The Beginning

That's where all things start, right? I tried to pinpoint when I became wicked, to properly find the beginning for you. Turns out, I just can't seem to do that, must have been a slow transition.

When I checked Websters dictionary (thanks boys) to see exactly how accurate my depiction of myself really was, I found some interesting things, according to the good book ( no offense to anyone here) wicked is as follows
1)morally very bad ( ummm, some might see this as a good possibility with me, I take issue with that, I see myself as very forward and fun to be around)

2)Fierce, Vicious: disposed to or marked by mischief: Roguish (ding! ding! ding! We have ourselves a winner, ladies!)

I won't even go on with the rest, literally because I stopped there. That was all I needed. Research completed, I settled into the next task. What was my first truly wicked deed?

This was simple. I was a nice quiet girl in school, good grades, took care of my younger brothers while my mom worked her way through college at night, then slipped up and got pregnant, oops!
Got married, I'm from Kentucky, ya'll, :), had a son, continued with correspondence courses, kept a household, raised a baby, played the part......

Then I found out I had cancer, at age 19. All bets were off. My parents and aunt were my rocks. They took me to my treatments and stayed with me during the hard times. "he" faded into the walls. (no, I didn't accidentally forget to cap the h in he" So, when I went into remission, I got a job. *gasp* "he" was mortified. "his" heretofore, do as she was told childbride was developing opinions and a mind of her own. Egads! What was a guy to do??!!

Wasn't too long before I left. How deliciously wicked it felt. In the pure Roguish sense of the word. Thus began my wicked adventures. Which I will sort through and share with you.

Have I mentioned he was my first sexual experience? Tomorrow I may begin to explain how a wicked girl spends one summer making up for that sort of thing.....................