Memories Rewind: Diva in the Making
I was a girly girl growing up, but that didn't mean I couldn't hang with the boys. I loved it all-the frilly dresses, bows, and shoes. What I really loved was jewelry. My Mama has a picture of me from Christmas wearing a teal blue sweater, jeans, a bracelet, and necklace. After all, no look is complete without accessories.
I loved Sunday mornings, not just for going to church, but also because it gave me a chance to dress up. I distinctly remember a blush pink dress with a white collar that had dainty pink roses on it. I would finger the roses while admiring myself in the mirror. I twirled in front of the mirror, letting my dress flow freely.
I sat down, slowly slipping on my white tights. I then put on my black patent Mary Janes. Mama appeared to fix my hair. I could feel the brush against my head, leaving behind hair as smooth as silk. She didn't want it to fall, so she wrapped the elastic around several times. She finished it off with a blush pink bow. I felt like a princess that day; no one could convince me otherwise.
My love for jewelry also started at a young age. I begged whoever I was with to let me have a quarter as we left Wal-M@rt. There was machines filled with bubble gum and balls, but I made a beeline for the one filled with jewelry. I slid in the quarter and turned the knob. It was anyone's guess as to what would come out. I anxiously awaited my prize. I peeled off the fuchsia pink top. There was a little diamond ring inside. I slid it on my finger.
"Pretty good for a quarter", I thought.
As I matured, I realized I could have real diamonds. I got my first diamond ring, albeit a small one, for my fifth grade graduation. I almost squealed with delight, but I knew I should behave like a lady.
We inevitably went to back to Wal-M@rt, but this time was different. On the way out, we passed that machine with the fake jewelry. Without so much as even a word, my Papa slipped me a quarter. I said, "I don't want the fake stuff when I can have the real." Papa laughed. Although that machine used to hold dreams of sparkling diamonds, those dreams were made a reality by my Mama. She didn't know it, but I was on my way to becoming a little diva (with manners of course).
*If I can find a picture of me in a dress, I will post it. A lot of pictures are in a scrapbook.*
I loved Sunday mornings, not just for going to church, but also because it gave me a chance to dress up. I distinctly remember a blush pink dress with a white collar that had dainty pink roses on it. I would finger the roses while admiring myself in the mirror. I twirled in front of the mirror, letting my dress flow freely.
I sat down, slowly slipping on my white tights. I then put on my black patent Mary Janes. Mama appeared to fix my hair. I could feel the brush against my head, leaving behind hair as smooth as silk. She didn't want it to fall, so she wrapped the elastic around several times. She finished it off with a blush pink bow. I felt like a princess that day; no one could convince me otherwise.
My love for jewelry also started at a young age. I begged whoever I was with to let me have a quarter as we left Wal-M@rt. There was machines filled with bubble gum and balls, but I made a beeline for the one filled with jewelry. I slid in the quarter and turned the knob. It was anyone's guess as to what would come out. I anxiously awaited my prize. I peeled off the fuchsia pink top. There was a little diamond ring inside. I slid it on my finger.
"Pretty good for a quarter", I thought.
As I matured, I realized I could have real diamonds. I got my first diamond ring, albeit a small one, for my fifth grade graduation. I almost squealed with delight, but I knew I should behave like a lady.
We inevitably went to back to Wal-M@rt, but this time was different. On the way out, we passed that machine with the fake jewelry. Without so much as even a word, my Papa slipped me a quarter. I said, "I don't want the fake stuff when I can have the real." Papa laughed. Although that machine used to hold dreams of sparkling diamonds, those dreams were made a reality by my Mama. She didn't know it, but I was on my way to becoming a little diva (with manners of course).
*If I can find a picture of me in a dress, I will post it. A lot of pictures are in a scrapbook.*
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