I have control issues. I'm the eldest of four and fiercely independent. High-achieving and competitive, I stole the handwriting style of the girl who sat next to me in third grade because it looked nicer. I've never done well with authority figures. When I was little I was quite the charmer, and I even managed to walk into the principal's office to be disciplined (sobbing alligator tears, of course) and walk out with candy and no punishment. As I grew up, I learned how to do what I liked without anyone realizing that I had my own set of rules.
Some of these rules surrounded food. In the second grade I went through a phase where I painstakingly split my meal into perfect bites that had to be chewed and swallowed in 30 seconds. I must have looked incredibly odd staring at the kitchen wall's analog clock as I perfected my chewing pace.