Model bethadair.com
Photographer @robertreiff
Producer/Stylist @elisabettarogiani
Makeup & Hair @Kikimakeup
Location @magiclightstudiola
Custom Fitness Apparel by Rogiani.com
Shoes by skechers.com | @skechers
I was born in Charlotte, NC to young parents. My late mother was 23, and my late father was 27 at the time of my birth. I was named after my maternal great grandmother, Georgia Elizabeth. My first name would be Elizabeth, and I’d be called Beth.
My Dad worked in sales and management for Greyhound Bus Lines until his retirement, and my mom was a concert flutist, writer, and substitute teacher. I have little recollection of Charlotte, as just before I turned 2, my brother was born, and we moved to Winston-Salem. We had a blast living in Winston-Salem. We lived in a middle class neighborhood in a split level house. There was a creek in the backyard and a cul-de-sac at the end of the street we lived on. Our family dog, “Scruffy”, a wire-haired terrier, would reside in his doghouse next to the creek. I was always an active kid. I hated to be “couped up” in the house. My brother and I were always begging to go outside, even if it was cold or the weather was bad. Frequently, we’d fish in the creek in the backyard, or play with neighbor hood kids. For Christmas one year, when I was about 5, I got a Big Wheel. It was a low-riding tricycle made of plastic. It had a hand brake on the right. I used to see commercials for it when I watched “Captain Kangaroo” and took a trip to see Santa Claus and asked for it. The commercials were with kids on the tricycle, flying down a hill, and by pulling the hand brake up, they’d spin into a 360. Eventually, my brother and I had both mastered this skill on our own Big Wheels. We learned how to “enhance the spinout” with gravel at the end of the driveway that was at the end of a steep hill. One year it snowed too much to be outside, so we begged my mom to let us bring 1 Big Wheel into the house. Looking back on it, I can’t believe we convinced her this was a good idea. We weren’t allowed to bring it too far in the house. The big wheel just fit inside the set of stairs that led to the basement. The stairs weren’t steep. My brother and I would ride it down the stairs and carry it back up and do that several times until we were too exhausted to continue. Eventually, I’d graduate to a bike, with a banana seat and long handlebars. One afternoon, Andy, a kid who loved daring me to do things, dared me to try and beat him jumping down a hill. I was
