Face plant n. a serious fall which culminates in one landing on his/her face; the involuntary act of plant impersonation with one’s face as its roots; from the colloquial = ‘when trying harder does not make you a winner, but makes it funnier for others to watch you lose’.

What excited Toobaa about Shelina Zahra Janmohamed’s memoir, ‘Love in a Headscarf‘, was that she didn’t have to read it to know that it would be all the superb things it could be: witty, relevant and familiar. It was enough to know that an abundantly common experience and oft thought tedious process was being, by and large, universally acknowledged and celebrated. The story of many was being told – even a bit of hers.

Her own voyage was, however, hardly characterised by the austere head dress, although austerity was intended as a sort of obligatory form of transport from freedom to Freedom 2.0 (and a head dress was worn at all times). No, the prevailing flavour of her expedition was a fizzing in the nose, a scrunched up forehead and blotted out vision as she metaphorically, verbally and physically face planted her way (in an assortment of manners) through each and every alleged-able bachelor her Mother could filter through the customary barbed wire sieve. Until, of course, she ran out.

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An unmistakable face plant.

An unmistakable face plant.