April 1986: During a fire drill at a meeting of my secret club, called, ingeniously, Paradise Fun Club, I elect not to jump over the side of the treehouse in full adherence to the previously-agreed-upon Fire Drill Procedure, which went something like this: make way calmly to trap door in treehouse; climb down ladder; alight on ground; congratulate self for being a member of a not-only-brilliantly-named secret club, but also one that is in strict compliance with fire safety rules as learned that day in fifth grade. I thereby avoid decades of teasing from the nascent Key Girls and grow up to have a happy and fulfilling life.
October 1990 To inaugurate my treacherous ninth-grade year, I reject my own brilliant idea to wander into Snooty Prep School wearing Princess Leia buns for no reason at all and master the arts of bright blue mascara, side ponytails, and the perfectly untucked J. Crew polo shirt, thereby fitting in seamlessly with my classmates. I avoid pointed stares for the duration of that ill-conceived day as well as many comments along the “Hey! YOU LOOK JUST LIKE PRINCESS LEIA!” lines as well as a well meaning question from the stupidest girl in the whole school: “Um, Chiara? I heard that you were in Star Wars? When you were really little? And that that’s why you’re wearing Princess Leia hair today? Is that true?” I stare at this stupid girl for many long minutes and grow up to have a happy and fulfilling life.
March 1997 I throw myself a 22nd birthday party at a beautiful Craftsman-style building on my college campus. There is, at this party, not only cake and Duck Duck Goose and a pi