P.Y.T. (Pretty Young Thing)

When I first heard that Michael Jackson had died suddenly, I was shocked like everyone else. He was so young. I remembered one of my favorite pictures of me when I was young & so I wanted to post a blog about how much I loved him when I was 10 and share the picture with you.

I had begged my cousin to let me take a picture with her album cover photo. I only had the cassette, and the album had such a huge, beautiful picture of him that I just HAD to be in a photo with him.

(Note the Cabbage Patch Doll behind me? Beggars couldn't be choosers back in the 80's Cabbage Patch craze so the only place I could get one was through a mail-order catalog that sent you whatever the packing clerk picked off the shelf. I prayed every night for a girl with brown hair. Sadly, my brown-haired girl did not come to me in the way that I imagined. I was sent a boy named "Brian Ross" with a small tuft of poo-colored hair. So, I did what anyone else would do in that situation, right? I made a wig for him with my grandma's brown yarn (I braided it) & sent away for a new adoption certificate in the name of "Katie Ross" (I thought Ross was his last name). This picture is pre-yarn wig...but I digress...).

I mean, Michael Jackson was to me then what the Jonas Brothers are to young girls today. Seriously. I had posters of him all over my room & I even did my 5th grade report on him and his family. I was a serious fan.

But the media has just been inundating us with images of him, history of him & to be honest, the images of him post-Thriller just scare me. The more plastic surgery he had, the less of a fan I became. For pre-teen girls, it's not about the music, it's about the look. (No offense, Jonas Brothers...).

So I decided not to blog about my adoration of Michael 25 (!) years ago.

But then, fate stepped in (as it always does).

The girls chose an old book of mine from the attic to read for bedtime tonight . . . And this is what I found inside the front cover:

Holy crap. I was not just a fan. I think I was out of my ever-loving mind.

So of course, I had to humiliate myself and share this with everyone.

Is this what my girls are going to do in 4 years?! Who will they love in that pre-teen girl way? I hope they don't embarrass themselves the way I did!

Rest in peace, Michael Jackson.