My Big Fat (literally) Latina Life

Being the teenager in a Catholic Mexican family was not easy. I also happened to be the middle child and the only girl. My parents were strict. The curfew for me was 9 pm. My older brother had a curfew of 12 am at my age, which he never obeyed and was never reprimanded for. Most of my friends had a curfew of midnight. I was the only one that had to be home before dark. I remember telling my parents “Well Fulanita can stay out until 12.” Of course their response to that was “Well we’re not Fulanita’s parents.” Then there was always the go ask your mom and after doing just that I’d get the go ask your dad. Go ask your dad usually meant NO.

I was 17 years old and came home past curfew one night. I wasn’t allowed a house key and always had to ring the doorbell. My parents wanted to know the exact time I arrived. This night was no different than any other. My mom opened the door in her bata, and greeted me with “que horas son estas de estar llegando?” She would then say “Sopla.” She was the human Breathalyzer. I would blow and then I’d be escorted to my room or as my friends and I joked “my cell”

My mami was always the one yelling at me until things got out of hand then my papi would come out in his tighty whities and try to control the situation. This night he didn’t have to be called out. I got the “you’re home past curfew” lecture. “Asi no se portan las muchachas decentes” she would yell. Then there was the ever so famous “Chuchena es mas obediente que tu.” Chuchena being our mascota. I could never keep quiet because well at that age I pretty much knew everything. While resongando as my mom would call it, I’d cry “It’s not fair! Joey’s curfew was midnight!” It was the same argument as always. My mom would try to end it with “Eres una libertina!” I always and I mean always had to have the last word and it was always literally one word. “WHATEVER!” The cleverest come back of my time. To my mom that was worst thing I could say. It was a sign of disrespect. She’d hang her head down disappointed in me and go back into her room.

I changed into my piyamas and went to sleep. I remember feeling little sprinkles on the back of my neck. I always slept boca abajo. I thought I may have been imagining it but I kept feeling little sprinkles. I slightly turned my head and with one eye open saw my mom standing in my doorway with her frasco of agua bendita. She was exorcising me. It was somewhat surreal to me that my mother thought I was some sort of monster. She was praying and sprinkling me with Holy water. I remember thinking to myself “I’m melting” like the wicked witch on The Wizard of Oz. I giggled to myself and went back to sleep. When I awoke there were two ceramic dragons on my windowsill warding off evil spirits.

It’s really kind of sad but funny at the same time that in my mom’s eyes I was possessed. I don’t really remember telling my friends this story when I was younger because they wouldn’t have understood. Our culture and way of living was always different than most of my friends.

Nowadays my friends and I laugh when I tell them the story because, well, they know that’s part of my big fat Latina life.