Mia: Shaken Not Stirred


The true life stories of a NYC female.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

A Million Smiles



Something about the woman’s tone irked me …kind of…sort of.
One of my eyebrows flew up and froze into an arch, my eyes had narrowed and my head had tilted slightly to the side. Oh and lawd help me I was smiling but it wasn’t my happy to see ya smile it was my yourethisclose from being told off smile. Yeah I got a smile for every occasion. I’ve got a million smiles.


A group of us were chatting and a friend asked me a question which I partially answered in Spanish.

“Mia, you’re Latina?” the new comer not my friend yet asked.

“Yes” I replied

I’m actually Hispanic there’s a difference but non-Latinos and non-Hispanics rarely know that and I wasn’t in the mood to educate anyone. It was too hot to play teacher.

“I knew you were some kind of minority I just didn’t know what kind!”


some kind of minority?” I asked incredulously there was something about the way she’d said it that made me want to repeat it over and over again. “Some kind of minority?”

The woman nodded her head, “Yeah I could tell by your coloring but I couldn’t tell if you were an Arab or something like that. I knew you weren’t black but these days you can never tell.

I stared at her and cleared my throat a little and let out a deep throaty laugh a sure sign that I was irked. It was definitely something about the way she said it that irritated me.

“Oh honey I am so not some kind of minority.

“Mia’s a mix of many kind of minorities!” one of my friends interjected.

“You’re damn skippy I am.” I said

“What kind are you ?” she asked

“The nice kind.” I replied and laughed.

“Mia’s of Spaniard, Celt and Arab ancestry on her maternal grandmother’s side, Basque and Spaniard on her maternal grandfather’s side and pure Puerto Rican on her father’s side.” My very knowledgeable friend interjected since I wasn’t offering up my family tree for inspection.

“Oh Basque and Celt like that character in the book,” she said pointing to a paperback she’d been reading, "That’s where you get that scary look from!”

Wtf now I’m scary? Oh wow this female is so winning points with me.

“Scary?”

“Yeah you’ve got this tough chick vibe going on. I was scared of you when I first met you. Your natural body language screams I will kick you ass! You’re very intimidating you know.” she said and then giggled.

“Oh yeah all 4ft 11 of me screams intimidation. People hide when they see me. Entire communities take up torches and pitchforks when I roll into town. ” I rolled my eyes at her.

“There’s something about your eyes. Where did you get them from?” she asked.

“Wal-mart.”

“Seriously Mia where did you get them from? I’m into archeology and history. I have a degree in history this stuff is fascinating.”

“I inherited the eyes from my maternal grandfather.”

“That’s the Basque side right?”

I nodded my head.

“Yeah that’s it it’s your eyes. Throughout history Basques have had a reputation for being fierce it shows in your eyes.”

“Really? Well grrrrrr then.” I said as I bared my teeth at her.

She giggled and then sighed. “Oh Mia it’s been so nice to get to know you. I’m not scared of you anymore! You’re not as scary as you look!”

I nodded my head. “Yeah it’s been a slice of heaven for me too finding out I’m some kind of fierce looking minority that intimates people with my looks.”

She smiled and seemed pleased with herself. I returned it with one of my million smiles but this one didn’t quite reach my eyes.

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