I was 6 years old when my mom made me a miniature wall ornament, in my case with red velvet stripes on it.
I was also taught that decorating a house was an act of self-expression, a way to express myself and express my love for the house.
At the time, it was pretty much an adult thing, and I didn’t care about how I looked.
I loved my parents and I loved being a girl, so I decided to get one.
My dad, a painter and designer, made me these little boxes and gave them to my sisters and me.
I never thought much about them, and when I did, I just took them off and put them on the floor.
My brothers and I would sit and look at them, but I didn´t care.
When my parents came home from work and went to buy something to eat, they would take a box from the pantry and put it on the table.
My parents would go over and take the little box and go back to work, and my brother and I, like other girls, would be bored and we would sit there and watch them do it.
The idea of decorating my house with decorative lights was pretty cute, I thought, and so I got my first ornament at the age of 12.
I didn`t really like it, but my mom liked it.
She didn`s like anything fancy.
It was just a little thing to wear.
I grew up with my dad as a pretty nice guy, so we didn`ve always had a lot of fun together, and she had the same opinion about my little ornament.
So she had it made.
I remember sitting in my room and thinking, I love it, I really love it.
That was the beginning of my love of decor, because it represented something special.
I really wanted to have something that looked like it belonged to me, something that had a little bit of personality.
I thought it would be great to have my own little display of my own.
I made a picture of it and I just wanted to make a picture out of it.
So I went to my dad and said, “I want to do something with this ornament.”
He went, “Oh, I`m so happy that you are putting your own stamp on this, I know you have it,” and he gave me a little box, and he said, I can put a little picture of your picture in the box, because that`s my picture, that`ll be in the ornament, and then we put it in the closet.
My mom went, What?
That`s so weird, she said, No, you don`t have to put a picture in there, you can put anything in there.
So, I made it up and put my picture on the box.
Then, my dad put the picture of me in there and then I put my pictures picture on my box.
It had that little feel to it.
My sister saw it and she said “Oh my God, this is so cute!” and she started crying and then she got the box and she put it under her pillow.
I said, Well, I guess I can`t leave the box on the bed right now, so let`s get rid of it, and we went to get rid.
She said, Okay, what is that?
And I said “That was your picture.”
And then my mom put it right under my pillow.
She took the box off of me and went back to her house, and that was the end of that, because she thought it was a joke.
My father was not really a big fan of my new ornament, but it was very cute, and it had the feel of something that belonged to him.
My little box had a personality and it was so special.
My brother and me liked to put things on the walls, but we didn’t have a lot to do with it, so it was just something that we had to keep and just kind of go about our lives as if nothing had happened.
It really made me feel special and I liked to keep things that were my own and just be a part of it whenever I could.
I had my own bedroom, and sometimes my sister would come over and hang out and look through my windows and I`d get out of bed and look in the mirror and I saw that I was so different.
And I thought that that was what I needed, to have some type of identity and I felt like I had to be a different person to have that.
I felt I had this special place in my life, and they didn`tt have any idea about me, so they didn’t even know what kind of person I was.
My sisters were really upset about the ornament because they didn´tt have much respect for me, and as a result, I ended up getting a lot more attention from them than I ever did.
I got a lot attention