Luche Libre

I had a headache. The kind that starts or ends in your neck like a root twisted part of something bigger; I admit that all I had eaten that day was chocolate. DoraDiegoDoraDiego, come on vamanos! Everybody let's go! Stupid fucking tiny high heels all over the carpet pink like plastic thorns. Why do they even give Barbie shoes to wear if she can't keep them on for more than a minute anyway? The same question over and over and over again, I can't remember what it was. Can I wear my bathing suit maybe, or I want to color on my face, more of a statement but the answer the same: no. Did you hear what I said? What did I say? No, no, nonono, a word which even on paper looks a little bit unfinished.Later I apologized. After I had a glass of water and felt like a total asshole. I love you, I said, do you hear me? The difference this time that I took her face in my hands and spoke softly. I want you to know that I love you even when I am mad. I love you when you are laughing, when you are snoring, I love you when you look beautiful in a princess dress and when you look like a maniac Mexican wrestler in your mask with the dried up glue where once there was glitter. I love you even when you are not so sure that you love me. And she smiled and held up three fingers to ask if she could have two pink bunny Peeps. I said no.

Later still she followed me into the bathroom and hugged my knees as I sat down. Mama, she said looking up at me, I love you even when you poop.

I know, I said, exactly, and kissed the top of her head.