For the first few months of my life, I went unnamed; Baby Girl was what was officially put on my birth certificate. When it was finally decided it didn’t matter; my father always called me “Chuck.” He was intent on raising me like a boy. It worked. In fact, I now get mail addressed to “Mr. Alex.”

I was a complete tomboy. My first present was a hammer and my favourite things to do were climb trees, build forts, stand up for picked on kids, play with trucks, collect worms (don’t ask), fish and do sports. However, I wasn’t all boy. I had a complete adoration for dresses (along with Laura Ingalls) and did everything in them. I still do.

As a child I never had an allowance and had to cultivate my own money. I had my first job at eight. I looked after 3 children who were 6, 4 & 2. Sometimes I’d start looking after them at 4pm on a Friday until noon the next day while the parents were gone. I learned how to make dinner, breakfast, change diapers, organise kids and yell a lot.

On the side, I’d to make & sell things like newspapers and magazines. When I was nine, the small change I was making no longer seemed enough so I rounded up the neighbourhood children and had them collect wild flowers, bundle them up and go door to door selling them. I had hayfever so I couldn’t go near the flowers so I had them do all the work. I admit to taking advantage of their poor math skills, giving them something like fifty cents while I took home fifty dollars. I made good money that year.

That same year I couldn’t walk and doctors couldn’t figure out why. My mum took me to a special shoe store and the old man there fitted and made a special pair of shoes that took some of the pain away and I walked for the first time in over two months. He didn’t charge us extra for all that he did. He said seeing me walk was payment enough. Ten years later I went to thank him with some flowers and he remembered me and said he used my story to teach his workers about customer service. I wept when I found out he passed away a year later.

On my tenth birthday and six doctors later, I was told I had a rare bone problem that .03% of the population gets. Of that .05% get one of the 3 conditions I had. Its when you’re born with an extra bone in your ankle where there should be a hole, so you have instead a bone growing through it pushing your ankle apart. The doctors thought the first surgery would be the only one needed. They were wrong seven times.

I don’t blame them entirely, I’m stubborn kept growing the bone back in both ankles.

The name, “Alex the girl” came about when I was in class with another Alex. Because both our names was just ‘Alex’, to differentiate us, they called him “Alex, the boy” and I became “Alex, the girl.” To this day that’s what my mum and friends call me.

I had my first boyfriend at 15. He was 19. I used to take the train late at night to the city to meet him. It sounds all badass but all we did was go bowling.

When I was around 18 and living in England, I used to sing all breathy-like these old swank jazz songs in a supper club. I was this little thing just belting out tunes or being all pouty. Then I’d walk off stage, sit with my friends and they’d wonder where all that came from.

I can sing almost any 50′s tune. Any. You think I’m kidding but I’m not.

Don’t ask me to do it, however, I get embarrassed from attention. If you don’t know I’m doing something, then it’s OK. As soon as someone makes a deal over it, I don’t want to do it.

I’m an introvert who has brilliant extrovert skills. People have a hard time believing I’m shy. Especially when I was cruising the streets as a teenager with my best friend Emily every summer yelling out the window to cute boys “Hey are you fiiiiiiiiiiiiine!”

And yes we cruised to fifties music.

I never owned a car until 2009 though when Emily got her first one in 1991 I referred to it as “ours.” It was such a bad, broken down car that used to omit these poisonous gasses into the body. She couldn’t afford to fix it so we drove with the windows down during winter and wore gas masks. If that wasn’t dumb enough, we drew mouths on the gas masks and drove around in public.

That’s not the only stupid thing we did.

There are only two things I hate – waiting and cold.

I went to New Zealand when I was 19 without knowing anything other than it was warm. I was living in Lake Louise Alberta and it was -30C there. Not liking only two things, I didn’t wait to get out of the cold.

I was in terribly in-love with a boy in Lake Louise. I was not in love with anyone in New Zealand.

I don’t fall in love easily but I crush terribly. It’s more exciting. I once crushed on a bloke for a whole year by just seeing him at the local pub every night. I didn’t want to meet him, just look at him, think about him and just crush. When I did meet him a year later the whole thing was ruined. He bored the shite out of me.

My favourite times of my life so far have been living in Banff Alberta in my twenties and Santa Monica, California in my thirties.

My favourite flat so far was in Vancouver. 400 sweet square feet by the beach. My favourite home was an 18th century stone home in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, despite the fact the basement rivaled that of the Amityville house.

The hardest thing in my life was moving to America in 1999, specifically Nashville. I was nannying illegally to a mean and abusive family, had no money or furniture, had a confused boyfriend, couldn’t understand anyone’s accents and they couldn’t understand mine. Ordering a hamburger was a nightmare.

The biggest lesson in my life was immigrating to America. It taught me that I am stronger than I thought, more grounded than I thought, and was willing to really do what it took to survive. It also humbled the bejesus out of me and taught me that my hair doesn’t do well in humidity.

I’m actually not vain. I don’t own hairspray or a decent brush and eyeliner terrifies me. I do however, adore a little lipgloss and own a $120 hair dryer.

The body part I am most in love with is this little freckle on the side of my hip. I have big hips and a big arse but wouldn’t change either. I’m surprisingly comfortable and in love with my body, probably because I use it a lot, it’s been through a lot and I didn’t grow up in America.

I will admit to wanting to be taller than 5″4..

I’m half Danish, Half French but generally refer to myself as ‘foreign.’ I’ve lived all over the world and feel as though I don’t belong to any one country and, if you heard me speak, would totally agree. My accent is a mutt and I often think about getting voice lessons just so I’m not asked, “Where in Australia are you from?” anymore.

I don’t regret for a moment, however, getting this accent. In fact, I have no regrets except maybe one – turning down a Jones Soda contract. I thought they were just being pervy. Turns out they were being sincere.

Since then, I stopped saying no to opportunity and yes to possibilities. I created a list of 101 things I want to do before I die.

For now, that’s all I can say for certain that I want to do. I still have no idea what I want to be when I grow up although I do have aspirations of collecting stories to tell along the way so when I’m old or perhaps cultivate some wealth I can be like Miss Dinsmore a la Great Expectations or Little Edie Beale. I’m not sure. I do know that I love what I do now but there’s something more I just haven’t found yet.

I keep searching. And beside me is my stuffed dog called “Wrinkles.” It has a dress but it’s a him. Don’t ask it’s been this way since 1987 when I was 13. Wrinkles has been to more countries than most people. Immigration people smirk at me when they see him. They actually don’t give me a hard time about it because they think I’m 19 and it’s cute. I’m actually a lot older and it’s sad.

I often forget that I’m older because I can still remember what it feels like to be 27, 21, 18, 15 or 4. Sometimes I have to remember that bills need to come before Legos and that I have the freedom to stay in a nice hotel instead of someone’s floor when I travel.

I don’t have children and am pretty sure I never will but wish to be a fairy godmother to my dear friends kids. I’m good with them, probably because of the above – I remember. And children for some reason seem to adore me. They stop and stare at me wherever I am, no matter what their age. No one has been able to figure out this phenomenon. Some say it’s the blonde hair, some say its that I look young but they know Im not.I don’t know what it is but I wouldn’t have a hard time getting a date if I were 6.

I love my job and who I work for because it’s personal and has purpose. It took me awhile to get here but it was totally worth the wait. Most good things are, aren’t they?

Last updated: 2011