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Sunday, February 13, 2011

Welcome to my life...

My name is Daphne James Pennlawn.  I'm not an actress or a singer. I'm not rich or famous. I'm just your everyday average Joe. I decided to write my story because everybody else does it. I figured if ya can't beat 'em, join 'em, right?  So here i is. Every boring mundane moment of my lifein print for someone to read. This book (if I'm lucky - which normally I am not) should make great toilet reading.

Let's start at the beginning. I was born in the wee hours of a Saturday morning in late November in a small city in lower Michigan. Wait, let me back up a bit more. My mother met my father while working as a secretary in a ballroom dancing studio. I'm told my father was quite charming back then.  To make a long story short, they dated, he proposed, she got pregnant and then all hell broke loose. The scum sucking bottom feeder (SSBF for short) as I now fondly ccall him, dropped the bombshell that he was actually married. He then, of course, took off.  Nice, eh?

Anyway, let's put that unpleasantness aside for now and go back to that glorious day in 1976. Unfortunately, I caused my mom some trouble, but thankfully she survived relatively unscathed. The next four years - or the first four depending on the way you look at it, are a bit of a blur. Oddly enough, we don't seem to remember much when we're really young. I bet that's because the higher power doesn't want us to know that our parents fell asleep while holding us upside down or cursed our confounded endless crying! I know that we lived with my grandparents, two aunts, and uncle until I was about four. I was well taken care of, well loved and maybe just a tiny bit spoiled.  Ok, fine, a lot spoiled.

My mom bought land and had a cute little tri-level house built about 10  miles from my grandparents. We lived on a dead end street called Coke Drive. I loved it! Mom worked at a hospital in the pharmacy for a while, however, she really wanted to be a teacher. We weren't rich, actually, we were dirt poor, but I don't ever remember feeling poor. I was in brownies and then girl scouts and loved it. My mom was my scout leader and we had meetings in our basement. I met some great friends at girl scout camp. One that I still speak to today.

My mother tells me at age 2 I proclaimed that I wanted to be a ballerina. She enrolled me in dance when I was 6 and to this day, 28 years later, dance is still my passion. Around the time I was 9, I decided I wanted to do gymnastics. Once again, mom signed me up. I attended a club where I immediately went from recreational to pre-team to competitive team. I was still dancing, but I loved the competitive side of gymnastics. I had some great experiences in gymanstics and made some life long friends. I also had some not so great experiences. I think it was while I was in gymnastics that my self-estee took a dive. I was never good enough, thin enough, pretty enough, or talented enough. It didn't - and still doesn't - matter that my mom would tell me how great and awesome I was. I wanted - maybe even needed - to be the best. At the end of 6th grade, my dance teacher closed her studio and retired. The doctors told my mom that I had tendonitis in my wrists around the same time. So, all at once, I lost my favorite dance teacher and was considering qitting gymnastics because it hurt. (So maybe I'm a sissy...shut up).

(Stay tuned for more....)

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