Welcome back to Bras Off Confessional — where Molly and Michaela say the things out loud that most people only admit to themselves at 2am.

This week: origin stories. Specifically the deeply, spectacularly stupid things we did when we were young and had no prefrontal cortex to speak of. Science says it doesn't fully develop until 25. We have receipts.

Molly went through a phase in high school. She was resourceful. She was determined. She was failing chemistry. What she built in her closet was technically alive. Whether it was technically drinkable is a longer conversation — one that ends on Cinco de Mayo in the backseat of someone's car.

Michaela was a late bloomer. Two Marine parents, bow in her hair, church groups, straight A's. She moved out at 17, landed in Pacific Beach at 20, got a fake ID, and made some choices. One of those choices involved a tattoo artist whose only red flag at the time was that he needed a ride. It seemed fine. It was not fine. He did eventually do the tattoo though, and only one of them ended up at a laser removal clinic a decade later.

Neither story ends in serious bodily harm. Both end in wisdom.

In this episode:

• Molly's basement distillery and the Cinco de Mayo incident
• Crackhead Joe and why he was actually the safer option all along
• Michaela's tattoo night in Pacific Beach
• Why the prefrontal cortex deserves more respect than we gave it

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