Once upon a time, a sperm went for a swim. He was just splashing and playing along when suddenly a tunnel opened before his eyes...How intriguing, and so, the lovely sperm traveled down the tunnel and took a few turns. Phew! Swimming along sure did take a lot of energy. Out of nowhere, a large circular object appeared. Hmmm...the little sperm swam forward and sniffed the situation out. He just stuck his nose in...and HOLY CRAP! The wall opened up and he got sucked in. AAAAHHHHHH!!! But at least it smelled attractive.
Inside the circular thingy, the sperm fell in love with some DNA and the result of that love affair was--me! I was born approximately 21 years ago in this very wintery month. Yup, that means I'm going to be a birthday girl soon, and for my 21st birthday, I will be riding a carousel. That's right. I'm gonna party like I'm 5 and 1/2 years old.
When I was three, I contracted a heart virus. The only memories I have of this virus are stories from my mom and dad. I honestly don't remember anything at all, and so I feel funny when people tell me how lucky I am or how sorry they are to hear that I was hurt. I had a stuffed Barney that I dragged with me everyone, and he even took x-rays to show me that taking x-rays wasn't scary at all. All I watched in the hospital was a Barney tape that was rewinded and played over and over and over again. My mom told me that "Going outside" meant I was going for a walk in the hospital hall,s and when I was finally discharged from the hospital, I was confused when we literally went outside.
As a child, I was very hard headed. On a crisp evening, my little sister and I dined at my mom's favorite glass table. My booksack was across the table near my sister and I wanted it. However, she refused to pass it to me. To remedy this problem, I climbed the table and crossed it easily. Then it snapped and shoved me against the wall. I remember lots of screaming. I screamed in pain while my mom screamed in fear. My little sister wailed for her spaghetti. The table left at least a 5-inch gash on my right thigh. Luckily, we lived next to a nurse, and so my parents rushed me off in the dark to see her. I didn't need stitches, but the gash left a huge scar. Now, the scar is about 2-inches long, but I refuse to wear shorts that don't reach my knees. It makes me self-conscious when others see my scar and ask about it. I'd prefer to pretend it doesn't exist.
I met my first best friend ever in kindergarten. She raised her hand in class and said, "I go to dancing with Unie's cousin." A little shy, I could only smile, but since then, we've been buds. It's pretty funny how we became best friends. My parents tell me that we were actually in the hospital at the same time. She had stomach issues while I had heart problems, but we both made it out alive. We were just meant to be!
If you heard me speak as a child, I'm pretty sure you could've guessed where I lived. I spoke with a lot of Cajun phrases. "Mais na, couillon," was my favorite (pronounced "May nauh, Coo-yawn" but the n isn't really pronounced...it's like this weird u and awwn sound). Now, I don't use any Cajun words at all, but it's easy for me to slip back into my old accent, which I probably still have in my everyday language use. I didn't really know being Cajun was anything weird at all. In fact, when I told people my last name, they told me, "I feel sorry for you. You got all the crazy people in your family." I grew up thinking everyone had large families with 20 cousins on each side and at least 8 aunts and uncles on each side, too. The last thing you told someone was that you were Cajun. If you let that slip out, then you were called crazy, stupid, and sometimes, worst of all, a coonass (P.S. Never come to Louisiana and call someone a coonass. It's not a term on endearment. It's an insult).
Mean and sassy, that was me in elementary school. It's embarrassing to look back on it now, but it was true. One time, I pushed against a boy so hard that his lemon heads flew out of his hand and scattered on the ground. He demanded that I replace them, but I absolutely refused. What's even weirder is that same boy had a crush on me in high school...How could he ever like a mean girl?
My origin was a little rocky, but I think most people's are. I hope you enjoyed my mini-stories. ^_^