Friday, January 21, 2011

Ethnically Ambiguous Incubator

Strangers tell me my kids don't look like me.  And everywhere I go I'm accused of being some other race besides Half-Breed-Mexi-Mormon.  Sometimes I wonder whether I exist AT ALL!

Just call me NONDESCRIPT INCUBATOR, why don't ya! 

My offspring were baked and hatched looking mostly like LITTLE WHITE KIDS, of all things

That's why I'm SO INSECURE AND FEEL THE NEED TO POST PICTURES OF MYSELF EVERYWHERE AND also fix the rear view mirror so I can always see my reflection rather than the boring cars behind me!

People WALK ALL OVER me with their ethnic mal-assumptions!

When I went to Italy people thought I was Italian.  BELLA!  BELLA! shouted short brown men in the streets of Venice.  (Apparently it's a popular name over there...)

When my husband met me he only liked me because he thought I was Polynesian.  Not kidding.

When I went to Canada people thought I was Canadian, eh.

When I go to Mexico people call me "gringa" even though I can dance Latina booty circles around any Full Breed and eat at random roadside taco stands without getting sick.

True Story That Happened Today:

My parents paid me REAL LIVE MONEY! 

I booked it to the first nail salon I could find for an Emergency Pedicure.

The place was owned and operated by a Vietnamese family.

It went something like this.

Them:  "Are you Asian?"

Me:  "No.  I'm actually half Mexican."

Them:  "You have black hair like Asian.  You color your hair?"

Me:  "No.  My hair is black.  It grows like this."   (I didn't tell them about the Sexy Box Color. It's our little secret...)

There was a lot of Vietnamese banter as they examined my eyes, hair, teeth, gums and hooves. I neighed. 

Them:  "You maybe have Asian blood in distant ancestors...  You cut nails too short.  When you cut?  They don't grow fast.   Only slow."

They INSISTED I was Asian even AFTER I said I was Mexi!

A couple of my children and husband came into the shop to check my progress.

Them:  "Those YOUR children?"

Me:  "Yes."

Them:  "They no look like you.  They look like HIM." 

There was pointing at Mr. Pistol, more Vietnamese discussion, gesturing at me and LOUD LAUGHTER! 

It seems my Vietnamese friends found the lack of family resemblance hilarious.

I felt competely inadequate both because I my kids sprung forth from my womb looking little like me and also because I don't speak Vietnamese.

(I HATE it when people talk about me in a language I can't understand... like French, any Asian dialect or Red Neck.)

Another true story that happened today:

  I took my 3 daughters to get their hair cut.  (Maya was elated to have her hair washed in a fancy sink for the first time ever.)


Here is an example.

I obviously do NOT have gobs and gobs of amazing, curly blah blah blah hair.   

The chick cutting Bella's hair looked at me blankly and said,

"WELL OBVIOUSLY NOT FROM ME!" I screamed.  "Thanks for rubbing it in!"

I kicked her really hard and refused to tip even after she spent countless hours flat ironing.

So you see my dilemma, Yes?

When someone sees a beautiful black woman she can say,

"Now THAT'S a gorgeous black woman!"

When a lovely Latina lady hynopizes you with her hips you can say,

"Aye Mami!  Rosita is SMOKIN'!"

But when I enter a room I am accused of being a Greek Goddess!
(Assuming, of course, the audience in question is Greek.)

Life is so unfair.