My “engagement” photo — in all its retouched splendor.
August 29:
I’m always skippin’ for joy on this day, August 29. ‘Cause exactly 51 years ago, I was to be wed. At 19. To a local boy. At a local wedding factory. In my local town. In Joisey.
Funny that I remember the date. But I do.
The breakup — in my tiny orange volkswagon — of course it had flower decals — with THE WHO’s screaming “I’m Free” in the background. Roger Daltrey helped me seize the break-away moment. He’ll always have a special place in my heart. And I am sorry I broke this young boy’s heart. Though he did impregnate my neighbor within 3 months. And married within 5.
On this day, I am so damn grateful to have walked away from a life I was THIS close to. So close that my poor dad never got his $100 deposit back. And 100 bucks was some kind of money back then.
Here I am, 19 — my formal “engagement” picture. It took me 90 minutes to walk out of the house back then — to look “presentable” — I mean, do you see what we use to call “spit-curls?” Oh darling, that alone ate up 20. I think scotch tape was involved. And teeny curlers for “the look.” It now takes me 3 minutes to walk out the door — and I looking better and so much more glorious than this child I do not know.
What near catastrophe did you escape from — what life did you leave far far behind?