Growing up, my parents signed me up for all kinds of extracurriculars from gymnastics to girl scouts to the violin in hopes of finding something I would really love. One of these experimental activities was horseback riding. Sounds glam, right? Too bad 8-year-old me was (and still am) terrified of heights, and being perched on those horses seemed akin to being placed atop a skyscraper. As a result, I was assigned to ride an ancient white pony who slowly shuffled me across the course every week. His name was Beetle.
My name is Gloria. I scour the high seas of the internet daily to find the cutest, the beautiful, and the most bodacious.
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