The Story of an American Girl
Blonde. Blue-eyed. And female. Society’s stereotypical ingredients for a dingbat. Surely I had no choice but to receive those arguably attractive, superficial traits that shape my daily life, dictate who I am, and determine my future. Oh, that’s rubbish! Of course I had a choice in who I would become and where I would end up. My older sister, my twin sister, my little brother, my mom, my dad, my husband, and our daughter shaped who I am today. The disposition God programmed into my soul probably had something to do with it too.
Some have said that I’m an overachiever, or that I can do better. Some have said I’m aggressive, some that I’m charming. Some have said I’m a wimp, some that I’m too direct. Some have said I’m a follower, some that I’m always one step ahead. Some have said I’m a wingman. Some have said I’m prickly (go figure), and some have just called me a pushy little fucker.
Mom says I’m a pretty girl, and smart. But she says that to my sisters, Sherri and Krista, too. She also says I’m a good listener. Dad says I’m level-headed and responsible. Krista says I’m as beautiful as my favorite color, light blue. My husband Gunther says I’m his pebble, and that I have the prettiest smile in the whole world. Our daughter, Olivia, says every night when I put her to bed, “You’re the best.”
I say that action and performance speak more truthfully than the spoken or written word. And yet here I am writing a book. What’s that all about?
In a word, a contradiction.
Well, no… my story is about love, cheerful and inspiring addiction, determination, failure, achievement, heartbreak, courage, discipline, fulfillment, joy, faith, sports, flying, and being a girl.