Truth Or Dare, A Madonna Cycles In The Middle East

Dressed like a ballerina at a Texas rodeo, I continue my pedaling quest through Iran longing to arrive at the Turkish border.  Iran is a great place for cycling; nice people and good roads, blah, blah, blah. However, the country is riddled with rules and restrictions.  It has been weeks now, since I realized, that if I was resident here, I would of no doubt been shackled to the sin slammer by the age of three just for existing.

I shatter most culturally appropriate rules by breathing.  Local women are forbidden by law to ride bicycles in a lot of regions. As a female tourist, I am overlooked.  With my natural rebellion brewing like a witch’s cauldron, the mandatory headscarf law for women in Iran has left me with a deeply seeded desire to moon someone my bare bum. Or, at least run around completely naked while my sexy contraband hair flaps freely in the near winter air.  And, don’t even talk to me about how many times I have had orgasmic dreams about drinking beer. Alcohol is also prohibited here.

Yesterday, I cycled my head into a tree branch and left my headscarf flapping in the breeze. I stopped Pandemic, the repressed the magic bicycle and retrieved the whole head contraption in front of many onlookers.   I had slaughtered the legal dress code, commonly not liked by many women who live here.  Funny thing is, this was not seen as an act of heroic fashion warrior ship.  Nor, was it seen as a triumphant hair freeing gesture of sovereignty in a country that insists my sexy hair be contained behind zippered doors.   Women must be kept under cover like a prized jack in the box because the men in public cannot control their sexual desires, or so they say. 

No, my mangy mane was snarled at by onlookers and smiled at by one brave soul.  My heroine, a female taxi driver, dressed in a burka (without a face covering) threw me a smile so crisp and bright, it could have blown the leaves right off of that branch that had captured my dangling headscarf.

After my headscarf arbor work, I decided it was time for a new girly girl fashion plan.  Therefore, I purchased a chador ($2usd), a head coverage that resembles a balaclava. A head corset made of stretchy spandex sure to curb the attraction value of my sexy shaggy locks, hair by the way which hasn’t been combed in a decade. Therefore, it’s probably a good thing to keep my shaggy sexy locks enveloped behind a chador.  At least until I cycle into Turkey while swilling Wild Turkey as I run around naked looking for beer.