Big Chicas Don't Cry

by Annette Chavez Macias

After getting a layer of masa, the husks were then passed on to Erica, who filled them with a mixture of shredded pork and red chile. Later, she would switch to shredded chicken, green chile, and jack cheese. Then we’d make a dozen of cheese only just for me to take home since I didn’t do spicy or chile or salsa. If there was any masa left, Welita would prepare sweet tamales made with raisins, nuts, and pineapple.

I didn’t care if I sounded or looked crazy. It had become a matter of principle at that point.

I want that last raspberry streusel bar. No, I deserve that last raspberry streusel bar. So, pick something else, and move on with the rest of your day.”

Two minutes later, I bit into the pastry and nearly cried.

I didn’t need Eileen or anyone else pointing out if I’d gained a pound or two or not. That’s what my abuela and mother were for.

“Yes, you ridiculous woman. I love you so fucking much.”

Alexis Daria, Priscilla Oliveras, and Mia Sosa,