If this were a movie, you’d be hearing an Elvis tune right now, the soundtrack to my life. Mom says she gave birth to me serenaded by his love song, “The Twelfth of Never,” and when I entered the world crying in perfect harmony she named me Presley.
I try to enjoy The King’s music as any self-respecting eighth-grade girl would -- secretly -- but Mom is Elvis crazy, as in she bought a potato chip on eBay for its likeness to his facial profile. If you squint, one burnt edge resembles his hair and those thick sideburns from the 1970s, when he was heavy and wore the sparkly one-piece outfits.
She had the potato chip shellacked, and she keeps it on a tiny foam pad in a clear plastic display box on her desk at work -- which also happens to be at my school.