So, you might be asking how a girl like me could go from being a bare-chested little kid climbing trees on the golf course and screaming Tarzan, to smoking so many bowls her green eyes turned red? I don’t really know. It just sort of happened.
Well, that’s not exactly true. I did have a plan in mind before I started getting high. And it made perfect sense in my idealistic brain. Or so I thought.
It all started on the first day of junior high. My stomach was doing full-on flips as I combed my hair over to one side; it was then even longer than after camp, almost long enough to look like one of those movie stars in black and white movies. Veronica Lake or Lauren Bacall.
“You do know how to whistle, don’t you?” I said, making a kissy face into the mirror. “You just put your lips together a
