I have come to realize that I am just not a fancy girl. I have never had a manicure or pedicure--I paint my own nails. I would much rather eat at some sketchy looking hole-in-the-wall with great food than an expensive multi-utensil restaurant. If someone gave me a brand new car tomorrow, I would say "thank you," park it in the garage for backup, and continue driving my beloved, 9-year-old Xterra until it keeled over and died. I don't get my hair done, have no desire to fly first class, and only own a few nice pieces of jewelry as I much prefer that of the costume variety. I do want a nice pair of diamond earrings someday, but I figure I've got a lot of years to work on that, and in the meantime, I have my quarter-carat studs to hold me over.
In the words of my best guy friend Michael, I'm easy. (No, that's not what he meant, so quit thinking it.) I do not know how I got this way, as it is not in my blood. My Mom is not easy. I think I probably inherited it from my Dad. I hope so. I'll take anything I can claim.
I do have an affinity for expensive perfume. I wear Miss Dior Cherie, which is a bit on the costly side, but I feel that I'm probably allowed one vice. And I like to smell nice.
We have plenty of money. We're not rich, but we're comfortable. I have more now than I've ever had. Blaker will give me pretty much anything I want. I just don't want anything. I grew up with little, but I never knew it. I thought we had a lot--I had no concept of money or salaries or how much my Dad made. I was always given everything I needed and then some. Dad found a way, even if it meant sacrificing a lot, which is usually did. And I never even knew. I would do the same for my kids. I guess that's just what you do when you love someone.
I doubt I'll ever be a fancy girl.