So, yes, this was my life, a life of table dancing, modelling, tv watching and attempted smoking.  I was a rebel, a loner.

As time would have it my hair began to grow, and let me tell you, when it began, it did not stop!!  It grew until I could sit on it.  As homely as I was, I must say that my hair has always been my shining glory.  Everywhere I went people would stop and look on in awe and my booty length, thick auburn curls.  I can remember my grandmother washing my hair in the sink.  I would stand on that vinyl kitchen table chair, bent over at the waist listening to my grandma mutter under her breath about how she had never seen so much hair on one person in her whole life!  It was at least a forty five minute ordeal as she would wash and condition one section at a time.  Then would come the combing which brought about more muttering and fretting.  Finally, she would sit me on the den floor and put my head under one of those old fashioned hair dryers that they used to use in the salons and such.  I would happily sit there and watch scooby doo, all snug as a bug in a rug as my hair dried.  Hours later I could often be found sound asleep under that warm dryer, hair still damp.

I LOVED being at my grandparents!  They had a small farm with goats, chickens, a horse and a bull that my grandpa had purchased to slaughter for the beef.  Unfortunately, my grandfather was an animal lover and named the bull, and we would walk out to the pasture, pet, feed and talk to said bull.  I will never forget the day that the butchers came to the farm, strung up our pet bull and slaughtered him.  My grandmother's freezer was full of what was left of what's his name.  It was tense and awkward as my family sat around my grandparents dinner table, pushing the steak around on our dinner plates.  It was dead (no pun intended) silent.  Finally, my grandmother spoke up and asked, "Does this beef taste a little gamey to you"?  I sighed in relief as one by one all of the adults agreed that the beef did not taste right at all.  It was quickly thrown into the trash, and so was the rest of what was left of what's his name in the freezer.

Thruout my life I came into contact with a bevy of animals.  We always had dogs, cats, or as I stated previously, animals on my grandpa's farm.  Which is why it was so exciting for my parents to take me to a local petting zoo. I walked among all the cute little animals petting the goats, pigs, ponies and a variety of other farm animals.  I was especially intrigued when we came upon the Llamas.  They were so funny looking and fun to pet.  I stood there stroking the nose of one particular llama as my mother and father explained the odd animals to me.  Suddenly, the llama reared back, made a strange noise from the back of his throat and let loose with a geyser of green slime.    

I stood stock still, mouth and eyes clamped shut, trying not to breathe for the odor.  And suddenly, I hear laughter from onlookers as my parents swooped down upon me.  I was literally covered from head to tow with llama loogie.  It was everywhere, in every nook and cranny.  My ears, my nose, down into my shoes and between my toes, and all thru my hair.  And the stench!  Oh my word it was awful.  I can remember people laughing at pointing at llama snot girl as my parents raced me to the car, removed my clothes and tried to clean me as best they could.  Once home, I was quickly immersed in the tub and scrubbed until my skin shown red.  The hair was a different story altogether.  As thick as it was it literally took weeks to get all of the green mess and stench out of my hair.  Needless to say, I have steered clear of llamas ever since.

It was around this time that the Lord began to deal with my parents about returning to church and raising me in the house of God.  And, my mother became pregnant with my sister Cindy.  Now what a way to go and mess up my perfect, only child, ultra spoiled, heathen life...........