I’m surprised at how heavy the Mexicans are,
the women especially.

I’d expected svelte, lovely Mexicanas wearing full skirts
and embroidered cotton tops,
long black hair, braided, or tumbling loose over dark shoulders.

The only thing that comes close to that are the Indians selling cheap jewelry to tourists in El Centro.
And now I kind of wonder if that isn’t just for show,
and suspect that they, too, change into jeans once they get home
after a long day of selling beads and trinkets on the plaza.

But it’s really those tight jeans that put me over the edge.
And I can’t help but notice the rolls of fat
even on young women.
Along with that there is the junk food and Coke
that they seem to be consuming all of the time.

Just last night, Ana, my hostess, suggested that I
dress like a Mexicana in order to fit in more and not stand out too much.
I stood there in my cotton skirt and blouse
as I listened and looked at her brown polyester tee shirt and jeans,
and was at a loss for words.

2/21/09