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Bad Enough For You

It started in the fall of 1979. My parents met in their freshman year of college and dated immediately because they were both pre med. They dated though out medical school and when they were 25 they pumped out my older sister Emily. Then eight years later, a surprise to them, I was born. Emma Marie Witman. I think that I was their only mistake, the only thing that wasn’t planned and the only thing that didn’t do without a ten page pr- con list first. They are both doctors, everything calculated and planned, except me.

My parents, those oh so important doctors, couldn’t deal with me for my last year in high school before I moved on to college. ONE YEAR they couldn’t put up with me, couldn’t deal with horrible old me. Their seemingly perfect resolution was to send me away to Towson, Maryland, a suburb of Baltimore. They didn’t just pick the other side of the country for no reason, oh no, no. It was just two little towns away from my horrible aunt and uncle on my mothers side and 3,000 miles away from my parents in Settle, Washington. They couldn’t have picked California or anywhere else for me to move to, but at least I didn’t have to actually live with my vomit worthy aunt and uncle. My parents rented me a one bedroom apartment above a small deli and were sending me to the public high school that was in town, all alone, not knowing a soul.

It all started the night I told them that I didn’t want to be a doctor, I didn’t even tell them what I really wanted to be, which would have made them want to keel over and die.