My mother tells me my middle name should be misfortunate. She blames it on my being born on Friday the 13th, sliding into the world feet first, causing her intense pain, which she still remarks on today.
”AS IF ITS MY FAULT I DIDN’T ASK TO BE BORN”
I had the misfortune to have very curly brown hair and green eyes, unlike the rest of my family. Mother is still convinced that I was swapped at birth.
”SURELY SHE CAN’T BE SERIOUS!”
All through school I was teased as my hair kept very short and looked like a brillo pad. My teeth were a bit crooked and then I sprouted a big head and shoulders above my peers. I suffered various nicknames, most of them not at all nice. I did have friends off and on through primary .
”WHY DO PEOPLE JUDGE ME ON LOOKS”
Coming into my own, as senior school beckoned. No more short hair, my mother, aghast at my rebellion, took it even further and asked the dentist for a brace to sort my teeth out.
”FROM NOW ON IT’S MY LIFE TO LIVE AS I WANT”
Many battles commenced. Being slim, not skinny as my dear mother called me, I started wearing shorts and thigh high skirts and dresses .
”NO MOTHER I AM NOT A TART”
Through my teenage years my confidence grew, even doing a bit of catwalk modelling. With each year my supposed misfortune actually turned into an asset. My corkscrew hair, now flowing long, turned heads, some in admiration, some in envy. Straight teeth felt wonderful. Modelling paid for me through university .
”YOU WERE MY MISFORTUNE! I FOUND MY OWN FORTUNATE LIFE!”
