Growing up I was not popular by any means… I was madly in love with a boy at my church who was way too old for me and way out of my league. Looking back he was surprisingly kind considering I stalked him for most of my childhood. I wore the most ridiculous outfits. Never said the right thing. I was oily and overweight. To top it all off after youth group, when everyone was standing outside waiting for their parents, I would pretend like I was a ballerina and dance like a little fool where everyone could see me. I still cringe. Anyway, there was this girl that was so cool and pretty. She was a year older than me and all the guys liked her, everyone liked her, even the guy I liked. I tried not to be jealous but she had everything, the perfect clothes, the perfect singing voice, she was trying to be an actress. And I was frumpy. My jealousy showed some ugly colors at times. Over the years I just existed trying to fit in where I could but I did not have a lot of friends. Then I finally made a really good friend and we learned how to do our makeup and hair and we morphed out of our awkward stages. Even though outwardly I have changed I still feel cripplingly inferior to people who are cool and beautiful. Especially this girl. It’s like my fat dorky mini-me resurfaces the second someone has nice hair and a glow of perfection.
The other night I saw her for the first time in probably 5 years. I spent a lot of time on my makeup and hair before I went over to her house. When I walked in to the party I felt pretty. She still looks amazing like a classic model, graceful and glamorous. I couldn’t help but notice that she also looked a little sad and empty. She greeted me politely then said that I “beat her to the Altar.” I thought that was a strange comment. She did her best to avoid me but at one point she very briefly brought up her ex-boyfriend then changed the subject. Despite the fact that she is beautiful, she has only had one serious boyfriend that I know of. They looked like the perfect couple, I think he was a model. I think he really broke her heart. Throughout the night she said I beat her to the altar a few more times. She smoked a few cigarettes and I thought I almost saw her cringe when she first grabbed the pack that happened to be in front of me. Almost like saying. “I’m doing this and I don’t care what you think.” This triggered something in me to prove that I was not a prude. So I grabbed a beer and had some sort of mixed drink in my hand for the rest of the night. I looked around at the people at the party, they were all beautiful models, actors and singers. They were honestly very nice as well, but when I saw her interact with them I felt sad for her. She plays the part perfectly. She’s cool and smooth but every reaction was thought out. I got a little tipsy at the end of the night but I kept my composure. We were all hanging out in the garage, a few people were smoking. At one point I asked to smoke a puff of someone’s cigarette. When I replayed last night in my head this morning I was so disgusted with myself. In the past I have smoked when I have had a few drinks… both of which I am quitting. The part that made me so angry with myself is that I didn’t smoke that cigarette because I wanted it… I smoked it because I wanted her to see.
I do not know when or why I gave her that much control. I am not that person. I have no desire to be cool or popular. I am completely content with my life and my friends. My husband is the most unbelievable person I know and when I screw up, he’s the only one who has always been there to pick up the pieces. Last night made me realize how blessed I am to have him in my life. I cringe that I used to dance in the parking lot and kept a picture of my crush above my bed. (I told you I was creepy.) But I never hid myself to impress other people. If people did or didn’t like me, they didn’t like the real awkward klutzy me. And I am ok with that.