chapter 2: before there was the bad tom, there was the good tom

i’ve blocked out most of the memories of my childhood. either that or a have a bad memory. either way, i don’t remember much of it.
as a small girl, i lived in the richest county in virginia. you’ll remember what i said about being underprivileged and i will say again how hard it was. instead of having our own pool, we had to go to the community pool. but we grinned and bore it, and i think i’m a better person because of it.
you see, when i was 2 years old, i thought (rightly so, i might add) that i was invincible. i still think this today, which is why i have no insurance, jump out of planes, and have black friends. as it turns out, invincibility is skill that is only perfected by practice and isn’t simply acquired at birth or caused from being a super hot alien with x-ray vision (that’s right alf, i’m looking at YOU).
at any rate, when i was 2 years old, i almost drowned in the underprivileged community pool. luckily for me, it was at the precise moment of my almost drowning that i mastered the art of being invincible. in fact, for a brief stint, i was the black knight in monty python but i ultimately had to leave for contractual reasons. (john cleese was ripping me off)
once i became invincible, i decided that the only course of action was to pursue a life of daring physical feats or as american housewives so unglamourously call it ‘tom boyism’. being a tom boy meant doing all the fun, cool stuff that the boys were doing like sports and collecting nails and bolts found in home depot.
i also climbed trees when i had the chance. i once saw a cat in a tree that couldn’t get down, so i climbed up, sat on the limb next to it and laughed. i then climbed down the tree, leaving the cat to a horrible fate of a diet of only oak leaves and sap lite. he’s still there today, and he’s grown a beard and holds council sessions for all female birds who don’t understand why their husbands are so much more attractive than them.
another part of the tom boyism was shunning all things girly. all the tom boys in my neighborhood would hold weekly meetings (of which i was the overseer and treasurer, of course) to talk about how we hated tea parties and the colour pink. these meetings often evolved into riots and we once took out an entire chain link fence in our frenzy. only 3 people were severely injured.

i still don't know the difference between an autobiography and a memoir

chapter 1: facing hardship in uncertain difficulties of bad times
i was born to a terribly underprivileged family. i later was the sole reason that they rose from obscurity to be the american royalty that they are today, but i’ll get into that later. right now, it’s only important to understand that i was a poor downtrodden soul. well, nothing besides the incredible talent that very few people have; the ability to make everyone think you’re amazing at something, even when you suck.
this may have been from my dazzlingly good looks. as a child, i was often cooed over and admired by the adults. i would sit in my high chair and smile, wink, and every now and then give kissy lips to my group of admirers who were my parent’s friends. they laughed and cooed some more. much like in those unrealistic flash back moments in sitcoms where everyone is laughing like a bunch of morons and though the situation might be conceived as humourous, you can’t help but feel an air of superiority creep into your soul as you watch.
this was my entire childhood. but please remember, i was underprivileged. because the fact that i’m underprivileged establishes me as the underdog protagonist, which no one can help but root for. when i win the nobel prize for being awesome in chapter 17, no doubt you will cry when i once again remind you, i was underprivileged.