iknowyoulikeit

I just don't know where to begin, so I guess I'll go back to the very beginning. After all, it's my story and I can't think of a better subject than.......well, ME!

Mother says that I slid from the womb ready to shop. I must have, because my earliest memory is of the shiny marble floor in the shoe department at Neiman Marcus. There were so many pairs to choose from. Since I've never been good at making decisions, I chose them all. It was at that moment, at the tender age of 3, that I opened my first instant credit. I still have the credit card, all gold and pretty with "Pat" embossed across the front and Neiman Marcus silhouetted in the background. Personally, I think the 2 names are synonymous.

Mother used to tell me that my name was special. I mean, think about it, P-A-T. Tell me that you didn't think that it's the acronym for Pretty And Talented!!!!!

That leads to the next chapter, my talent. I know a lot of people won't agree that being beautiful and sophisticated is a talent but that's because they just don't understand!!!! I say to those "people", you try eating a Caesar's salad at the Polo Lounge of the Beverly Hills Hotel, smiling, all the while not getting a single drop of that delicious creamy, sweet dressing on your Hermes blouse, keeping your Mac lipstick from losing it's freshly applied shine and surviving it all on a 3 martini buzz without getting lettuce stuck between your teeth. If they walked a single step in my Jimmy Choo's, then they'd understand!!!! Well, back to my talent..... it wasn't something that was just given to me or that I found on the street like a lucky penny, it was something that I earned. It was a summer day.  I was wearing my Jean Paul halter and a cute little pair of YSL cutoffs (Of course, I didn't really cut the pant legs off, they were styled that way) my Ferragamo low heel open toes, accesorized with all the right jewels. My driver wasn't available that day. I don't remember the exact reason why, something petty like his mother was dying or something, so I was forced to fend for myself. My cell was on the fritz, so I couldn't call a cab (besides, taxis smell like "people" and that is just unacceptable) and as you can imagine, a "bus" was just out of the question, so I decided to walk. Down the hill I went. It was like I was on auto pilot. I didn't see or hear anything until I smelled one of my favorite scents...............................diamonds!!!! It was there, smack dab in the glass encased tomb of precious stones that only Harry Winston can craft, that I heard a voice. And that voice said, sweetie, you oughtta be in pictures. Never one to be bashful (well, there was the time my bosoms popped out of my Gucci tube dress at the Golden Globes as I was kabitzing with Tom and Nicole {and I swear I saw Tom's little pecker salute in gratitude}that my cheeks turned the slightest shade of Chanel's "ever so rose" blush, but I'm sure anyone in my situation would have done the same) I turned around and said, "Tell me something I don't know". Yes, buzzneters, it was at that moment that I became engaged to the one thing that loves me most in this world (more than Tiffany, Gucci and Chanel combined).................the photgraphic lens!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This is the first of many installations of, "The story of Pat". I'm sure, soon to be made into a major motion picture or, at the very least, a Lifetime for Women mini-series.