Babies who Hate...Become Lovely Adults

This is the first of my "Am I even Funny (and other concerns)" life story posts. Be in awe. ;) If you don't know what I'm talking about then read my last post. Let's get started. You know how most babies are cute little slobber goobers who love kisses, cuddles and just love in general? I was not one of those babies. I was a baby who hated. Much to the disappointment of my dear old dad, my baby self hated him. He couldn't hold, kiss, cuddle, or even really look in my direction without me bursting into the sort of tears that make you want to play it like Van Gogh and chop off not one but two of your ears. Luckily he didn't take it too personally because I did this to everybody who wasn't my mom. As the story goes I apparently had the unique -at least to babies- ability of having the glare of a thousand suns and I frequently employed this ability when I was in the arms of 99% of the human population. You're probably wondering why I'm so openly sharing with you all the fact that I was apparently born a demon. Well, let me tell you all a different story that will tie it together.

{F21: scoop neck basic top similar, pearl heart stud earrings similar; Charlotte Russe: white wedges similar; Nordstrom: infinity ring similar; Skirt: vintage, inherited from my grandma similar here, here, and here}

The day I was born the sun was shinning, the flowers were especially bright, the grass was green and the heavens parted as I made my entrance into the world and the doctors were in awe of my awesomeness. Haha, as if. My actual birth story went more like this. It was four weeks before I was even due and in the middle of the night my mom awoke with horrible contractions. Seeing as I decided to make my glorious appearance four weeks early I had no name. In a cute story that involves my grandma and dad both writing up separate lists of names on which they both wrote down Allexis, I was given a name. I know, tear inducing right? Anyway, after her c-section my mom says that the doctors doped her up so much that she hardly new what was going on. All she remembers is seeing me and thinking I looked like Snow White (coincidentally my least favorite princess) hair black as night and skin white as snow. I of course have no proof of this because there are literally no photos of me until I'm a few months old. My parents claim this is because since I was premature they had no time to get a disposable camera (oh the 90's!). I know better...I'm adopted. Ha, just kidding. I look too much like them to be adopted. Anyway, the point of this story was actually to share the significance of my name (not my secret belief that I may have been adopted). My name means: defender of mankind. Pretty nifty right? I mean, I was clearly meant to be a superhero! Maybe I'm meant to defend mankind with my unique glaring abilities. Alright, alright, back on track. Anyway, throughout the subsequent years of my life I lived up to my name. I have striven to defend mankind endlessly and I try to truly love and see the good in every human on this planet. Key word here being try, it isn't always easy. The point of all of this rambling is that even though I was born a hateful baby I grew up to be a perfectly adequate and loving adult. Aw the classic tale of spawn of Satan baby turned loving angelic adult, touching right? ;) So, what's the meaning of YOUR name? I'd love to hear, email me or comment below!

Much Love! 

P.S. I feel the need to point out that I now very much adore my Dad. He is possibly one of the sweetest humans I have met thus far. Also, I love this vintage skirt that I was able to get from some of my grandma's things. It makes me feel like a fine lady straight from the 60's or a chic little ballerina!

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