It was the early 80's and I thought I was a grown woman. I was on my own and living a life punctuated by drugs, unprotected sex and abuse.
I worked hard during the week - two jobs and college classes - and I partied even harder on the weekends. I was very thin, long legged and as my friend Jacqui once pointed out, bold in my choice of fashion.
On a Saturday night in Connecticut, a friend of a friend of a friend invited me to a party and what I remember about that night is: 1) I wore a very short, black, leather mini-skirt; and 2) when I walked into the crowded room, a brother from across the way yelled over the music, "Look at this girl with those skinny Whitney Houston legs!" Everyone stopped doing what they were doing and turned to look at me. (at least that's how I remember it) and it was the only time in my life I thought I knew what it might be like to be a celebrity. Such scrutiny...
For years, I was reminded of that night whenever I saw Whitney on television or when I read anything about her. And when she began her descent into the world of drugs, I said,"There go I, but by the grace of God."
