I obtained my first job at the ripe old age of eight, My Mother had ask her boss to give me a chance at something I loved, baking. He did and I stated baking specialty cakes. These were small cakes 6". Most kids my age were out playing. I was baking cakes, to me that was fun. By the time I was 10 I had three companies I did these cakes for. The earning me $60.00 a week, that seemed like a lot of money. To be honest I liked the admiration showed for my work more than the money. It lasted 2 years.
At age nine, I attended Luthuran School, I had a crush on a girl that attended. Chris Witz. We hung a blanket over her garage charged the kids a nickel to watch us make-out, earning fifty cents a day. On the bus heading home from school we hit a pot whole, I flew up came down hit my stomach on the hand bar. Later that night my Mother took me to St. Mary's, 90 miles away. I needed surgry. A renond Heart Surgeon Dr. Smith. The only thing I remember was prep him. The next morning I looked at my tummy and I started to cry. All I wanted was to go home. I remained in that Hospital for almost 1 year. Later I found out that Dr. Smith saved my life. The fluids from my intestines were contaminating my organs. Needless to say I lost my business. Once I was released I was placed in Franklin Junior High, I hated I was an easy target for bullies. My sister for some reason convinced her boyfriends brother I was a spoiled and received everything I wanted including one of the very first mini-bikes I paid for myself. My sister had no ambition except this guy. She disliked me so much she paid a guy to beat me up. I hated school after that. Although I stilled loved my sister I did want to be around her. We moved to MI.
In MI. I attend East Kentwwod high school and got a partime job at Ramada Inn at night. I worked and bought me a 1967 red Firebird. The first being a freshman to own their own car. That brought me more enemies. I had nice clothes even if I was concidered a hippy, I like nice things, I had been working seince age of 8, I paid for everything myself. So there I was being beat to a pulp again for having my own car and nice clothes. I was starting to hate my life where once I had loved it.
Veronica Belmont - about.me user since 2010
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