My Personal “Dragon”
Picture, if you can, a stubborn blonde-headed blue-eyed eight-year-old girl that, when asked what she wants for Christmas, replies that she wants everything. And she means everything. Not hard to imagine I’m sure, however, picture living with that eight year old. Every dime earned going towards her spoiled wants and “needs” and trying to explain to her in the middle of a Wal-Mart floor that, no, she cannot have a Barbie, and the Barbie ball, and the Barbie movie, and the Barbie book, and the Barbie pretend make-up, nor can she take home the baby of the person that is checking out groceries in front of her, so that she can dress it up. All of this carrying on while she is screaming to the top of her lungs, and every passerby staring in disgust. Feeling guilty, embarrassed, and angry deciding to give into the girl’s list of demands which she has now added to threatening to break out the tears once more. This was just Sunday. Saturday she had set her mind on obtaining a pony, just like the one on “Cinderella” that she could ride to school and show her friends, and on Friday she wanted to go to Sea World, so that she could pet Shamoo and bring him home as a pet and promised to feed it everyday. This little eight year old brat would soon grow to be the sixteen year old brat that I am today, whether I like to admit it or not.
My problem is a bunch of problems combined into one overbearing, bad breathed “dragon” that has grown larger throughout the years since childhood. Growing up in a house with my grandmother and my mom under one roof, and being an only child, there is no mystery about how I became spoiled. My mother gave me everything I wanted, to an extent, growing up. I have never been a “name brand” person and never worried about wearing the right designer, however, my mom always insisted on buying Tommy Hilfiger and Ralph Lauren clothes, shoes, bedding, and everything that is expensive. My grandma also gave me everything that...