First hand account from Lori Arnold about how she started dealing meth. Pretty crazy story. It’s on Playboy.com, so maybe NSFW.
“Drug dealer” isn’t something a 10-year-old girl answers when the teacher asks the class what they want to be when they grow up. It’s not even something a 20-year-old girl admits to herself when that’s what she is. It’s something you become gradually. But I know this: For me, it started because I liked to get high, and I was getting high from the age of 13. My big brother, Tom, a year older than me, used to drink Budweiser and Mad Dog 20/20, but he was a jock and wasn’t into the drugs like I was. This was in Ottumwa, Iowa in the mid-1970s. Everyone was smoking grass and drinking, and kids were even doing it with their parents. Everybody wanted to get loaded. The town seemed to have been in economic decline since before I was born. Ottumwa straddles the Des Moines River, and in good times barges filled with coal had been toted up that river to Des Moines. But by the 1970s the strip mines were stripped. There were a couple of foundries outside town and a meatpacking plant in town. The highest-paying jobs back then were $10 an hour. Nobody was rich. Everybody was white. Our idea of international cuisine was Taco Bell.