Read You're Not Pretty Enough for Free Online

have fun.”
    “Oh, OK,” I’d say, rolling my eyes. These are just boys, I’d think about the kids in my high school. Jon is a man.
    My mom glanced at me sideways, looking like she was filing this moment under, “Is my kid crazy?”
    Though I was certain I was the only one who truly understood Jon, I was self-aware enough to know that others liked him too. When Bon Jovi announced their Slippery When Wet tourdates, two friends and I strategized on the best place to camp out for tickets. Our plan required
     waiting in line overnight at the mall, and my mom was not immediately onboard, but I wore her down.
    “Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease?” I said, face scrunched in pain, hands clenched, and arms stiffly by my side as
     if I’d freeze that way if she said no.
    “I don’t know…”
    “Mom, the Mentor Mall is across the street from Margie’s, so if anything goes wrong, I can just go there. PleasepleasePLEASE?” Margie was my
     mom’s friend, so it was tough for her to say no.
    “Geez, OK. Just…relax.”
    “Thank you,” I said, hugging her tightly. “Everything will be fine, promise!”
    It was snowing on the evening we were to set out, and our
     parents protested lightly, but once that permission is granted, teenagers would rather go through hell than give it back. So, off we went: Jill and Diane and me.
    We didn’t even make it out of Newbury, Ohio, our small
     hometown.
    On Route 87, two miles from my house, we hit an icy patch of road. We spun sideways and wound up half in the road and half in a field next to Skip’s Tavern, one of six local bars serving a total population of about
     forty-five hundred. We sat stunned for a second, all in the front row—Jill in the driver’s seat, me on the passenger side, and Diane in the middle. I looked out to the road and could see car lights a ways ahead coming toward us.
     We all watched, thinking the car would swerve around the part of us still in the road, but as it got closer we knew.
    “Oh my God, he’s gonna hit us,” said Jill. It’s so weird, but in that moment we were all completely calm. I was keenly aware that being
     on the passenger side, I would get the direct impact, but we did nothing but stare at the headlights.
    The next thing I remember, the police and medics were hovering over me along with Jill and Diane. The car was in the middle of the
     field and severely damaged. The police called our parents, who came to the scene and told us that the driver was drunk and that if the car had been two more inches in the road, I probably would have died. Luckily, I came out of it
     with only a slight concussion and some bruised ribs. My mom was relieved. After a consultation with the doctor, we drove home.
    “Well, at least I don’t have to worry about you being at the mall all night,” she said.
    But she’d had enough. Once I’d recovered from the concussion, we had a little chat. And by chat I mean that she put me on notice that she would be ruining my life.
    “That’s it! I have had it with this,” she said.
    “What are you talking about?”
    “You have given your life to him: your time, your tears, and now your blood! As of now, this is over.” My mom blamed Bon Jovi for the accident.
    “What’s over?” I asked, trying to keep from getting
     hysterical.
    “No more Bon Jovi. You can listen to the music and watch the videos, but that’s it.”
    “NO! You can’t do this to me. I love him!”
    “You think you’re suffering? I’ve suffered over Jon Bon Jovi
     more than any mother should ever have to!”
    I ran to my room, slammed the door shut, and cried and cried. This is not over, I thought, even if I am livin’ on a prayer.

    ***************
    In 1987, the most popular Top 40 radio station in Cleveland—Power 108—was broadcasting out of Newbury, Ohio. Newbury is about thirty miles
     east of Cleveland, but it might as well have been a different world. Completely and proudly rural, we