Ok here it goes... on the eighth of December in the year nineteen-hundred and seventy-eight, a child of love, wisdom, and beauty was born into this world... and I was born as well. I was actually born in Oakland, California, although I never actually lived there. I was raised in San Jose, California by my two loving parents and was tormented by an older brother. Of course I was the baby so I was nurtured and loved and I guess you could say, spoiled (although I would call it something more along the lines of being loved). About five years or so after I was born, my parents conceived yet another child and so became the end of the time period that I like to call "Cherie's-devoted-attention-time". This little terror that they created stole all of my love, care, and most of all, my necessary attention, from me. From then on, I had to find other outlets in which I could receive and give the attention and love that I craved and yearned for.




I started off by playing make-believe with my cherished Strawberry Shortcake dolls... nobody knew me like good ol' Strawberry did. I loved her very much, but a couple years later, I met a girl named Barbie. Barbie was a fun gal, wild and free-spirited. Strawberry was too conservative, and her only ambition in life was to bake and pick fruit. I had to gently break off my friendship with her after a bit. Barbie was everything that my maturing mind wanted to be. She had boyfriends galore, and coincidentally, most of them were named Ken. She wore extravagant clothing and drove around in pink Corvettes. I knew that someday I would grow up to be just like her. So I learned from Barbie, how to be a lady...






I soon started my schooling at a small elementary school in the EastSide of San Jose. I was one of the top kids in my class, and was proud of all of my achievements. Alas, I still did not receive the attention that I desired. I continued my friendship with Barbie, but found interest in new friends, my fellow schoolmates. I tried to make friends with the other children around me, but they were so different than me. They wanted to play in sandboxes and swing on monkey bars. All I wanted to do was wear make up and dress up in my mother's high heels. So I kept to myself, becoming very shy and a bit of an introvert. My grades in school continued to excell, and I learned how to keep myself company very well.


A few years passed, and it was time for me to move onto junior high school. I attended the junior high across the street from my previous school, so I was still in school with all of the kids from my last school. I still did well in school, ranking among the top in the class. I was probably among the first of the girls in my class to wear cosmetics as well, which didn't come to much of a surprise. By this time, I was reading magazines like Cosmopolitan and Vogue and Glamour. I was infatuated with beauty, and style, and with learning all of the newest trends. Unfortunately, I was a late bloomer. At five foot tall and sixty pounds, I wasn't much of a woman I guess you could say. I vowed that I would buy breast implants if I didn't grow some real ones in the next couple of years. Unfortunately, my wish did not come true. By my seventh grade year of junior high, all of the girls were becoming curvy and womanly. I, on the other hand, looked like a little boy wearing make up and girl's clothing. I was depressed by my underdevelopment, and I soon started taking a liking to a certain boy at school. To my horror, he found out that I liked him and picked on me and made fun of me for being so skinny. I would come home and cry everyday (excerpt from an episode of Jenny Jones) wishing that I would grow up to be a beautiful woman.

High school soon reared it's ugly head in my direction and I decided to make a change for myself. I no longer wanted to be the girl that everyone cheated off of during tests. I wanted to be cool, and I wanted to hang out with all of the people who were. I started hanging out with trouble makers my last year of junior high, and I started catching the eyes of boys although I was still built like a book. I started sneaking out more often, and went to parties that seniors in high school were attending. By the time I got into high school, I already knew the best places to go when I cut school and I hung out with all of the other bad kids. I was truant so often that my school had dropped two of my classes by my second month of high school. I hung out at school with a few friends from junior high, but I mostly hung out with the senior boys. I partied more and more frequently, and soon I was returning home once or twice a week only to pick up clothes. My sophomore year of high school, my mother decided that she could no longer tolerate my erratic behavior and she decided that the only way to change me was to move me away from my friends and to the small town
of Los Gatos. This only angered me further, and I stopped going to school altogether. I spent countless days in my Dean's office discussing with my weeping mother what I was going to do to make up the school that I had missed. The resolution that they came up with was that she would take me to school everyday herself and make sure that I actually went. This did not stop me. I ended up leaving as soon as I got there. Me and a couple of friends would break into houses that were for sale and we would hang out and engage in a couple of illegal activities. I'll just say that it involved Zig-Zags... even after all of the mayhem that I had caused at my school, my Dean still wanted to try to keep me in that school although by law, I was supposed to have been in a continuation school after missing a month of school. She insisted that we try and work things out because my test scores were so high. She spoke with my teachers and although I hadn't attended class very often, my teachers all spoke highly of me from the work that they did see. Regardless, I decided that it was my life and I dropped out of high school by the end of my sophomore year. I decided it was time for me to save up so that I could move out.


I got my first job at Mrs. Fields Cookies in the local shopping mall. I was referred to as Mrs. Fields so frequently that it made me puke. Literally. I would get so sick from the smell of chocolate that I would have to run to a bathroom to alleviate my nausea. After four months of working there, I moved on to working in junior women's retail at Contempo Casuals. I worked there for quite a while. During this time, I was heavier into the club scene. I had an ID that I had found and it worked to get me past the bouncers at all of the best clubs. By the time I was seventeen, I met my first serious boyfriend. Well, he wasn't serious but I was. I soon had some money saved up and my cousin and I got an apartment together. I worked in retail for a year or so more, and moved on to working the nine to five daily grind in the office of a stock firm. I couldn't take waking up in the morning, and a rash of other problems started coming up. I needed to make real money, and really fast.


A friend of mine had considered becoming an exotic dancer for one of San Francisco's top-billed clubs. I went to a couple of amateur nights with her to check out how it worked and to see if she thought it was something she could do. She chickened out the couple of times that we went, so she never really pursued it. I couldn't even look at the girls as they walked past me. I told my friend how I could never do what those girls were doing. I was way too shy. Once my money problems started, I came to her for advice. She suggested trying out at the amateur night. I was short a couple hundred bucks, and she told me that the winning girl would take home at least a hundred or two. By this time in my life, I developed somewhat and had a cute perky little body. After a bit of cohersing, I gave her my word that I would do it, although I had planned to flake out once we got there. We went and on the night that I was trying out, there were fifteen professional dancers trying out. I filled out my application, still with the intent that I wouldn't be actually doing the contest. The announcer took all of the applications and explained that the prize would be five hundred dollars to the winner. I thought about it long and hard and decided that I should actually try it. I needed the money and I had nothing to lose. So I watched as girl after girl went up and did her thing on the stage. Most of them were swinging around the poles like pros, and doing the splits, and other tricks. I was trembling with fear when the DJ called my name out. I went up and did the worst show that anyone has probably ever done on that stage. I was terrible and my routine screamed amateur. It was terrifying and I thought I was going to die. My five minutes were finally up after an eternity and I got off of the stage humiliated. My friend and I decided to stay even though I was sure it was over for me. They finally called us all back up to do the finalist judging by audience approval. I ended up being one of the three finalists and we were instructed to do a dance off. All three of us were to battle it out on the stage at the same time. I did everything that I could think of to be sexy, but of course now that I look back on it, it wasn't. The contest ended and they were doing the final judging by audience once again. I think it may have been all of the screw ups or maybe it was because of the fact that I was really an amateur, but whatever it was, I took home the top prize. I decided that I didn't want to dance but a manager at the club told me that I could make massive amounts of money if I tried it out. I thought about it for a while and tried. I ended up working there for a couple of years, off and on.




I continued my relationship with my boyfriend at the time. Things weren't working out because I started to model soon after I started dancing and also because of the dancing. Problems became a normal thing for us and breaking up no longer meant any hurt or sorrow. I found dancing and modeling to be that replenishment to the loss of attention that I had felt earlier in my life. The more I did either of the two though, the more he and I fought. We finally broke it off officially before I turned twenty-one. I decided that this was a perfect time for me to pursue modeling. With no distractions to keep me from concentrating, I started to do more and more work within the modeling scene. Soon I started in the import model scene, and with the experience that I already had with other modeling, it wasn't hard for me to get my foot in the door.







I managed to keep myself so busy that it became hard for me to have any personal relationships. I met one guy after the break up of me and my ex, and we started dating for a short spell. Things started to go sour once again due to the modeling and the lack of time that I was able to devote to him so we broke things off after six months or so. Since then, I have been devoting all of my energies to my modeling career. I accepted the title of Miss Hot Import Nights at the end of December of 2000 and have since been touring with them.







I can only begin to imagine what stories I will be able to tell five, ten, maybe even fifty years down the road. Only time will tell I guess. I will say that I will be pursuing a career in photography, and if that doesn't work out, I guess it's back to school for me. Of course this is not the end of my bio, because I have so much more ahead for me in my life, but we'll call it a day for now. If you've gotten this far, then I'd like to thank you for reading about me. I know I am far from being one of People's most intriguing people of the year, but hey, I can fantasize, right? ;) Only God knows where I'll be next...