without getting pregnant or herpes

i was the hottest ticket at the fat farm. which seemed only fair considering a) i'd never before been the hottest ticket anywhere and b) i was supposed to be in europe with my friends, not frollicking at a "weightloss resort, nestled in the heart of the pines and the poconos."

my dad, the bidness man, had a modest proposal. lose 'x' pounds by 'x' date and earn a trip across the seas. several months of x-ercise, x-lax, and foodless fridays later, i lost the weight and gained a ticket. then terry called, night before the trip. her voice was weird.

"dad wants you to get on the scales." i did and reported the weight. could hear her consulting with my dad in the background. her voice was weirder.

"dad says that's too much. you can't go. but keep your bags packed."

and there i was, the only kid without tennis shoes. or work-out gear. i did have a french guide book and a raging crush on mike catrona, from brooklyn. he was my ideal, as culled from countless late night ice cream watchings of 16 candles. he came over to me after i played a 'southern girl' in our talent show rendition of 'california girls.'

'i love southern girls.' i zinged back- 'oh, well, sorry. i live in utah.' and started to walk off before he grabbed my hand and kissed me. at fat camp that makes you an item.

there was some kissing, tongues, and feeling up in the darkened gym. but i was a young 14. i hadn't even really started checking out my own parts yet, and you can bet your sweet ass, i wasn't letting this guy beat me to it. so, while stephie brooks was 'blowing david down by the dock' i was trying to get mike to cuddle.

it came as exactly none surprise when he cut me loose with the line 'you're so young. i don't want to break your heart.' my heart felt pretty much intact and i spent the next 6 weeks flirting and wearing lip gloss and feeling the crackle of boy's crushes in my direction. a minor miracle.

at the camp's 'dating game', the eligible bachelor asked me what kind of car i was and why. i'd always felt a kinship to the vw rabbit. but this was summertime me. the shiny hair and tanned calves me. so i said-

"a ferrari."

and the boy picked me. i later found out that mike had quipped "yeah, she's a ferrari. without the engine."

engines? we don't need no stinkin' engines.