There’s No Cure for Bieber Fever.

There’s No Cure for Bieber Fever.

“The Beaver?” 

All girls under 13 sure hope he does.

“No, Mom,” I yelled toward the phone. “Justin ‘BEE-ber.’ You know…he’s today’s Donny Osmond.”  

Justin Bieber. A few years ago at the age of 12, the pop sensation won second place in a local talent show in his native Ontario. Makes you wonder who won first place? His mother posted videos of the performance on YouTube to share with family and friends. Those videos caught the eye of Atlanta music promoter Scooter Braun.  

Now at the ripe old age of 16, Bieber’s most recent CD went platinum in less than two months. A recent concert sold out in 13 seconds. Thirteen seconds? You can’t even sing “Baby, baby, baby, ohhhh” in 13 seconds.  

Our daughter had a copy of People magazine with Justin gracing the cover. The issue fell apart from her loving embrace. If only they gave Accelerated Reader points for People. After finding out it was too late to enter an online contest to win tickets to a concert, she cried in a my-pet-just-died kind of way.  My little girl had Bieber Fever — bad. 

As only a mother and former card-carrying member of The David Cassidy Fan Club could understand, I searched online for tickets. My husband called me crazy. But he never sang “And they called it puppy love” over and over while staring at a life size poster of Donny Osmond on his bathroom door. At least I hope not.  

Turning to another woman for advice, I asked Kathryn Purcell, managing editor of the Citizen, if she would pay four times face value for tickets. She thought it a bit steep but then remembered her mother taking her to her first concert. “If this is Hannah Kate’s first concert,” Kathryn e-mailed, “It will be worth it.” 

So I took out a third mortgage and bought the tickets. There’s a guy online who kindly holds parents trying to finance JB tickets hostage. 

The concert remained a secret. I couldn’t take hearing “What do you think Justin is having for breakfast?” or “What difference does it make that I’m nine and he’s 16?” for the next two months. 

Finally August 9^th arrived. When she got home from school, I handed her an envelope containing two tickets.  

SCREAM. 

I’ve been to the most intense SEC football rivalries but never heard anything like the deafening roar of that sold out crowd. I seriously thought the roof blew off when the big “little” guy appeared in white suit and purple Yankees baseball cap. 

I tell this only if you pinky swear never to repeat it to another living soul over 11 years of age; we got our money’s worth. Even four times face value. The truly scary part is that I sang and danced  (you fellow car-dancers know what I mean) to his CD all the way back to Madison while my daughter in the back seat… slept.  

Bieber Fever had claimed its latest victim. Me. Thankfully, my daughter took her CDs out of my car before the whole thing became terribly uncomfortable. 

I guess there will always be remnants of the girl who poured over Tiger Beat praying to win a dream date with Bobby Sherman. And who knew that Wayne wore orange. Jay wore green. Alan dressed in blue and of course, Donny in purple. Nope. There’s no cure for Bieber Fever. But who cares?  

SCREAM.     

Implosion. I think JB just came out.