The Cracks In My Ceiling Have Been Repaired

My latest gig is at a company run predominately by Latino people.   I’m half-Mexican American, speak Spanish fluently, and in several ways have always felt like a person of color in a White Woman’s body.  A reverse Oreo. I’ve never understood grunge rock, the natural look, or why irony is such a big deal. (There is no irony in salsa or Latin culture).

However, when it comes to the choice of having children, I’m very, very…very White.  This becomes most apparent when I’m discussing my single, childless status with Latino people who inevitably ask me if I have children within the first five minutes of conversation. (White People rarely do this).  When I inform said Latino people that I don’t have children they respond with something like, “Then what, pray tell, have you been doing for 20+ years?”   (They don’t actually use the term, “Pray, tell….” does anyone?)   I’m always a little abashed.  (Who uses the word “abashed”? This blog is a subtle tribute to Oscar Wilde).

So what have I been doing all these years?  Seriously, good question.  What the hell have I been doing while Not Having Children? Watching the cracks on my ceiling grow into interesting spider shapes?  (I, actually, just had a guy repair them).  Blogging?  Not enough to equal child rearing time.

There’s a good chance that I’ve spent some good child bearing and rearing years on the dance floor.   And the one indisputable truth about dancing instead of pushing a  watermelon sized human through a hole the size of a lemon, is that dancing is infinitely better for your butt.   Especially, if you have issues in that area.   But what’s a good butt in the face of boundless love?

I think I need to spend some quality time with my Inner-Chola. Maybe get out the Aqua Net and some blue eyeshadow. (Chola circa 1985).

Just for today, I’m re-considering childlessness.

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