Roast Menu

Remember that story from my childhood, the traumatic event that involved my aunt throwing sand in my face and calling me ugly?
Well, it's always an interesting time when I have to attend her parties... which aren't often... maybe once every five years.
Yesterday was time to pay my dues.

My aunt is married to my father's brother (hence why she's my aunt), but she's also my mom's cousin. Whenever I attend her parties, every single person there is related to me.
While I love my mother's side of the family... her maternal side, the Garcias, are interesting ladies. My aunt is one of these Garcias.
While they're hardworking, devout, loyal women... with many more virtues, they're shallow AS FUCK. Well... I don't know if you can call it "shallow" but more like... vain. They place far too much importance on physical beauty.
They're the ones who continuously "complimented" me with the whole "You'd be SO MUCH prettier if you wore a girdle!" line.
My mental traumas regarding beauty? Yep, placed there by these no-talller-than 5'3" little Garcia women who worship beauty... and let me know I was inferior since the time I was four and Baby D was born to prove that she was perfection, and I was perpetually defective.

Mom, while she knows these outspoken, vain women have a way of insulting me, still loves being with them. And I let her have that. They remind her of her momma-- I'll sit there and listen to the new bullshit they have to say to me, if that means my mom will be getting hammered and singing-along with her Garcias.
I don't mean to mention this as way to get other to feel sorry for me-- I hate that feeling in the first place-- but merely as a way to get you to... experience some of the... somewhat ludicrous shit I quietly listen to. Maybe my abrasive nature becomes a bit more understandable.

Stuff on the menu this time? Well, here are my favorites:
1. Except for you.
Entering the party, my aunt's mom greeted us. She seemed very excited to see us. I was the last one she greeted.
"Oh my goodness! You look... wow! Good job!" she said.
Holy shit... is she being nice?! HOLY SHIT!
"Go, help yourselves! We have a ton of tacos out back! Eat, eat away! This is a party!" She said.
As I walked past her, she tapped my shoulder and whispered in my ear "Except for you, since it's obvious you're on a diet... No food for you. Wouldn't want to ruin what you have going on right now."
SO CLOSE! You were so close, lady.
Seriously, I was speechless. I was in no way on the verge of tears, because I was too busy trying not to laugh cynically at her comment.
Some might say "Relax, AnoMALIE, she obviously meant it as a joke!" But trust me, I've known this woman for 27 years, I know when she's being serious. She was being serious.
I ate THREE slices of cake later. Fuck passive-aggressive comment. I licked the frosting clean on ALL THREE.
Fuck you, lady!... ugh... sugar... headache... ouch. Stupid.

2. Kim K.
As I was making line to grab my motherfucking tacos (I eat, damnit!!!), one of the younger Garcias with her 15 year old daughter intercepted me.
"Oh my GAWD! AnoMALIE! Looking great, baby! We were just talking about you! We agreed you look just like... like... what's her name, mija?" My cousin asked her daughter.
"Kim... mom..." said the girl, gritting her teeth... surely mentally cursing her mom.
"Oh yes! Kim Kardashian!" said the lovely Garcia.
"Whoa... haha... not at all," I said. Only thing I have similar to Kim are my eyebrows... and anyone can get those shits. "Probably just the eyebrows... because I thread them."
"Hahaha! Yes! You are of the 'dark-version' Garcias. We're more of the blonde, less-hairy, European-ish Garcias. And what about that badunkadunk (this is how I know you're trying too hard to hold on to your youth, ma'am...)?! I know none of us have anything resembling a butt! I hear she has cellulite... which... you know, is the only way we'd all be similar," the cousin says, winking at me.
::Sigh::
I asked for it.

And to be clear on this subject: it does flatter the shit out of me to be told I look like his chick.

Definitely the eyebrows.
Definitely not the nose or lips or hair or ass 

I find her to be quite pretty, actually. I'd never call her ugly... even if her fingers are... ehhh:

To be associated with her, I can't help but immediately recall her sextape (GIIIIIRL! Where do I begin? First off, I wouldn't be fucking Ray J. Kanye? Maybe. Ray J? Hell naw. Forget that scrub)... and her divorce scandal (Shallow? Vapid? Insipid? Impulsive? Huhhh?).
This also invites everyone to argue with the physical comparison.... which... you know... I never come out clean... because family loves to drive home the fact that I am NOT pretty.
It's just asking for trouble. So just don't say anything.

3. Short, nice interlude... almost.
After round one of the harassment, I found myself sitting next to an in-law to the family. We were sitting next to each other for a while, so the chit-chat began.
Mom mentioned how my brother was living in Juarez, and how my sister had recently moved to Chicago.
I was taking a sip of my margarita when the in-law went ahead and interrupted me.
"So how old are you, sweetheart? Does your mom know you're sneaking that margarita?"
She proceeded to take a swig of her water bottle when I cleared my throat to answer her.
"I'm 27, Ma'am..."
She choked on her water.
"27?! Oh my god, I'm not even kidding you, I swore you were 19, maybe 20! How in the world do you do it?!"
I laughed nervously. She was being serious, her face was red with embarrassment.
Just as I was going to answer her, to keep her from feeling silly, (she HAD been a nice lady the entire afternoon... and I found this to be the best compliment of my life) my loud-mouth cousin butted-in.
"Girl's 27, single, biology degree sitting at home. Can you believe it?!"
Do you get PAID to do this to me? Fuck...
I shrugged and smiled.
Lots of water, no smoking, no drinking, lots of sleep, no fucking... constant suicide contemplation... it's like the devil grants you eternal youth upon hearing you want death above all else. 
...This among other factors, ma'am.

I'm convinced they do this to me in attempts to be funny... and to give me a backbone... and to make me hate life.

4. One last time.
As I finished up my two carne asada tacos and two birria tacos, my dad's younger (and dumbass) sister sat in the empty seat next to me.
She had ten tacos on her plate.
"Let's eat, Mija, so people don't say we're skinny because we don't!"
One last time: I'm not skinny.

This particular aunt used to be much chubbier, but recently did some diet where she basically purged everything she ate... so... uh... yeah.
I know I didn't have this when I wouldn't eat:

Too bad my Spain-insipred nails aren't visible.
I'm quite proud of my nails.

So don't worry about me, tia, all's well over here.

Yep.
I ended the night after listening to my drunk parents and uncles drunk-karaoke for three hours... proceeding to drive my parents home at two in the morning.
Fun shit.

All quickly improved this afternoon after a little bit of soccer, of course. Nothing like watching France lose at something... though it wasn't definitive. Sweden just left the wonderful job of humiliating the French to my boys, the Spaniards. Ohhhh yeahhhh.
Fuck. France.