Mexican Women

Camping? Sure if she can wear heels.

Riding a horse? Yeah, if you can do that with heels.

Mexican women tend to wear heels for all occasions. Many of us are not as tall as we would like to be.

Mexican women also like bright shiny earrings that dangle from our ear lobes. We also tend to choose bright colors for our clothing and then put the dresses away because we think we look garish in them.

Mexican women tend to like to cook. We are frequently fairly traditional homemaker-wise. We breast feed our babies, do the dishes, and iron our husband's clothes.

But Mexican women have bad tempers. We are likely to stick you with a knife if you cheat on us. We will then cry and clean up your wound when you swear you'll never do it again.

Mexican women are proud. You won't see us begging for attention. If our boyfriend or husband leaves us, we would never let him have the satisfaction of knowing we were hurt.

Mexican women are fun in bed. We are as likely to laugh as to moan. Mexican women don't take it all that seriously. It's supposed to be fun.

Mexican women are deeply spiritual. We may deny being religious, but watch our faces when the white smoke comes out of the Vatican announcing a new pontiff.

Milestones and Mini-Skirts

This photo was taken in 1976, the year I turned 30.

I was starting college for the first time and I enrolled in night classes. I was scared to death. I really had no reason to think I would do well in school, but I wanted to try it.

I was also engaged to be married, (again). I had no reason to suspect the marriage would be successful, but I wanted to try it. I really hoped to give my crazy life some stability and my children some security.

The two things (school and a marriage) collided a little. I unexpectedly fell a little in love with my English professor, (a very soulful and sensitive young Muslim man), about two weeks before I was due to get married. He and I had a "moment" or two, but I did go ahead with the wedding.

(Although my professor and I stopped being an "item" after I was married, surprisingly I still got an "A" in his class.)

I married a man 23 years my senior, and a high-level manager at Chevron. My husband was also a cowboy, a hunter, and a general outdoors-man. I thought I was the luckiest woman in the world despite the fact that I was not an "outdoors-type" woman.

Little did I know that I was perhaps making the biggest mistake of my life. My new husband wanted me to change completely right after the wedding. No more mini-skirts! No more make up! No more high heel shoes! (You can see where this is going, I'm sure.)

I was working full-time, going to school 4 nights a week, and trying to fulfill wildly divergent roles. I was a mother, a new wife, a student and a working woman. Something had to give, and it did. Not only did I continue to dress as I pleased, I also neglected the laundry and cooking because of my heavy load at school.

My husband became a brutal drunken lout. He was also physically abusive enough to land me in the hospital on more than one occasion. I had experienced rocky relationships in the past, but broken ribs were never an issue before.

I quietly arranged for my children to spend the year with their dad and his wife. They were happy to do so. In the meantime, I considered putting an ax through my husband's head when he was sleeping, or shooting him with one of the many guns he kept around the house. (I could always claim I thought he was a prowler.) Instead, with the help of a dear new friend, (who happened to be a lawyer), I filed for divorce.

My husband did not take this well. I had to get a restraining order to keep him from getting anywhere near me. I was actually afraid that he would kill me as he had threatened numerous times.

The good news is, I finished my first full year of college with a 3.8 GPA. I sold my wedding ring and got enough money to take my children to Disneyland for a week, and I got a promotion at work.

My dear new friend turned into a boyfriend, and yes, I am playing around a bit with the timing of this relationship transformation. My new boyfriend did not mind my mini-skirts and high heels in the slightest.

Imagine that.

I Cannot Look At Train Wrecks

I cannot look at train wrecks.

If I see an ambulance and a police car, or paramedics at my neighbor's house, I move away from the window. I will call later to see if I can help in some way. But I won't watch someone in distress being carried from their home.

If I see a twisted wrecked car along the side of the highway, I immediately avert my eyes. I am not drawn to tragedy. Actually, I go to great lengths to avoid the "unpleasant".

The news is full of images of damaged bodies. I can't stand looking at them. I feel just as strongly about gazing at damaged souls. When I caught a glimpse of Britney Spears wildly chopping off her hair, I had to turn away. When I saw Anna Nicole Smith at an awards ceremony and obviously drugged, I couldn't look at her. I can't watch Lindsey Lohan and her exploits. Charlie Sheen is the latest poster child for troubled souls. I can't bear to watch him being interviewed because it's too sad.

I think I'm afraid of these horrifying and humiliating things and that's why I can't take part in watching. I know all too well what it feels like being carried on a gurney to an ambulance after an injury. I hated seeing faces at the windows watching me.

I also know what it's like to "lose it". I've screamed and cried and thrown things in rage, and in despair. I hate that there were witnesses to my degradation, but relieved I wasn't doing it on camera.

I've also been drunk. I'm just glad there were no cameras to record my behavior, or maybe I should call it "misbehavior". Nobody is at their best after too much to drink.

I had a boyfriend once who was drawn to my "crazy". He had a dark soul and loved the darkness in me. The worse I got, the more he loved me. In the end, he would have destroyed us both.

I do not love darkness nor do I embrace it. I love the light. So I really cannot look at train wrecks.