Here are a few items I piled on daily:
• Gold name plate, with Lori in cursive writing.
• Gold initial ring, little l big A little f, also cursive writing to match my nameplate.
• Gold bracelet, with Japanese style writing LORI.
• Gold Saints Ring, with three gold disc charms with pictures of Catholic saints dangling off of it.
• Gold hoop earrings, large.
There was absolutely no question as to what my name was.
We all wore a butt load of gold in the eighth grade. Living in Tampa, Florida, the gold stood out on our brown skin like we were all wearing reflective bike gear. We would blind each other when outdoors, our various body parts reflecting off of the glare of the excruciating Florida sun.
If we were “going with” someone (where the hell were we going? We were 13 years old?) We would exchange our gold with our significant other. It was kind of like wearing a boys letterman’s jacket in high school, but for younger kids, and much more expensive.
My name hung around various boys’ necks, sometimes a ring was on one guy’s pinky while another hung around another guy’s neck on a chain (classy.). Most of the time I wasn’t actually dating any of these people, I just liked boys. Like crazy. And I liked seeing something that was mine on them. Lots of them.
My parents, on the other hand, did not enjoy noticing my missing nameplate that had suddenly been replaced by a giant medallion, with two playboy bunnies (a boy bunny-both ears up, and a girl bunny-one ear down) facing each other with the word LOVE between them.
“What the hell is that?” my dad asked.
“It’s a boy at schools. He let me borrow it.”
“Get your jewelry back, and Jesus Christ, take off those bunnies!”
Of course that didn’t deter me, I would put on the bunnies on when I got on the bus on the way to go to school and take them off on the way home.
I liked the bunnies. They belonged to a boy named Rocky (no lie) who I liked to hold hands with, flirt like crazy with, and exchange gold with.
I wore other boys’ nameplates, ID bracelets, and gold nugget bracelets. I was a free agent.
A free 14-to-24-karat-agent.
Ahhh, so many boys, so little time…
When Sex and the City first came out, Carrie Bradshaw made nameplates cool again.
I was so mad at myself for selling all of my precious gold, unloading it long ago when I needed some extra cash - thinking that these gaudy things would surely never be back in style again.
Oh, what I wouldn’t give to have that cursive gold “Lori” back around my neck again!
And I wouldn’t let anyone else wear it, I would keep it just for me.
Dad would be proud.
|Yet another boy with a moustache.|
Me and Rocky.