What I sound like on the radio:
Interviewer, in somber tone – So Bee, you suffered domestic violence?
Me, laughing – No, I practiced it!
Interviewer, shocked – What, you mean you dished it out??
Me, still laughing – No, I defended myself. I’ve never been a victim of anything!
That is just the bit that I can remember. Of course there was a whole lot of terribly inappropriate disease chit-chat, I was asked to describe the accident (something I can’t even talk to my closest friends about), and I had to suffer through countless compliments. Oh no!
Luckily my brain deletes all that stuff immediately.
I expounded on the link between poverty and violence at great length, but at least she didn’t ask why I am opposed to therapy. The Australians of my acquaintance are good like that.
One hour later, I still feel mildly queasy. I don’t even listen to the radio!
Ten years and three books into this whole thing, it is obvious that regardless of the topic – parenting, activism, reminiscing about having portions of my body hacked off – I just say whatever crazy thing crosses my mind. This may in fact be why I’m asked to appear on the airwaves so often, but still, not my favorite part of the job!