A Favorite Bedtime Story

I often wonder about what my children will remember from their childhood.

Any sweet memories I have of being little all involve my abuela. My grandmother is the one who raised me and when I think of the days of being a small child, it is her face I see and her voice I hear.

Bedtime was a favorite part of my day; my abuela made it that way. As it grew dark outside, my grandmother would gather my younger siblings and she’d set us all in one bathtub to soak while she’d watch over us and sing a sweet Spanish song.

She’d help us dry off and get into our pajamas, and when we were ready for bed, my grandmother would have us stand on our beds as she’d tightly twirl a blanket around us. We’d giggle as we’d be wrapped up tighter than a moth in a cocoon.

After we were washed and dried and wrapped, she’d lay us down and begin to tell us a story. Since my grandmother came to this country when she was almost 60-years-old, all of her stories were richly Latin.

There was one tale in particular that I begged for each night. I barely remember the full story, but I do remember how I loved to hear my abuela tell it. It was about a little frog who lived in a stream and a little girl that came to the river to wash her family’s clothes.

I always imagined myself as that little girl. This little girl thought herself very ugly, and each day as she’d wash the clothes, she’d cry over her misfortune of not being born beautiful and her tears would fall into the stream and be carried down the river.

One day this little girl’s tears made their way to the frog that lived in the water. This frog also felt he was ugly.  He was so moved by the little girl’s pain and understood her unhappiness so well, that he made her beautiful. When the little girl saw her beautiful reflection in the stream, she was so happy at how lovely the frog had made her that she picked him up in her hand, and not caring that he was ugly, kissed him.

Her kiss turned him into a  handsome young man and together they were happy and never lonely again.

Making Memories

I have such a rich, full memory of these times with my abuela, and it’s that reminder of how only 15 minutes in a day can turn into a memory my children will talk about fifty years from now, that keeps me from never saying no when my youngest asks me to sit and read with him.

No matter how busy I am, how many dishes there are in the sink, how many baskets full of laundry to be folded,  I never say no.

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Un poquito mas:

1. Soap and Memory
2. Questioning Latino Terms of Endearment
3. soy de tortillas y tamales

OK, if we’re talking about wanting bilingual toys for our kids, let me say this:

This Latina mom definitely looked for bilingual toys and dolls, but did ban the daughter’s grandparents from buying la nena a Spanish-singing little furry red dude. I didn’t care how well he habla-ed el espanish, no way, was that doll coming into my house.

So, I am only sort of like the Latina moms surveyed by BabyCenter en Español about their toy-buying habits.

The survey, released yesterday, found:

• Only 5% of the 400 respondents picked dolls with features and skin color that matched their family, but 16% looked for bilingual toys.
• 50% of the moms chose musical toys like drums, pianos and guitars. (At my house there long has been an accessible basket of musical instruments and I care not how loud it gets, as long as she bangs around on something.)
• And, it looks like we shop often, mi’jas. Twenty-one percent (21%) of the mamis buy toys every.single.month. Guau. Five percent buy something every week. (Are you wondering where they put all those trastos? I am…)

Around here, we put an emphasis on bilingual books and bilingual music, and even now that my daughter is 8, books and music still are her most common play things. Dolls never have been a big deal for her. And, gente, never would I buy a toy every single week. Ni me lo imagino!

And you?

What are your toy-buying habits for your little one?

Do you look for dolls that look like your child, your family?

What do you think about the options in bilingual toys?

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Un poquito mas:

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Bilingual Spanish Sign

¿Donde va el Acento?

So, listen.

I’ve got a new day job. I’m hanging at a Latino nonprofit in Nashville. Doing PR and communications. My new role calls on me to write in Spanish. For native Spanish-speakers.

Me he cagado once in a while over it. My Spanish writing is not as good as my English. I knew that, but now I really, really know it.

It has made me question the level of bilingual I am.

I wrote mucho about it over on my personal blog, Bilingual in the Boonies. Maybe the blog should be called Semi-Bilingual in the Boonies?

Anyway, un poco:

I can’t remember the accents and the words that flow so easily from me in English sputter out of my head in fits and stalls in Spanish. I worry my words are wrong, maybe they’re Miami cubanisms and not really terms native Spanish-speakers would use? I worry. Thank goodness for great editors and kind proof readers.

Oh, and I won’t even spend much time telling you how I forget words as I am speaking to native Spanish-speakers. Thank goodness for Spanglish, but there’s work to be done in that area for me, too.

How is your written Spanish?

I got some super cool comments on the essay and now I want to ask you, the Tiki Tiki.

Can you write as well in Spanish? If so, how and why? Were you educated in Spanish?

Can you speak, but not write in Spanish? If so, what the heck are you going to do about it, if anything? (I’m reading Spanish literature and the local Spanish papers….I think it’s the key to improving.)

I want to improve my written Spanish. For marketability and for my brain and spirit.

Do you care about your level of being bilingual?

Dímelo!

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click on the image to go see the video/photos on BBC

My Sunday paper alerted me to an upcoming photo exhibit in Nashville of images from the new photography book, Old Havana: Spirit of the Living City by Chip Cooper and Nestor Marti.

Published by the University of Alabama Press, it is a collaboration between Cooper, an American architecture and landscape photographer, and Marti, a photographer living in Havana. A BBC story, with background, can be found here and the story I read locally is here.

A wonderful Tia of mine lives in a 5th-floor walk-up on Calle Obispo, just up the street from La Floridita, right in the heart of la Habana Vieja. It is a vibrant and beautiful corner of the world, and seeing this story made me miss the moments I have spent there.

Also made me long for an easy freedom for Cuba.

Cuba Now. In Pictures.

As did these other images of Cuba I have discovered of late.

• Spare Beauty: The Cuban Kitchen, a collection by photographer Ellen Silverman, of Cubans in their kitchens. They are sparse, beautiful, horrifying, dangerous, simple, sad, inspiring…You name it. An NPR story explains the works and we had a conversation about it on the Tiki Tiki Facebook page.
• The photographer Diane Cu, half of  the popular White on Rice Couple site, showed photos of her fall trip to Cuba during a session at the Blissdom conference I attended in February.  They are intimate and moving and they’re all shot and edited on an iPhone. Go check them out.
• The Denver Post has a striking slideshow of Pope Benedict XVI visit to Cuba last week.
• The photographer Ed Yourdon is one of my favorites to visit on Flickr. His NYC street scenes and photos of young mothers ignoring their children in favor of their phones or electronics always serves as a great reminder to me to unplug. But, anyway. Yourdon went to Cuba last fall for photo workshops and he created a collection of more than 300 images he shot in Havana, plus there is a nice written description of what he saw.

Here’s a slideshow of Yourdon’s Cuba photos:

Viva, Cuba Libre.
One day.

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Why Latinos are Late

Is it true? What they say about Hispanic Time? You know the joke: What time is it when a Latino arrives? Late o’clock.

If you are Latino, if you have friends who are Latino, if you are married to a Latino, I’d bet money you’ve heard anything from whisperings to chidings spoken out loud regarding Hispanic Time.

Hispanic/Latino time — or Cuban Time, or Mexican Time, or Colombian Time, etc — is the tongue-in-cheek saying given to the late arrival time of our people to social gatherings.

For work, business, meetings, school functions, committees, we are professionally prompt and on the dot.

But, invite us to a party, a wedding, a celebration, and let’s just say that chances are good we won’t be the first ones ringing your doorbell.

I don’t take offense when I hear joking about this late arrival time and Latinos. Within my own family we will jokingly ask before we meet somewhere, American time or Latino time? This is our way of asking Do you want me there at 6:30, or around 6:30?

The reasons for this cultural characteristic have been speculated about for years. I feel it’s expected of me to arrive late at a Latino event. I don’t want to arrive on time because I know my hosts will expect me to arrive at least half an hour later than requested.

Research into why there is this occurrence of arriving late in our culture leads to explanations of European background, Mediterranean roots, living in the present, not fully adopting the American lifestyle of “time is money”, and “the early bird gets the worm.”

I have read the proposed theories, detailing how Hispanics value peace more than stress, or  how the Spanish language and it’s verb structure create a lifestyle of living in the present. For me, it comes down to doing what is politely expected in my Latino culture.

Why I am Late

I feel my hosts need the time to prepare for my arrival. I don’t want to catch them before they are ready or make them feel rushed. The arrival time of 30 minutes later that I give them is like a safety net that I silently provide for my friends. I want them to be relaxed and ready for me. In my eyes, arriving later than requested is the considerate thing to do.

It makes my husband and his German family crazy that I aim for a late arrival on purpose. They can’t understand this. I have been told by my husband how important it is for him to arrive on time for anything. I hear him, I really do. But I can’t bring myself to do it. The way I see it, to show up on time puts me at risk of finding my hostess in her slip and hot rollers. With not a smidge of lipstick on.

But I’ve figured out a simple way to work around my husband’s German punctuality and my Latino Time.

I tell him an arrival time that is half an hour later than we’re actually expected. When we pull up to our friend’s home, he smiles thinking we’re wonderfully prompt, and I am able to breathe deeply, relieved we won’t walk in on anybody in their boxers and A shirt, dancing in the kitchen to Pitbull.

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Grilled Tilapia Tacos. Photo credit: Colin Erricson/www.robertrose.ca

Saulsbury's book, in the Tiki Tiki store.

By Camilla V. Saulsbury

Many of the fundamental ingredients of Latin cooking are not only nutritious, but are superfood superstars. Think beans, stone-ground corn tortillas, fresh fish, cilantro, mangoes, bell peppers, pineapples, avocados —even traditional Latin spices, such as cumin and cinnamon are nutritional powerhouses.

The key to keeping it healthy is to keep the added fat to a minimum. In place of Cheddar cheese and sour cream, for example (which are not traditional ingredients anyway), opt for more traditional, flavor-packed ingredients—a squeeze of fresh lime, fresh cilantro, salsa fresco and some dice avocado—all of which deliver great health, minimal calories and incredible taste.

Some other simple swap to consider:

• Multigrain or stoneground corn tortillas in lace of white flour tortillas
•  Long grain brown rice or quinoa (the ultimate Latin American superfood of the ancient Incas) in place of white rice.
• Nonfat plain Greek yogurt in place of sour cream.
•  A crumble of Cotija cheese or other traditional Latin American cheese in place of Cheddar cheese.
• White fish tacos (frozen white fish, as well as budget-friendly tilapia fillets, work beautifully) in place of ground beef tacos.
• Fresh tropical fruit (e.g., melons, pineapple, mango, papaya) for dessert.

Latin Superfoods

Here are three of my favorite Latin American superfoods that are inexpensive, convenient, and likely some of your favorite ingredients already. Viva Latin cooking, in all its healthy glory!

Black Beans
Shiny, oval black beans are an inexpensive addition to the diet. Nutritionally, they are high in the indigestible portion of the plant known as insoluble fiber, which can reduce cholesterol. Their extremely high magnesium content means they are an excellent food for people at risk of developing or suffering from heart disease, and are also rich in minerals and antioxidant compounds called anthocyanins, flavonoids that can help prevent cancer and blood clots.

Mangoes
Mangoes, grown throughout the tropics, are fruit superstars. Their orange flesh contains more beta carotene, which can protect against some cancers and heart disease, than almost any other fruit. They are also a valuable source of vitamin C, potassium and vitamin E, and contain a special enzyme that can be a soothing digestive aid.

Avocados
Avocados are very high in fat, but it is mostly heart-healthy, monounsaturated fat. The oleic acid contained in monounsaturated fats can lower the risk of breast cancer; further, these fats can help to reduce “bad” blood cholesterol levels. Avocados are rich in nutrients, including vitamins C, E and B6, folate, iron, magnesium and potassium, and the antioxidant plant chemicals beta-sitosterol (which can also help lower blood cholesterol) and glutathione (which protects against cancer).

Grilled Tilapia Tacos with Mango Salsa Recipe

This dish showcases tilapia’s outdoorsy side and the bright, fresh flavor of early summer mangos in tropical tacos that are perfect for lunch with friends or a light dinner eaten al fresco. Brushing the delicate fillets with a spiced lime vinaigrette seals in their juices and intensifies the flavor of the tacos.

Preheat barbecue grill to medium-high

Salsa

• 1 cup chopped fresh or thawed frozen
• mango
• 1⁄2 cup chopped red bell pepper
• 1⁄2 cup packed fresh cilantro leaves chopped
• 1⁄4 cup finely chopped red onion
• 1⁄4 tsp fine sea salt
• 1 tbsp freshly squeezed lime juice

Tacos

• 1 tsp ground cumin
• 1⁄2 tsp chili powder
• 1⁄4 tsp fine sea salt
• 1 tbsp freshly squeezed lime juice
• 2 tsp vegetable oil
• 4 skinless farmed tilapia fillets (each 4 about 6 oz)
• 4 8-inch (20 cm) whole wheat tortillas, 4 warmed
• 2 cups shredded purple or green cabbage

1. Salsa: In a small bowl, combine mango, red pepper, cilantro, red onion, salt and lime juice.
2. Tacos: In a small cup, whisk together cumin, chili powder, salt, lime juice and oil. Brush on both sides of fish, coating evenly.
3. Grill fish on preheated barbecue, turning once, for 2 to 3 minutes per side or until fish is opaque and flakes easily when tested with a fork. Flake fish into small pieces.
4. Fill warmed tortillas with fish, cabbage and salsa.

Tip: According to the Monterey Bay Aquarium Seafood Watch, U.S.- and Canadian-farmed tilapia are the best choices because the supplies are abundant, well-managed and farmed in an environmentally friendly way. A good alternative is tilapia farmed in Brazil, Costa Rica, Honduras or Ecuador.

Nutrients per serving:
Calories 370
Total fat 9 g
Saturated fat 2 g
Cholesterol 88 mg
Sodium 579 mg
Carbohydrate 34 g
Fiber 5 g
Protein 41 g
Calcium 52 mg
Iron 1.7 mg

Excerpted from 5 Easy Steps to Healthy Cooking by Camilla V. Saulsbury © 2012 Robert Rose Inc. www.robertrose.ca. Reprinted with permission. All rights reserved. Image: Colin Erricson/www.robertrose.ca.

Camilla V. Saulsbury is a food writer, recipe developer, cooking instructor and fitness expert/personal trainer. She has been featured on the Food Network, in the New York Times and on Today and QVC, and has won numerous top cooking competitions, including the Food Network’s $25,000 Ultimate Recipe Showdown (Cookies Episode).

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‘Bic Baporu’ Fixes All

Memories of childhood winter colds: The Vicks rub down, followed by a tissue placed on my chest.

Vicks Vaporub– or bic baporu  – and colds — they just go together, si? I just know you, gente, have the same memories of the vaporub!

And even now, as an adult, it is like a safety blanket that I keep in the medicine cabinet por si acaso.

If my daughter gets a cold or a cough, my Mami’s voice is immediately on the other end of the phone line with: “Ponle Vicks.”

However, I confess that last year during one of the worst cold/flu/illnesses of my life — one that lasted three months — I bought generic vapor rub and immediately felt I had betrayed every Latin ounce of my DNA and failed countless Mamis who have relied on the real deal to help their nenes breathe better. (I blame my betrayal on la fiebre!)

Make Your Own Vapor Rub

But, I can’t tell you how blown away I was to recently discover You Can Make Your Own Vapor Rub. It isn’t betrayal if you make your own — it is genius resourcefulness. It’s like un cocimiento that abuela makes you, a homemade recipe, a remedy, for wellness hecho con amor.

So, here for you — oh people devoted to el baporu — are some links to homemade vapor rub with natural ingredients.

Wanna make some and compare? (I’m off to the holistic pharmacy pronto to try!)

Quick Homemade Vapor Rub by Crunchy Betty uses beeswax, extra virgin olive oil, peppermint essential oil, eucalyptus and rosemary oils. She put the mix in a little baby food jar. Que cute!

Congestion Rub via Mexican Wildflower contains lavender, peppermint, ginger, and other interesting ingredients.

Vapor rub by earthnotes uses non-petrolium gel, sweet almond oil, eucalyptus essential oil and tea tree oil. The caution is to not put it directly on

And, if you don’t want to make your own rub, just drop some eucalyptus and/or rosemary oil on a small cloth, or put in a vaporizer.

Cool, huh?

FYI, I pinned these recipes to a Home and Health natural cleaners and remedies board on the Tiki Tiki Blog Pinterest.

(And, remember, I ain’t no doctora, so use at your own risk…)

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French Parenting Advice

I first heard about the book, Bringing Up Bébé: One American Mother Discovers the Wisdom of French Parenting by Pamela Druckerman from a journalist friend, Liz, who recently moved with her husband and two small boys from Nashville to Paris.

Her observations on French life often leave me in stitches as I read her Facebook posts. Finally, she has started a public blog: I am Carla Bruni’s Neighbor. (Go read it.)

Liz’s most recent post is basically a rebuttal of Druckerman’s thesis: that the French are fabulous and genius parents, that they “educate” their children by teaching them to wait and that they feel no parenting guilt. Here is a Wall Street Journal book excerpt, if you haven’t seen it.

Liz, who hangs with an international group of expats, writes:

“…they are much more willing to wage emotional and physical warfare with their children than my friends and I are (and remember, I’m representing not an American perspective but an international one). It obviously can’t be said that all French parents are the same, but what passes for acceptable here as a means to make children compliant is unacceptable to every expat parent, no matter the nationality, I know.”

If you have any inkling to go out and buy into Bringing Up Bébé, go read Liz’s essay first. Lots of first-hand look at what parenting in France looks like to an American raising children in France.

On Dominican Parenting

All this on the heels of the The Tiger Mom Amy Chua, who told us Chinese-style parenting was superior…and which many American parents bashed for its strictness.

Bringing the Latino perspective to the topic of the potential French parenting craze, is Carol Cain, in an essay titled: “Are French Parents Superior? Not More So Than My Dominican Ones.”

Carol says she sees similarities between the French method and the way she was raised by her Dominican mom.

We never spoke out of turn. We understood and accepted our place in a room full of adults. Though I remember being loved and nurtured by my mother and know she cared for us deeply, I don’t recall her ever sitting down to play with us or help us do our homework. My siblings and I would have never dared to throw a tantrum in a restaurant or anywhere, and if we did, once was all it took.

Carol says she’s taken the best from her upbringing, but modified it in her own family and she advocates getting rid of the parenting guilt.

…from where I stand, the only difference between the French – and Dominican – way of parenting, is that Americans are riddled with emotional guilt. So much guilt that we look to our children for guidance in how to raise them and give them what they need to be happy and fulfilled.

Cuban Parenting DNA

And me? I did a video (see above) and post a couple of years ago about the push and pull in my own little cabeza between Modern American Parenting and the more “traditional” Cuban-style I grew up with.

Time out? Qué es eso? You’re getting the chancla.
Do you want the pink sippy or the blue sippy? Ha! Te doy lo que te doy, y no jodas.

OK, OK, I exaggerate a tiny bit…but there was way less coddling on some stuff and no real room for negotiation y nada que una buena paliza wouldn’t fix. I would bet my family felt little guilt after discipline was handed down.

I’ve taken the best stuff from the parenting I got (and I include the discipline I got from abuelos and tias and tios) and melded it with what feels right in my heart, and what works best with my own kid.

We don’t spank, we try not to scream and we allow for some conversation and negotiation. But, we’re firm and we take no caca. Sometimes I cave, but ask personal friends and I will likely get voted the Hard Ass Mami — hard ass in comparison to them, I will say.

The longer I am a mother, the more I know I have no idea what works best for other families.

But, I will say that the “real” French way Liz describes gives me the willies.

Y tu?

Are you attracted to the French style of parenting Druckerman describes?

What parenting ideas did you keep from your own upbringing?

What are the benefits of cross-cultural parenting: Taking a little bit of the old and blending it with the new?

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Latina Like JLo

On my last birthday, a friend gave me a wonderful pair of earrings. I was grateful and appreciative that she thought of me and remembered my love of earrings when she came across this pair she thought I’d like.

As I was opening her gift, something slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it, and I could tell that she immediately knew it might not have been the best thing to say. We know each other well enough and what she said did make me laugh, but still, the weight of what she was saying remained thick in the air.

Just as I pulled the last piece of tape off the gift and went to open the box, she blurted with excitement: “I  just know you’ll love them. They’re by JLo!”

That stopped me in my tracks. There was so much about this that was funny. First, that my loving friend would think that if it’s by JLo it meant I would automatically love it because, well, I’m Latina. Second, the very moment she made the JLo comment, she began apologizing one hundred times in a row. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry…

I told her all was fine and put her at ease. And the truth is, I did love the earrings. And I do love most anything by JLo.

Do I love JLo everyday? No. Is everything in my closet and jewelry box by JLo? Again, no. I like variety as much as any other woman.

But Not Latina Enough For Some

Then, the weekend I was writing this post, I followed an online comment thread about a YouTube video that someone had put up. It followed the theme of the popular meme of “What XXXXX Women Say.” You know, the ones that have been going around.  In this case, the video was about Latina women, and what they say.

Some of the comments people left on this YouTube video were from those who thought they had to put this out there to the performer: “”You don’t sound Latina.” and “You don’t look Latina”;  ”You don’t act Latina”; and “Latinas wouldn’t say that.”

All that, despite the performer having Latin roots.

Someone once told me they were surprised to find out I was Hispanic. Their reason? “You don’t wear leopard spots ever.”

How many leopard spot-wearing days a year do I need to be Latina enough? Two times a month? Is that enough leopard spot-wearing to be considered Latina?

As an American with Colombian roots, the question comes to my mind: What is Latinaness? And I pose this not for the non-Latino population to determine, but for us to discuss amongst ourselves.

What makes us who we are? And why does it sometimes seem that our harshest, most intolerant critics are those among our own ethnicity?

What makes us Latina enough to be accepted by our own cultural group? What is it that the critics within our own cultural groups want to see? What would make us Latina enough for our own people to accept us?

Latina Enough

The barbs that sting me the most are the ones that come from my own people, with words of judgment, non-acceptance, and closed doors. (At least my gift-giving friend thinks me Latina enough.)

I want to say to these people, my own people, I don’t fit into the American culture, and you make me feel as if you can’t accept me into your culture based on standards that you determine.

Where would you like me to belong? Because I want to belong with you. You. Where my roots begin, where my heart lies, where my identity is grounded. Please, I may not be exactly like you because I am born here, or have lived here most of my life, but I want to be one of you: you’re my people, and I love you.

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By Cynthia Martinez

When I was younger, and still in the dating scene, I thought boyfriends never loved me. Not one of them ever expressed love towards me with confetti, pan dulce, and/or over the top novela-like scenes.

And I equated that lack of action as them not being interested. I just couldn’t understand why everyone wouldn’t just express their love for me by going into a rendition of Sandra Cisneros’ You Bring Out The Mexican In Me.

For those of you who have never read the poem, she basically says, love makes her violent and over-dramatic. And I totally feel she’s talking about me  and 99 percent of my female cousins (like all families, we have that one token “normal” prima).

My family had taught me to love someone by yelling, crying, and throwing food at them — all while wearing something out of Walter Mercado’s closet. Not by saying… I love you…because, who says that?

So there I went from relationship to relationship, wondering why all men were clueless jerks. And the men perhaps wondering why I would offer them pan dulce every time they said I love you. But in my defense, who shows love with just words?

After several of my relationships ended due to lack of communication from speaking different emotional languages, I found myself passionately re-enacting a Delores del Rio scene where I cried and threw stuff, because that’s how I was taught to show heartbreak. Yes, I learned how to love off a soap opera.

I only knew how to love in one extreme or another.With several heartbreaks I found myself going on various man-hating voyages. You know the kind…the one where you swear off men, but secretly find yourself wondering what your future husband will look like as you eat your emotions away with some fancy ice cream, while telling 99 percent of your primas your plans for becoming the Asexual Woman of the New Millennium. Needless to say I was one very dramatic teenager/young 20–something.

But Then I Grew Up

But then something happened…I grew up. I started to analyze my life and how I communicated with those around me . I found that emotionally, I was a horrible communicator…and just maybe, that could have been why I chose people who could not communicate with me in return…just maybe. Because the truth was I acted out the emotions of love, but never truly allowed people to feel them.

Up until my mid-20s, I had always thought that to love was loud, in your face, and proud — much like those novelas I was addicted to as a child. Anything less than that… was not love in my book. Instead of simplifying my love life and stating how I felt, I hoped they would guess by how much confetti I threw at them. And instead of enjoying and feeling the moment someone told me they loved me, I found myself waiting for them to prove it with a Juan Gabriel song (which by the way is still the best way to make my heart melt).

I’m not saying those actions were not love, they just weren’t the most effective ways to express it, and most importantly, not the type of love I was truly looking for. There is something to be said in knowing that “I Love You” is all you need to feel loved.

With time I found I lessened my novela re-enactments and increased stating words that made people feel loved. I found that love was best enjoyed when expressed and felt in a manner that was conductive to growth, and not based on the heated display of an emotion.

Eventually, I even found a man who speaks the same emotional language as I do: he too suffers occasional caprichos and carries confetti in his car for my enjoyment.

Y Tu?

How do you express love, and how has it affected the relationships in your life?

Cynthia Martinez spends her days trying all the newest fad diets and nights shoving her face with pan dulce, because isn’t that what all good Latinas do? After leaving the world of labor relations to pursue her artistic passions, Cynthia can now be found writing over at  Fat Girl Escapades.

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