Autobiography of a Simple Girl...Yeah Right.

Topics: Mother, Family, Father Pages: 3 (1267 words) Published: April 17, 2013
[ Alicia V. ]
February 1st 2013


How does one start an autobiography? I tried reading some other works and some would start off with "Hello my name is..." or "I grew up in a blah blah blah". Nothing seemed very inspirational so I guess I'll just start with my name.  Alicia. It's just a simple name. I was born on a Friday. My mother was born and raised in Puerto Rico until she was 25, she moved to NYC the late 80s. My dad was born and raised in the Dominican Republic until he was 22; he too decided to move to NYC in the70s.  They met at some warehouse in the late 80s and around '89 they started living with each other. Then in January '91, I decided to be free from the comfortable womb. I figured it was time to explore the world.

So of course with my Puerto Rican and Dominican parents the only language in the house is Spanish.  My dad worked at a school as a janitor and my mother was a babysitter with 14 kids in our small apartment in the Bronx. That till this day, we still live in that small Bronx apartment that is now an official daycare.

I was my mom's one and only and she worked so hard so I could get whatever was best for me. She would buy fabric and by the end of the week, I would have a new dress ready to show off to the world. She would match whatever outfit I was wearing with my shoelaces, if I happen to be wearing sneakers.  I was her doll. I was her baby.

Until I was 5, my dad would take me to the barbershop and get my boyish haircut, basically and small little fro.  I don't what in the world was going through my parents mind but I looked like a boy if I didn't wear a dress until I was 5. This isn't even a joke. When I was four I looked like 6 year old, so anyone who would walk past would say, "Wow, that little boy of yours is so adorable". And then my mother would say, "She's a girl".  My mother told me that they would just walked away out of embarrassment. I think around the fifth or sixth time someone has said that my mom...
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