I am Michelle D. Carter. I was previously known as Michelle D. Refior (ráy-fur). I took my husband’s name when we wed. I didn’t ditch my middle name to keep my maiden, nor did I hyphenate to keep both names. I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about my maiden name. It was my sperm donor’s name (a.k.a. biological father). It meant nothing to me. I was ridiculed my whole life, well not my whole life, just the forming years. Elementary school, middle school, and yes, even high school. I’ve been called rēē-fēr, rēē-fōr, rēēf-ē-ōr. Not fun for the big fat outcast.
I was born and raised in rural Nebraska. I graduated 5th in my class of 56. I was named an alternate to a four-year scholarship. This set the stage for most things in my life, good, but not good enough.
After I graduated from college (May 1991) with a Bachelor’s Degree in Business Administration emphasis in Accounting. I spoke with my cousin on Monday, she offered me a place to stay rent-free until I found a job. By Thursday I had decided to move to Kansas City. So the newly degreed accountant moved to the big city with big dreams and aspirations.
I worked in Accounting for the next 10 years. For the most part, I enjoyed it. I had broken out of my “not good enough” rut and was successful at climbing the corporate ladder and the respect of my colleagues and superiors. Then I got bored and wanted more freedom. I would prefer to walk into work, not socialize (I was never part of the “in” crowd in school), get my job done, and leave after seven hours rather than screw around and have to stay for nine hours. However, the perception was, you needed to put in over-time, regardless. I just had my first child, a little girl, and I wanted to spend time with her.
So I purchased a start-up franchise business. At that time, I lacked the discipline to make it thrive. I then became pregnant with twin boys (without fertility) and decided it was time to close the business to focus on my family. After three years of staying home, it was time to enter the work force again. I knew I wanted to do sales. An opportunity became available for a local home health, hospice and IV therapy company. Yes, I was selling death. As bizarre as it sounds, I enjoyed it. It really was about helping people. Approximately, ten months before my departure, I got a new supervisor. She did whatever she had to do to make herself look good, you know the type, stepping on anyone who got in her way. Her agenda included forcing out the current sales staff to bring in “her old team.”
In August, 1996, I met the man of my dreams, Tim a.k.a. the Big Wuss. I didn’t really like him at first. I thought he was too yuppish for me. Our first get together, Tim calls the gang-date. It was a group of people getting together for drinks. Tim shows up late and leaves early. He had tickets to some play. I’m not into that sort of crap so, WHATEVER, YOU STUCK UP SNOB. The next weekend we met for drinks again. This time it was just two other friends who stayed long enough for us to have a couple drinks. Tim had planned an evening of miniature golf. I needed to let my dog out before I went anywhere. My neighbor normally would have done it for me, but I couldn’t get ahold of her. I asked Tim if he wanted to follow me home so I could let Hallie out, then we could go from there. By the time we arrived, my neighbor was home and we decided to hang-out at her house.
There was always a party going on at Karen’s. We were having a good time and then shots started flying. We went to a bar with my neighbor (neither of us was in any condition to drive). While at the bar, Tim goes into the bathroom and tosses up several rounds of shots and the appetizers he’d ate hours ago. I had drank the man under the table. Yep, he’s a yuppy if he can’t drink like I can! I don’t know how he made it home that night, but somehow he did. We spent the rest of the weekend with friends at their lake house. Two weeks later we were living together. A year later, in September 1997, we were married. I love him dearly and we make some pretty cute kids too!!
Now I’m enjoying life at home with my kids. I started this blog in May 2008. My goal is to help others by sharing my trials and tribulations, or, at least, bring some humor to their day. I’m learning you need to take everything with a grain of salt, and a shot of tequila; otherwise, it will kill you. I tend to come off as a stand-offish bitch. Hopefully you’ll realize I am inferior and terrified of what people think of me. This is my therapy.
