“Hi Lora, you can call me Delilah if you like,” said the smiling doctor searching my face for clues. I squirmed uncomfortably wondering what was really behind that big, phony smile. The doctor was sort of young and pretty. She wore a navy- blue blazer with a short pencil skirt, overgrown shoulder pads, rolled-up sleeves, big hair, and her make-up was overdone. It was 1986. Her book-worm glasses precariously clung to the tip of her nose as she looked up from her chart at us. In a final, desperate attempt to help me, my mother had dragged me to a shrink.
So, I've made a pledge to myself that I will not look at it anymore. And, the same goes for the first twenty pages...I think. It's hard to restrain myself. I'll just take baby steps and vow to refrain from the first five paragraphs. I think I can do that.