I was asked the other night, “How on earth, did someone like you: a minister’s daughter, straight as an arrow A+ student…end up dancing.”
Well, it certainly wasn’t something that I planned. Nor was it a career highlighted by my high school guidance counselor. Although in my opinion, it should be.
Simple, I wanted to afford to eat.
It was October 1999. I had just moved 3300 miles across the country to be with Mr Wrong. Six weeks after arriving in the armpit town of San Bernardino, CA I found out just how WRONG Mr Wrong was for me.