This cannot be one post. There are honestly just too many things to tell you. In the interest of full disclosure, I am letting you know a little bit more about me, and why I am so weird.
My parents were divorced. But even before that, my dad was an F-14 pilot. Yes, like Maverick. When I was a baby, we moved to Subic Bay (in the Philippines) where I spent my formative years with stories of monkeys invading the hospital, and huge snakes climbing the fence out of the jungle.
When we moved back to the States, we settled in Virginia Beach, where my dad was stationed. When you have a parent in the Navy, they are gone a LOT. A lot lot. Mostly because of that, and probably just because they were so young, my parents divorced. As he was born and raised in Studio City, California, he moved back to the West Coast. My mom and I stayed in Virginia.
Thus began my weird ass childhood. I never really belonged anywhere, first because of the Navy stuff (my mom was Texan), and because I spent the dad time in LA, with the rest of my huge, Catholic, California family. I am like a Southern-Californian, and if you know me well, that makes a bit of sense. Just go with it...I am weird.
Back to my mom. She was very pretty, thin, and vivacious. She was also a lot younger than the other moms. What did that mean? All the boys talked about my mom. It. Was. Awful. Awful. She was stylish, and did her own thing. Think big hats, and bronze, silk, pants suits. As a hormonal tweenager, I just couldn't deal. Now that I am older, I have to laugh.
She had a penchant for wearing a full length fur coat EVERYWHERE. I mean, barn boots, riding pants, and a full length fur. She did not give a shit, and did what she wanted. I lived in fear of someone throwing paint on her, but I'm guessing she would have come out on top of that fight.
From the time I can remember, she was always taking people into our house. Women who needed a place to stay were always welcome. She also had a nickname for everyone. We had one lady (no clue as to her actual name), and mom called her Debby Doughnut. As in, time to make the doughnuts. My mom was such a bad ass, but a complete softie.
I never doubted that I was her biggest pain in the ass, but also her greatest achievement. On her side of the family, I was the first person to graduate from college. It was big. She was so proud, and threw a big ass party that I was excited about, and completely mortified about. I am not a drama person. I like boring, I really do.
I feel like each of these paragraphs could be a chapter in a book.
Stay tuned. I have a WHOLE LOT. Like the time she raised a goat in our house...
STANDARD FTC DISCLOSURE: In order for me to support my blogging activities, I may receive monetary compensation or other types of remuneration for my endorsement, recommendation, testimonial and/or link to any products or services from this blog. Please note that I only endorse products that are in alignment with Stained with Style's ideals and that I believe would be of value to my readers. Stained with Style is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to Amazon.com
My parents were divorced. But even before that, my dad was an F-14 pilot. Yes, like Maverick. When I was a baby, we moved to Subic Bay (in the Philippines) where I spent my formative years with stories of monkeys invading the hospital, and huge snakes climbing the fence out of the jungle.
 |
| Me, naked in the yard in the Philippines |
When we moved back to the States, we settled in Virginia Beach, where my dad was stationed. When you have a parent in the Navy, they are gone a LOT. A lot lot. Mostly because of that, and probably just because they were so young, my parents divorced. As he was born and raised in Studio City, California, he moved back to the West Coast. My mom and I stayed in Virginia.
Thus began my weird ass childhood. I never really belonged anywhere, first because of the Navy stuff (my mom was Texan), and because I spent the dad time in LA, with the rest of my huge, Catholic, California family. I am like a Southern-Californian, and if you know me well, that makes a bit of sense. Just go with it...I am weird.
Back to my mom. She was very pretty, thin, and vivacious. She was also a lot younger than the other moms. What did that mean? All the boys talked about my mom. It. Was. Awful. Awful. She was stylish, and did her own thing. Think big hats, and bronze, silk, pants suits. As a hormonal tweenager, I just couldn't deal. Now that I am older, I have to laugh.
She had a penchant for wearing a full length fur coat EVERYWHERE. I mean, barn boots, riding pants, and a full length fur. She did not give a shit, and did what she wanted. I lived in fear of someone throwing paint on her, but I'm guessing she would have come out on top of that fight.
From the time I can remember, she was always taking people into our house. Women who needed a place to stay were always welcome. She also had a nickname for everyone. We had one lady (no clue as to her actual name), and mom called her Debby Doughnut. As in, time to make the doughnuts. My mom was such a bad ass, but a complete softie.
I never doubted that I was her biggest pain in the ass, but also her greatest achievement. On her side of the family, I was the first person to graduate from college. It was big. She was so proud, and threw a big ass party that I was excited about, and completely mortified about. I am not a drama person. I like boring, I really do.
I feel like each of these paragraphs could be a chapter in a book.
Stay tuned. I have a WHOLE LOT. Like the time she raised a goat in our house...
Here is a link to my more in depth privacy policy and information collection...
STANDARD FTC DISCLOSURE: In order for me to support my blogging activities, I may receive monetary compensation or other types of remuneration for my endorsement, recommendation, testimonial and/or link to any products or services from this blog. Please note that I only endorse products that are in alignment with Stained with Style's ideals and that I believe would be of value to my readers. Stained with Style is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to Amazon.com
No comments
Post a Comment