If, per chance, I had actually been sent home with the woman upon whose Tata's I was nom nommin'  my life might have taken a far different path.  I suppose I would have pursued a career in theatre or stand up comedy, two things that have always appealed to me, or become a famous Harlequin Romance writer.  Either way, I could have been filthy rich, but, as fate, and God's will would have it I was sent home with toothless woman.

In spite of her lack of molars, I would not trade my mother for any other, nor my father for they raised me in the fear and admonition of the Lord from the time I was five years old.  But, up until that glorious day, we were living the thug life.  Now, let's talk about my father.  By anyone's standards, he was considered "hot" back in the day.  My earliest memories of him are of his wavy black hair slicked back in a duck tail, curls dancing at his forehead "Elvis style".  His clothing of choice were jeans with a white t-shirt, pack of cigarettes rolled up in the sleeve and a lit one hanging from the side of his mouth.  Kicked out of every High School in Modesto, he was James Dean rebel material.
Where my mother lacked molars, (which she has never let me forget), my father's butt had been hi-jacked.  Unfortunately for me, I got the full mouth of teeth and my dad's invisible butt. 

Bald until I was two years old, (go figure) my mother in her desperation to put SOMETHING on my dome would make little bows and attach them to my scalp via either scotch tape or Karo Syrup.  No, I am not kidding.  This worked perfectly until the warmer months when the Karo Syrup would melt and there would go the bow, sliding down the side of my face.  Everywhere we went my mother was asked over and over how she got those bows to stay in place, and everyone including you my dear readers and yes, myself, were bewildered.  I was always dressed to the nines and it didn't take long for me to figure out that I was adorable.  Hair or not, I was irresistable.  This is where my life began to take a turn to the depths of table dancing and modeling.

My maternal Grandfather was a sucker for cameras and radios, so he always had the latest technology and LOVED to photograph Tweety.  I would stand in the middle of the coffee table for hours posing for my beloved grandpa as those old flash cubes exploded.  I would turn this way and that, hands on hips, foot out, looking over my shoulder, primping for the camera, I loved it.  When I became bored with that I would beg my grandpa to set up the old record player so I could dance.  They would stack a huge pile of 45's my dad had gotten from a friend who had been a DJ at a radio station and I would stand on a vinyl kitchen chair and dance the evening away to the Beatles, Elvis and my personal fave, The Jackson Five!  This lifestyle satisfied for only a season, and then I began the slippery slope to the more evil of entertainments............TELEVISION!!!