Before you decide I can't count, allow me to explain. Amy set this blog up for me in a completly unashamed display of peer pressure, so she made the first post. Therefore, for me, this is post numero uno.
I have long waffled back and forth about starting a blog. Secretly I wanted to, but my desire to not log on and see zero comments and zero viewings was overwhelming. I whined to Amy that no one would read it, and I didn't know if my relativily fragile self-confidence could handle failing at yet another medium. But Amy says that she'll read me. So, Amy, consider yourself my numero uno reader. Punny, I know.
Since I don't want my first post to be entirely about blogging (as that is terribly cliche), allow me to introduce myself with three important facts about me.
1.) If you know me at all, in any way, or if you've ever seen me on the street or in real life or you know someone who knows me or has heard of me, you probably know that, and I quote every hairdresser I've ever been to, I "have
the thickest hair" that anyone has ever seen. I am the perfect blend of my mother and father in that respect. But rather than getting my mom's Farrah Faucet-like ability to flip and curl her locks, I instead got her thickness and mousy brown shade of boredom. And my dad, were he to ever take up motorcycling, would never need to wear a helmet as he has not shed a strand of hair since somewhere around 4th grade. In other words, abnormally thick strands of hair with the consistency of wire have been piling up on top of his head for fifty something years now. You can only imagine the density. So if you add one part mom's hair and one part dad's hair, you get me with two parts thickness.
I once had a basketball coach come up and grab my ponytail in the middle of stretching before practice and ask, "Is this all your hair?" Instead of wisely resisting the urge to smart off, I said something very dumb, along the lines of, "No, I picked some up on my way in to school today."
I ran a lot of laps for that comment. Stupid thick hair.
2.) If I could only eat one food item for the rest of my life (and it was fortifide to provide me with all my daily nutritional needs) I would eat cotton candy every single day. Why?, you might ask. Because it's delicious and pretty and soft, that's why.
3.) I have scoliosis. In case you've ever noticed and wondered why I am always slouching or slumping in some way and have been too embarrassed to ask me about it, please, do go ask my parents. I was told after that excessively embarrasing 6th grade meeting between me and the nurse and my tiny bra, that my back is curved like an "S." I took my special note home to parents, looking very forward being that innocent, doe-eyed child who would be rushed immediatly to the doctor where I would be petted and doted over and given popsicles while my health was discussed in hushed and somber tones behind a blue curtain. Instead, dad read the note, spun me around, pulled up the back of my shirt and did a little check-up of his own. "You're fine," was his wise diagnosis. He did, after all, have his degree in Parks and Recreation.
Long story short, thanks to dad's diagnosis I avoided a childhood spent with a metal rod up my back, but I am also now very well on my way to spending my Social Security years hanging with Quasi Moto.
Fortunatly, I liked Quasi's movie, and I can live off cotton candy, and my hair is so thick I can probably hide my monstrosity of back somewhere underneath it. So, really, I'll be just fine.
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