Not in a million years did my mom ever think that I’d grow up and become a lady.

By definition, being a lady means not chewing with your mouth open, not airing your flatulence problem in public, or burping, not talking loudly, or fishing out wedgies, to name a few.

These are embarrassing facts, but nonetheless they are true.

You see, I, Nicole M. Gawel, was the epitome of the exact opposite of a lady. Growing up, my mom would be utterly embarrassed to take me out. We would go shopping and as I trailed behind her, I was little mind you, under 10 years old, picking some sort of something on my body.

One of my biggest fetishes was feeling carpets in stores. I liked textures, still do, but refrain from bending down to touch a germ-infested carpet. Thank God I grew out of both of those nasty phases.

There was a time when I knew my mom thought that she would never be able to train me into the lady I should eventually become. It’s even safe to say that she had given up. I’m not sure at what point I learned to grow out of these phases, but I did. And thank God I did because I don’t think if I was still doing the childish things I once did I would have any friends, relatives or potential suitors within 100 feet of me.

For Mother’s Day, I treated my mom to a tea party at a tea house in North Tonawanda. I was proper and I think, to some extent anyway, I proved to my mom that I was well in contention of becoming a proper lady. I would hope, though, to think my mom had already thought this of me upon entering high school.

Something else my mom would have never thought I’d grow out of was probably the most awkward fashion stage of my life. Currently, I take my fashion to the highest level. It is one of THE most important things in my life, but as a third grader fashion was not on my top 10 list, it wasn’t even in my top 100 list.

In third grade, I hate to admit this; I used to wear baggy shirts, 10 times too big with jeans. Gasp! When I reminisce and look back at photographs of my life I cringe when I get to that phase in my life. My grandma and papa used to call my sloppy and that was being kind. I looked like a ragamuffin.

I don't know at one point the transformation took place. Maybe all along I just had to wait to grow up in order to become a lady.

To this day I don’t know how my mom could have stood being seen with me. I was a wreck. My mom must have really loved me. I salute my mom for putting up with my awkward, mean, bratty, etc., etc., etc., stages and loved me for me and I guess because she had to since she was my mother.

Thank you Mom for forming me into a lady that you are proud to share tea with and ask to go shopping with and not fear that I may pick a wedgie or touch the carpet any longer.

When given the choice between being fat and happy, or skinny and miserable, which would you select?
For me the answer is simple; I’d pick choosing to be skinny and miserable. I know how that sounds. It sounds superficial, but I’ll use my age as my excuse, even though it should not count for anything.

Ideally, a person should be judges on their personality and inner beauty, at least that is what everyone tells you. In reality though, people are first perceived and judged before their mouth can ever open, meaning appearance counts for so much more than conveyed in society.

I’ll be the first to admit what I do; I judge people on appearance mainly and then when I get to know them my views will change. It’s not healthy, but it’s how I’m wired. It’s how society is; crass, classless and rude. Maybe in a few years when my first grey hair pops up, or my boobs start to sag, or my teeth turn yellow, or worse, I get a wrinkle, maybe then I’ll start seeing inner beauty radiate from the outside. Maybe a curse should be placed on me like Jack Black in the movie “Shallow Hal.” Still though, I don’t know if that would help me or not.

Throughout my life I have never been happy with my weight, making me unhappy anyways, so why wouldn’t I choose to have something good going for me in regards to being able to wear whatever I want if I were skinny? And being skinny would make me happy so I really wouldn’t be miserable in the end. So using my logic being skinny would ultimately make me happy.

Lauren Slater wrote a story for Self magazine, which can be viewed at http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/36202611/ns/today-today_health/, in which she told of her struggles with the same question; be fat and happy or thin and sad.

You see, Slater suffers from depression. The medication prescribed to her would cause weight gain. Was happiness worth giving something up? Isn’t the point of being happy having everything you want and need? For me, having everything I want and need has everything to do with my appearance.

Everyone has their own definition of what makes them happy. Maybe real happiness is not judging anyone and just accepting them in the end for who they are because, if how they look makes them happy, than maybe we should not be so quick to judge them.

Recently, I was cleaning out my wallet and stumbled upon my dusty library card, which got me thinking that maybe I should make the visit with the familiar old friend soon. On the other hand, I now find bookstores to be an inviting place more so, but I’ll get to the reason why later.

Then a friend and I were talking and one thing led to another and he asked me if I had been to the library in a while. My answer was no.

I love books. When I was little and when most kids took cuddly stuffed animals to bed, I was the “unique” one taking stacks of books to comfort me in bed. They were the things that would protect me from the monsters in under the bed, or in the closet. When it was time for lights out I wasn’t the one reading underneath the covers with a flashlight. I would sleep, I just liked the presence of books surrounding me as I dreamt of all the foreign lands I would visit and things I could do when I opened up the cover of the next book I would engross myself in.

My mom would always warn me, pretty much every night as mothers do best, that if I was not careful I would poke my eye out in my sleep with the corners of the books. I survived my childhood unscathed from the books. That is an accomplishment all in itself considering I am a klutz.

One of the places my nana and papa would take me when they were babysitting me was the library. We would listen to stories, or just curl up in a chair and read for hours. When we were done I would come out with piles upon piles of books. My mom would also take me to the library to get my never ending hunger fulfilled.

There is just something about a library that you can find comforting, like a home cooked meal. With its endless shelves of books, big and alluring chairs and coves where you can get lost for hours with the words, the library has always been a special spot for me.

It was only natural that in college I would resort to going to my local library to study my textbooks or catch up on my work. And I went there for a good portion of my freshman year and half of the first semester of my sophomore year, until one fateful day.

I like my privacy, so on that given day, textbooks in tow, I settled into a spot far in the back, behind the research books. I thought no one would be able to find me and only a few would delve that far into the stacks, boy was I wrong.

After about an hour of studying a female who was probably in college as well sat right across from me. When she opened her sack she didn’t withdraw a book to read or study notes, what she brought out was a sketchpad and a pencil.

I was intrigued and although pretending to read my book, I was actually observing her.

What I saw I didn’t much care for. She kept glancing up at me making me feel uncomfortable with each stroke of her hand. I figured out within 15 minutes, (I know that’s a long time) that she was sketching me. I was the object of her sketch.

I didn’t know what to do. On one hand she must have to have this sketch turned in for a class of some sort, but on the other hand she could have asked me if I didn’t mind being her subject. It freaked me out.

When I finally figured out what she was doing I packed up my stuff and left. Maybe I should have confronted her, but I didn’t want her to think I was full of myself or something. Peculiar things like this seem to only happen to me, I must note.

Since that day, I have not been back to the library. Maybe one day I’ll ease back into it with a friend, but until I’m ready for it, you’ll just see be perusing the shelves at the local bookstore.

With the news of the death of Easy Bake Oven Inventor Ronald Howes, I think I’ve figured out my aversion to cooking.

Most little girls are given toys that they can use to be good housewives and mothers later in life like vacuum cleaners and lots of baby dolls.

As a child I had an electric Porsche, always the hottest and must-have toys, and a closet full of the latest fashions, but what I never had was an Easy Bake Oven.

I did have a Fischer Price kitchen though. I didn't use it for a kitchen though, I used it to play restaurant. I was trying to be an entrepreneur at a young age.

Growing up I was more a tomboy than anything else, yet I managed to play with Barbies and dolls here and there to at least hone in on my less than perfect mothering skills, which most likely, and fingers crossed to spare all of humanity, won’t be put to test with real offspring.

If I had asked for an Easy Bake Oven for Christmas or my birthday, I bet I would have grown fond of being domesticated. The only time I put an apron on now is to use my new espresso machine that I got for Christmas.

Why put on an apron to make espresso? Well, the answer is simple. I like to dress for the part. When I make my coffee products I make sure the apron is on just like the baristas wear them at Starbucks.

Two years ago I didn’t even know how to boil noodles.

Yes, I was the girl who in trying to make Velveeta Shells and Cheese threw the shells into the un-boiled water.
It’s sad, but so true.

Now I know enough to boil the water before putting the macaroni in. Picked up that life lesson real quick.

Maybe if I was given an Easy Bake Oven I would have grown an appreciation for baking and cooking. Personally, I don’t see the point in putting so much time and effort into a meal when it takes only minutes to inhale it.

It's not that I CAN'T cook it's that I DON'T want to cook. Those are two completely different things. I can easily whip something up from a box, or my following a simple recipe. One of my bucket list items is to successfully cook a Thanksgiving dinner, although I'm really not ready for that task just yet.

Recently, I’ve been cooking here and there and baking. I’m trying really hard to unleash my domestic diva from within, but it’s proving to be more difficult than it looks.

Maybe for my birthday I’ll get that Easy Bake Oven to practice and hone in on my skills. I’ll keep my fingers crossed.

I received the confirmation text at 11:08 a.m. Thursday, Feb. 11.

I was on the team. I was on the team!!! I was actually picked for a team!

What team you may ask?

Answer: Star 102.5’s Curling Team, which was composed of Rob Lucas, morning show host, Justin Swain, traffic guy, and me, a producer and fill-in for one of the guys from WGR who had other obligations to tend to.

We were up against WGRZ Channel 2’s Daybreak Team, made up of Jodi Johnston, Andy Parker and John Beard. Heather Ly filmed the festivity.

Next week, during the 2010 Olympics, the Daybreak Team will be airing different Olympic type competitions between various other morning show ensembles.

When I heard the news, I went out to purchase sneakers, I got some with treads, and immediately looked up online to see what curlers wore. Looking up what the whole sport was about was important, but not impending like the fashion aspect of it was. Good ol’ Wikipedia helped me there.

Jodi had the best outfit though for curling. It even contained many articles of jewelry.

I was psyched and pumped. I was more than excited. With my passport in hand I bolted out of my house to arrive at Rob’s house to carpool to the Niagara Falls Curling Club, located just over the border in Niagara Falls, Ontario, Canada.

Both teams were greeted by Murray, the curling coach of Brock University. When we entered the curling arena we were asked to clean off our shoes in this machine that used a spinning wheel to get the access debris off before entering onto the pebble ice.

Murray went over the instructions, the equipment and asked us to give hurling the rock down the ice a try. The ice isn’t as slippery as a skating arena, but it does have its moments.

I was the last one up trying and it was fun. You use the broom to balance as you push off from a track like mount and ride on the handle of the rock until you let it go before reaching the hog line.

Sweeping…now that is a different story. You get winded sweeping harder and faster. It’s pertinent to also outrun the rock, which is difficult at times to do considering your running on ice with sneakers. With sweeping you can definitely feel it in your arms.

In my younger years, I watched curling here and there and it looked easy. The college students who were there helping Murray made it look so easy.

When you take part in certain activities you realize how challenging it is. You realize how hard these athletes work to be the best they can be. You get an appreciation for the sport when you participate in it. Murray and his team of students, when they talked of curling, were so passionate and engaged with it. You could definitely tell they loved it.

After we tried our hand at each part of curling, we commenced our game.

Each of us threw the rock twice. My rock actually landed in a scoring spot, until Jodi knocked it out. But her's was a really good shot. Everyone was good at it, despite all of us being novices, although Andy did have some experience.

Although I cannot tell you the outcome of the competition, as you have to watch it during WGRZ’s Daybreak show from 5 to 7 a.m., I can tell you that it was on-the-edge-of-your-seat exciting.

All in all it was an amazing, one in a lifetime experience. The 2014 Winter Olympics have six great backups if they need them. Check out the video on WGRZ’s Daybreak during the Olympics.

The only disappointment of the experience was not getting my passport stamped.

At Niagara Falls Curling Club they rent out lanes, just like bowling. Maybe, I'll suggest that activity to my friends.

Read Jodi's blog here