One of the earliest memories I have growing up was when my older sister, Cyndy, gave me a Garfield mug for my birthday. The mug had a picture of Garfield rowing a canoe with the yellow dog from that show (whatever his name was) on it, but they were each trying to row the canoe in a different direction. The mug showed a thought bubble over Garfield's head that read, "I'm easy to get along with...as long as things are going my way." That was the first time I remember realizing that, perhaps, I could be a bit stubborn. The older I get, the more prevalent this characteristic has become. I blame it both on my stubborn father (the older I get, the more I realize I'm my father's daughter, as well) and my birth order place as the middle child. I'm sure that at some point, I tired of doing what my big sister was telling me to do, and complying with my baby brother's wishes. My only option was to dig in my heels and be firm about what I was going to do. Old habits die hard. I am definitely a stubborn person.
8 years ago