If my life had a soundtrack, every lousy, rotten,
craptacular moment I’ve endured would be foreshadowed by Bonnie Tyler’s 1983 power ballad, Total
Eclipse of the Heart. It all started November 15, 1983 when, as a
buck-toothed, painfully awkward and nearly six foot tall ten year old kid, my
dad wrote the first of many big fat checks for my orthodontia and I became the
very first kid in Mrs. Hengler’s 5th grade class to have a full set
of shiny, metal braces. What on earth does Bonnie Tyler have to do with any of
this and why am I such an ungrateful brat, you ask? Excellent questions. Allow me
to explain.
With the benefit of hindsight and my own Korean-car sized
investment in my teeth, I’m incredibly grateful that my parents scrimped and
saved to straighten my jacked-up teeth. But in 1983, I didn’t want to stand
out. I wanted to blend in and ideally, disappear. I didn’t want to be the smart
kid or the tall kid or the clumsy kid (although I was all those things) – I desperately
wanted to be average. More than anything, I wanted to be invisible. You know what
makes you visible as heck? Becoming the first metal mouth in your 5th
grade class. I endured orthodontia for four and a half long years. I had three
different orthodontic headgears and I
singlehandedly kept the tiny rubber band companies in business. Before I could
participate in my first real “boy-girl” kiss, I had to deftly remove something
like a billion rubber bands that were cleverly serving as some kind of orthodontic
chastity shield. (Side note: I wasn’t real popular with the boys until college.
Coincidence?)
November 15, 1983 is the day I had my braces affixed. My
orthodontist’s office had zero privacy. Instead, there were two large rooms
filled with dental chairs in every color of the rainbow. They summoned their
snaggle-toothed patients to their kaleidoscopic torture chamber by bellowing
your name and directing you to the “red chair on the left” or the “blue chair
on the right.” On this fateful day, I was summoned to the orange chair on the
right, where I would spent a nearly five hour shift having things stuck to my
mouth. Back in 1983, we didn’t have iPods
or Pandora or Spotify or whatever you cool kids are using to listen to the
tunes now. We had cassette tapes, we had vinyl records, and we had FM radio. Many
businesses relied on the soothing, muffled doo doo di doo doopidy doo of elevator music as
ambient noise, but not my orthodontist. Instead, he had his FM station tuned to
WLTE, the “light rock, less talk” station favored by our parents. No one was
going to turn their FM dial to WLTE and blow the knob off. But if you wanted to
hear some Peabo Bryson
and Roberta Flack; Linda Ronstadt, or Pointer Sisters – this was
your station. And on November 15, 1983, as I laid upside down in the orange
chair on the right becoming the most visible mouth in the 5th grade,
I heard Total Eclipse of the Heart played six times. Six.
Fast forward a few
years. I’m a sophomore in high school, and I’m getting ready to start my first
day at a new high school – the third school I’ve attended in three years. Total Eclipse of the Heart plays on the
school bus radio and tees me up for the worst school year I can remember. When
I find out that my pimply boyfriend is cheating on me with a younger girl with
greasy hair and a huge nose who puts out - Total Eclipse of the Heart is
playing in the background. The short version of this story is that every single
disappointment in my life felt like it was set to a Bonnie Tyler soundtrack.
Jobs I didn’t get; promotions I was denied; car accidents; flat tires; you name
it. And sometimes Bonnie Tyler predicted some really dark shit too. On my 26th
birthday, I woke up to Bonnie Tyler on the radio and although I turned the
station as quickly as my chubby fingers allowed, it didn’t stop my neighbor
from roughing me up and robbing me three hours later. The day my grandfather
died? Total Eclipse of the Heart. I think you get my drift.
It might be a
musical masterpiece. It might be a beautiful song. I’m a little biased. What I
can tell you is that it’s a l-o-n-g song and I can name that tune in about
four notes – and my cat-like reflexes will have me pouncing to change the
channel, the station, the song to avoid whatever doom lurks around the corner.
Bonnie and her seven minute song about vampire love or whatever the hell she’s carrying
on about enjoyed a lot of popularity in the 1980’s. I enjoyed a temporary
separation from her doomsday predictions during the grunge era but like any
damn iconic song, I’ve never been able to fully avoid it – but here in 2016,
things have gotten out of hand. Bonnie Tyler is being used to peddle Fiber One bars. Her
music is the cure for constipation. And yet, if you’re someone like me, it may
cause metaphoric explosive diarrhea.
I popped into my local coffee shop a few days ago to pick up
some motivation in cup before a marathon day at the office. Because I’m not
always a total dick, I’d taken coffee orders from my colleagues and purchased
four designer drinks to go. The moment I finished placing my order, Bonnie
Tyler began blaring from the sound system. The tweenaged baristas squealed and
said inane things like, “Ohhh! I just love this oldie! What a great song!”
while I made the sign of the cross and wondered what horrific joyride the
universe had planned for me next. Would I spill coffee on my cute suit? Would I
be late to work? Would I break my leg? Or would I get fired? The possibilities
are endless.
I’m a little bit older than I was when I sat in the orange chair
on the right. I’m not necessarily any wiser but I have grown more comfortable in
my own skin. I know who I am and while I still occasionally fight the urge to
fade into the background, I’m not afraid to be center stage anymore. I do my
best work from the wings, though. I’ll be your biggest and loudest cheering
section; your toughest coach; and your confidante. There is no greater joy for
me than to see those around me achieve their goals and reach their amazing potential.
While I will still go into epileptic-type seizures to silence Bonnie Tyler,
just know it’s so I can fulfill my real mission – which is to be the wind beneath your wings.
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