My childhood nickname was Bunny. Yeah, I know…
I’m overly sensitive about my hair. Has to be perfect or I’m in a funk for the day.
I could live on watermelon and cream cheese. But not at the same time.
I have five tattoos. And only lucky people get to see four of them.
I think the shape of my feet and ears are really pretty.
I have a crazy eye and look drunk in photos when I’m really not. See above.
Unmatched bras and panties makes me uncomfortable.
Spreadsheets turn me on.
I can eat a banana in three bites. I try to hide this talent so I won’t look like a pig.
I hate overhead lights with a passion.
Big dogs make me nervous.
Handwritten love letters make me cry and I’d rather have one than a new diamond ring. Unless it’s two carets then it’s game on.
I secretly want to be high maintenance. Like a Queen Diva high maintenance.
Watching Glee is my guilty pleasure. And if I’m by myself I’ll sing and dance along.
I can clean and filet a fish but can’t eat it.
I suck at telling jokes.
I have a nightmare every time I sleep in socks. What’s up with that??
Seeing a man in blue jeans and a button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up makes me weak in the knees.
I’m a great housekeeper.
I want to throw up when I see the skin on cooked fish.
So does this make me weird? Hope not… I like to think it makes me unique. And special. And fabulous. And magnificent. And wonderful. And did I say that I really like myself?