I kinda glazed over the fact that Little Fawn had a birthday a couple of days ago. And it was a big one… at least in Mexican culture it’s a big one: 15.
My baby girl turned 15 on Tuesday. God, I can remember so vividly the day she was born. I’ll have to write about that one later. I had talked with a few friends and even my mom about throwing a big party for her… a quinceanera. But it just wasn’t in the cards.
It’s a pretty big deal when a Mexican girl turns 15. Not having really been raised as a Mexican I couldn’t tell you what that is but apparently it involves dressing the birthday girl in the gaudiest, trashiest dress one can find. Google quinceanera and you’ll see more examples.
|There is a church service where she is made to feel like a sacrificial lamb.
I’ve attended a couple of these and been the photographer for a few quinceaneras. I’ve gotta say, even being Mexican, the whole ritual seems a little odd. They dress up this little girl, as if for a wedding and then offer her up to their god. Seems a little old testament to me. Either that or Aztec. All they’re missing is a sharp knife and her still beating heart.
Oh and at this party, I guess all her guy friends show looking like pimps. Because of course that’s what every virtuous, virgin-ish 15 year old girl has is a court of pimps at her every whim.
For Little Fawn I chose something a little more subdued. I took her to dinner at a little fast food place that serves spaghetti and other pasta dishes and I gave her a tiarra.
She played along and actually tried on the tiarra that came with the mug but I cut her head off trying to take the picture. She wouldn’t let me take any more of her with it on her head for fear of me sending it to our church discussion board. Damn teenagers… much smarter now than when I was a kid.
I love you Little Fawn. Happy birthday.