Everything we learned about music, we learned from TLC and the Spice Girls. When deciding on our “band’s” name, my cousin Kate, my sister Lauren, and I chose “The Bomb Girls” because it was close enough to the Spice Girls to get us some recognition, but different enough so that no one could say we had copied them.
Our key instrument was a tiny Casio keyboard with pre-programmed techno music on it, and our voices that could easily rival Chili’s and Scary Spice’s. Every song we wrote had to have a rap in it, and our stage names had to be carefully chosen to go along with our band name.
“You’ll be Baby Bomb,” my cousin told my sister, who is the youngest.
“I want to be Hot Bomb!” I yelled, before Kate could claim the name first.
“That’s fine. I want to be Cool Bomb,” Kate said.
Lauren said, “I don’t want to be Baby Bomb.”
“You’re the youngest,” Kate reasoned. “So you’re Baby Bomb.”
“I want to be Cool Bomb,” my sister said.
I was elated. I got to be Hot Bomb, which would obviously catapult me to the star of the band. I could see it now. The whole family would be blown away by my amazing voice, songwriting skills, and of course, my beauty. Boys from school would fall all over themselves trying to get next to Hot Bomb.
My cousin and sister went back and forth over Lauren’s new stage name, and I managed to back my cousin up a little while daydreaming. After a few minutes, Lauren reluctantly adopted her new name, and we got down to the business of songwriting.
At the time, my cousin lived with our moms’ aunt, our Aunt Karen, and our moms’ sister, our Aunt Rikki. It must have been some kind of holiday because the entire family was gathered downstairs while we put together our new band up in Kate’s room while listening to Crazy Sexy Cool. It seemed that within minutes we had a couple of songs written and were rehearsing them so that we could perform our first concert downstairs.
Now I don’t know what to do
I’ll leave you
I don’t understand
I had this. I was the best Bomb Girl and singer ever, and I couldn’t wait to get this show on the road. I followed Kate down the stairs, with Lauren behind me, and we found Aunt Karen and asked her for her microphones. We gathered the family, set up our keyboard and turned on our music, and got ready to start.
Kate — Cool Bomb — was the group rapper, I was the singer, and Lauren — Baby Bomb — would jump in on the chorus, along with Cool Bomb. We were also supposed to dance.
The music beat in my ears, our family’s eyes were glued on all of us, and suddenly the room was very small and way too hot.
No, no, no, I can’t do this, I thought, looking from our family to Cool Bomb to Baby Bomb and back to the microphone in my hand. Kate looked at me expectantly. It was my turn to sing.
I shook my head and started backing away.
“Come on,” she and our family said. “Come on!”
“I’m not singing by myself,” I told my groupmates. “I just can’t do it!”
“Fine,” Cool Bomb said, and did my part. The three of us did the choruses.
Although the Bomb Girls wrote about a dozen more songs — and I think may have even recorded a couple in my bedroom with a crappy kiddie recorder — I knew then that my career as a diva wasn’t going to happen. It would be a good thirteen years before I could bring myself to sing in front of people again — and that was only under the influence of alcohol. I don’t even need a drop of alcohol to get up in front of people now, but poor little Hot Bomb just couldn’t take the heat.
