shirt that reaches my feet. I even wore a headscarf.

I was overdressed. Although all the women there wore the headscarf, not all of them conform to the dress code I read in my husband’s books. There were girls there who wore jeans and tight-fitting shirts, and when the sermon started, a few of the younger girls were more interested in their iPhones than what the iman was saying.

That however was something I can understand. The sermon by the iman was in a way pretty disappointing. He spoke about honor and living correctly according to Islam but his sermon was more like a speech than anything else. I didn’t really went to the mosque with any expectations but to me, the visit was a disappointment.

When I told my husband this, instead of being disappointed, he was silently pleased. Oh, my husband tried his best to hide it but when you are married for so long, you kind of know when your partner was happy. Now the correct reaction of a proper wife was to keep quiet and let your husband tell you about the situation when he felt it was time. However back then I was not a proper wife and immediately called him out on it.

Naturally, my husband wasn’t pleased but being the worthless wife that I was, I couldn’t let it go. After an hour of badgering, he finally lost his temper and gave me a good spanking. If this sounded abrupt, it is because it was.

I was in the midst of another tirade when he just calmly grabbed my arm, dragged me to the sofa, sat down, and placed me over his knee. He didn’t say a thing and I was so shocked, I didn’t fight back. In hindsight, that was probably a good thing as the spanking he gave might have been worse. As it was, my husband pulled up my shirt, pulled down my panties and firmly gave me twenty with his open hand, alternating between both cheeks of my bottom.

I think even back then, I knew that on some level I deserved it because I took my punishment stoically without crying. Some may argued that it was shock that allowed me to take my rightful punishment without bawling, but I don’t think so. When my husband was done, he let me up and grabbed my arm again. This time he firmly pulled me to my spot.

In case you were wondering, all this happened in the living room and my spot is a corner of the room near the TV. My husband made me faced the corner with my hands holding up my skirt. He refused to allow me to pull up my panties, instead ordering me to open up my legs. With my skirt high, my panties down, and my bottom red, I looked like a naughty girl who had just being punished.

Which was the case and I have the photo to prove it. My husband took a picture and the embarrassing photo was a constant reminder that I have to do better. In fact, taking pictures during “reflection time” is an established practice in our household. Whenever I got a punishment, my husband would put me in my spot and take pictures to prove what a worthless wife I am.

I didn’t know how long I was in the corner but it was long enough that when my husband finally allowed me to move from my spot, I had reflected on my actions and knew my mistake. This time I knelt in front of my husband and begged him to forgive me, deliberately not asking about why he was so silently pleased about me not liking my trip to the mosque.

It was the right thing to do. My husband petted me on the head and told me the truth. He was only a semi-regular mosque attendee because he was a member of a group of individuals who practiced a more extreme version of the Koran. He had brought me to the mosque as he wanted to slowly bring me into the religion.

Yes, my husband was thinking of my well-being and what did I do? I shamefully badgered him instead of respectfully asking him like I was supposed to; another sign of what a worthless wife I was. My husband say if I wished to, he would introduced me to his friends but warned that I would probably be shocked by them. I would admit that I was unsure if I was ready but I also knew that my husband wanted to meet the group. So I said I would love to meet them.

Looking back, this was the day when I truly started to become a wife; the day when I started to think of my husband’s feelings and wishes instead of my own. It may seem like a natural thing to most but back then, I cared only about my own wishes and feelings and this was a big step.

The next day, my husband bought me an outfit which he said I must wear to meet his friends. I’d read enough of his books to know it was an outfit that followed the rules of the Hijab. Hijab is the proper Islamic dress code, which is primarily intended to safeguard the modesty, dignity and honor of men and women. By wearing Hijab, women protect themselves from any lustful gaze or act that may expose them to temptation or harassment of any kind. On the other hand, it protects men from indulgence in vices and unlawful acts. The outfit my husband gave me came with a niqab which I had never wore before.

Thank Allah for Youtube.

Following instructions from a video I found on the site, I started by putting on the dress. A long sleeved dress two sizes too big, the high-collared dress covered me from my neck to the soles of my feet and came with a hood. I tied my long tresses into a tight bun before wrapping it up with a white cloth which cover almost all of my head except my face. Once my cloth was tightly in place, I pulled up the hood over my head and then put on the face-veil.

The niqab had a strap that I used to wrap around my forehead. Once I tied it in place, the veil flowed down over my face leaving only my eyes visible. Not only was my face covered, the veil also kept my hood secured on my head.

Like I said before, I had never wore this before and immediately complained to my husband that the dress was too big, too plain and rough. I have seen Islamic dresses before and they came in a variety of colors with various cuttings and styles. The one given to me was plain black with no designs on it whatsoever. I looked like a black ghost and I also found that the outfit was uncomfortable. The fabric of the outfit felt rough and was of low quality.

Yes, I was an ungrateful worthless wife. Instead of thanking my husband, I actually dared complained about the dress he had so kindly gave me. Again showing what a kind and gentle man he was, instead of punishing me for my outburst, my husband kindly explained that this was all deliberate. The rules of hijab state that a woman's clothing must cover the whole body and must not be tight or transparent. That was why the dress was so big and the fabric was rough to prevent the wearer from being too comfortable. I still remembered his exact words, “Women are creatures of sin whose whole body is all awrah.”

Awrah are sensitive parts of the body that a woman must cover in front of non-Muslims but I have never heard or read of the whole of a woman’s body being awrah before. Not only that, my kind husband now says that all women were creatures of sin!

It was a great shock but I was the one who told my husband I wanted to meet his friend so I knew it was too late to turn back now. When the weekend back, I wore the outfit again and went with my husband to meet his friends. It would be a life-changing day.