If we as a nation had a personal financial planner in this first post-devaluation Ramadan, she would be borrowing a turn of phrase from Joey: “It looks like it’s going to be a lean Ramadan in the Dragon house this year. Lean, lean, lean.”

Her prescription would be simple: Cut, cut, cut your expenses. Rip up your Ramadan shopping list the way your fur baby rips apart your favorite shoes.

• That 12-piece set of rose-gold “bismillah” napkin rings for the “start with ‘bismillah,’ end with ‘Alhumdillah’” table napkins? Cut.
• The Bohemian crystal serving set for the kushaf? Cut.
• The funky Ramadan lights you want to hang in the front yard / balcony / tree? Uhm, did you see your last electricity bill? Cut.

The Grinch who stole Christmas has sent his delegate to steal Ramadan, but we’re not listening. As anation, we refuse to hear the words “economic meltdown” in this particular month — the only thing we want melting is the cheese in our kunafa nabulseya. Pundits can sound the alarm about the risk of a recession as loud as they want — unless it’s the boom of the mudafaa el iftar, we’re not listening. And if it’s the economic End Times, we’re going to treat every iftar as if it were The Last Supper.

Everything is multiplied in Ramadan: The thawab we get for good deeds is infinite. Many believe umrah in Ramadan is the equivalent of hajj. Devotions on laylet el qadr are worth 1k nights, not one.

…but it’s not just the spiritual: Ramadan sees us all going into hyper-consumerist overdrive. This is Egypt, people, where Ramadan is the unofficial party season of the Islamic calendar. Brace yourselves for an avalanche of iftar and suhoor invitations (that you have to reciprocate). Mind numbing soaps with 10 minutes of star-studded ads for every one minute of content. Shopping lists that all but demand spouses rob a bank or seek a divorce.

The nay-sayers who claim this is the year in which to tighten our belts? Send them to my mother’s house where she can put them in a Ramadan food coma from which they won’t awake until after Eid El Fitr.

Save the date — and your big appetite. Ramadan is kryptonite for social hermits. We started getting STDs (get your minds out of the gutter) weeks ago. Don’t like your mother-in-law’s cooking? The sooner you accept that there’s no escape, the better.

You might be able to get out of your distant aunt’s iftar invitation, but there’s no skipping the company iftar. HR wants you to know that the having of fun is mandatory. Once upon a time, in the days before the float, these fairytale gatherings were hosted at five-star hotels, the Citadel or some similarly fancy-schmancy location. This year? Don’t get your hopes up. Rumor has it HR has already booked Gad as the caterer. Enjoy the tameyya with the annual lecture (Godfather style) about how “the strength of family, like the strength of an army, is in its loyalty to each other.”

Our hearts go out to the gang from the finance department. Imagine having to sit through iftar, all eyes on you, justifying (over and over again) the CEO’s decision to skip bonuses and raises this year.

The silver lining: In this year of budget cutbacks, kids and spouses won’t be welcome at the company iftar or suhoor. Good for them — good for you. You don’t want to be Meredith, do you, Mr. Poop?

Did you dodge your least-favorite coworker at the iftar? Don’t worry, you’re destined to meet tomorrow or the day after at Koueider, the official pre-iftar hotspot of Ramadan. Then, sweets secured, already late and racing through Cairo’s insane traffic, you get to run the gauntlet of Ramadan Street Ninjas. Armed with bottles of water, juice boxes, and dates, they’re determined to do their good deed for the day by throwing themselves in front of your car in the moments before you break your fast — and they’re not taking “No, thank you” for an answer. (Unless you’re willing to run them over, perhaps.) These agents of kheir mean well — nevermind whether the bottle of water they toss your way smacks you in the head or lands safely on in your spouse’s lap. Consider it your annual reminder of how the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Did you survive the traffic and Ramadan Street Ninjas? Dying to dig into the mahshi? Not so fast: Etiquette guru Ameena Shelbaya will tell you to sit properly, calmly, and have one bite at a time. Ameena, leave the table. Here, we feast like beasts, Ramadan-style.

What if you have two iftar invitations on the same day — neither of which you can decline? Apply what I call the “sour and sweet” strategy: Eat the mahshi at your in-laws’, and save room for the kunafa and tea at your aunt’s. Simple.

If you’re like us (barely able to drag yourself out of bed to gulp down a few spoons of yogurt or peanut butter before fajr) then suhoor gatherings are not for you. Whether in tents, event spaces or at house parties, there’s no showing up in your PJs to what have become shishi-foofoo events.

We’re way past 2018, folks. That’s when MAC Cosmetics Middle East was mocked for releasing a “get ready for suhoor” video, in which a makeup artist created a look on a hijab model. Back then, the cosmetics brand raised many an eyebrow for being “insensitive to the holy month.” Today’s suhoors demand you go out fully made up from head to toe.

Speaking of eyebrows: Where was MAC to save us from the huge, fat, tattooed eyebrowsthat actress Mona Zaki sports in her upcoming Ramadan drama? And lest you accuse me of being sexist: What’s with all of the fake mustaches on the small screen?

Long gone are the days when TV offered us a balanced diet of Ramadan entertainment. Does anybody else remember the days when we “made do” with three big series and some fawazeer? This year, there are nearly three dozen shows competing for your attention. And you could be forgiven for feeling there’s little difference between the big shows of each year: The herd moves from mental illness to mind-game thrillers only to arrive at Upper Egyptian vendettas.

This year’s “big idea”? It seems to be the ummdah — the small-town, Upper Egyptian mayor. Lucky us: We have Gaafar El Ummdah, Hadret El Umddah and Nelly Kareem playing an Upper Egyptian wearing a frown that goes perfectly with her black galabeya. Brace yourself for a good ride this Ramadan, Saeedi friends.

Look away from the screen for just a second and you’ll miss seeing Nelly ditch her character’s galabeya for a designer floral dress. What happened? You’re now watching ads — for soap. For food. For residential compounds. You name it. During Ramadan, ad agencies’ magic lamps conjure forth not genies, but stars like Youssra, Dorra, Tamer Hosny, Hani Ramzi — all of whom appear to grant advertisers’ wishes, whether that’s selling A/Cs, snack foods, or undergarments.

There’s a special place in hell for whoever decided it was okay to have a ratio of 10 minutes of ad time for every one minute of show content. And then the geniuses in broadcast television wonder why more and more viewers are jumping to streaming services like Netflix and Shahid?

Advertisers aren’t the only ones clamoring for our attention — charity organizations are begging for it, too. Banking on an uptick in generosity during the holy month (when the faithful typically choose to give zakat and sadaqah) charities line up celebrities every Ramadan in hope that their endorsements will lead to an uptick in donations. Is there any research out there to prove that a celeb endorsement leads to more money coming in?

(And a special note to all of the health-focused charities out there: Could you please stop using suffering children to raise money? Seriously, the end usually doesn’t justify the means.)

But as much as we complain, maybe it has always been so? Ramadana hayefedal howahowa howa(Ramadan will always be Ramadan), Yasmine Abdel Aziz and Karim Abdel Aziz would have us believe. A beautiful and unique mix of spirituality and consumerism. Of prayer and suhoor parties — and no matter how lean it gets, members of the Dragon family will always find a place at someone’s iftar table.

Happy Ramadan, everyone.

ANALYZE THIS is a regular Enterprise Weekend column by the Mother of the Resident 15 Year-old. Analyze This will be on hiatus for the month of Ramadan. See you after Eid El-Fitr, folks.