If I love it, it came from my mother. If I hate it, it came from my father.

I was only seven when I lost my mother, and yet I consider myself lucky because I have memories of her.  I remember wanting to be just like her. She was pretty, and kind and I loved her so much.

My Father isn't someone I talk about because I dislike him very much.  He's immature and plays the victim card every chance he can, he's an all around bad person.

There are things I love about myself.  I love my nose, it's perfect and it's my mom nose, I want to get a nose piecing, but don't think my boss would like that.  I enjoy being on the shorter side of height, my mom was short too.  My mom enjoyed baking and sewing and so do I. I.  I love my legs but I have to be honest I think I got those from 4 years in Marching Band.

There are things I hate about myself as well.  I hate my hairline, it's gives me a huge forehead (or fivehead as my lovely boyfriend says...But never about me) I hate my chin, it's a butt chin and it's ugly, I can be very needy at times and I have a huge desire to have everyone like me.  These qualities all come from my father.

The biggest insult my brother and I have ever used to hurt the other is saying "you are just like dad".  Saying this is truly the worse thing you can say to me.  On the flip-side, I can remember being told "You look just like your mother"  Even as a young child it made me beam with happiness, there is no better compliment in the world then knowing I may be even a little bit like her.

My Mom holding my baby brother