Last April I had the privilege of participating in a national show called “Listen To Your Mother.” Being chosen for the inaugural Atlanta cast and getting to perform one of my original pieces in front of a live audience on stage in a beautiful theater was a dream come true and I’ve been anxiously awaiting the day when I could share it with you…and see it myself.
(Emphasis on the word anxiously. Oy.)
Ever since that fateful day in 1977 when I crashed my bike and broke my arm in two places after my brother and I followed our mother’s explicit instructions to “GET OUT. TAKE YOUR BIKES. AND DON’T COME BACK UNTIL THE STREET LIGHTS COME ON,” I stopped listening to my mother.
Leslie (left) and friend circa 1977, from my baby book. Notice the staple.
Unfortunately for me, that was the last time she’s ever been wrong.
She told me not to pierce my ears. Result? Double pierced on both sides at age 13 by some clueless teenaged Piercing Pagoda trainee at the Monroeville Mall. Long term result? Thirty years later my ear holes are about as lopsided as my knockers. Continue reading