When I was three years old, I asked Santa Claus for a gun and a fire engine. I got up early on Christmas morning and rushed into the living room fully expecting to see that Santa made my wishes come true. I was shocked when I saw a Shirley Temple doll waiting in a baby chair by the fireplace for me. When I asked my mother what happened, she said, "Santa Claus knew that you didn't REALLY want a gun and a fire engine." That was just the beginning of everyone but me knowing what I "REALLY" wanted to wear, what games I "REALLY" wanted to play, which friends I "REALLY" wanted to ask to come for an overnight , which books I "REALLY" wanted to read and, what I "REALLY" wanted to be when I grew up. Why did everyone but me know who I was during my formative years?