Welcome to a series of stories that basically make up my autobiography. It’s not entirely thorough, but I’ll do the best I can with the memories locked away inside my head. Could be therapeutic for me. Could be humorous for you. Either way, enjoy…
Previously on Life Story… I was born with a bald spot on my head that has apparently never grown hair.
After a rough start to the labor pains, I was finally born at 7:43am on March 6, 1980. It was a cold and windy day, as early March often is. And like the month of March, I came in like a lion. Just screaming and attacking every gazelle in sight. Okay, not so much with the attacking gazelles. But I’m sure there was screaming. Birth is very traumatic. Especially for me. I had a thing ripped out of my head for cryin’ out loud. You’d be screaming, too.
I don’t remember much of that first year of life. In fact, I don’t remember any of it. All I can tell you is that I was adorable. Read on for proof…
Here I am at one month. Okay, I’ll admit, not that cute. I mean, yeah, there’s a babyish kind of charm there, but honestly, I’ve seen cuter babies. But I’m not one to automatically think that babies are cute. As I’ve said before, newborns are kind of gross looking. Then again, this is one month later. I should have had time to mature.
Now this is more like it. I guess, for me, it took three months to hit adorable. Just look at that smile. Not something you’ll often see these days, but there’s proof that I can do it and have in the past.
And at nine months I looked like a big dork. What’s this? A Christmas outfit of some kind? With a bow tie? Really? Although, bow ties are cool. Please note, however, at this age I was not dressing myself. This could have all been part of my mother’s ongoing plot of revenge for missing Eight Is Enough. It’s one TV show, woman! Get over it already!