His name is Shari'a Law. Perhaps you've met him. He gets around. We've been living together for the past two years, Shari'a and me.
Now, of course, I'm not literally dating a legal system but that's sure what it feels like on R&R. When I go shopping and browse through all the cute short sleeve tops and skirts. I'd like to try them on but won't even bother. Why tempt myself? Shari'a wouldn't approve. Shari'a doesn't like it when I show my arms or legs. He's not so thrilled about my head being uncovered but has learned not to say anything. On holiday when I go out to restaurants I order a beer and bacon burger first thing. Shari'a doesn't like me to drink or eat pork. He's kind of a downer, in fact.
"It's your own fault," my friends say. "Move away," they say. And I should but most of the places I where I would think to go, he'd be there waiting for me. Unfortunate, but true. So, I guess I have to make peace with Shari'a and try to get along.