So, I wasn't one of the 'populars' at High School. But neither was I shunned like a leper. I stuck around with a select group of friend who I actually liked, mostly consisting of the kids who enjoy arts, the ones who believed that no one understood them. I even went though a token 'emo' phase, but, don't we all? All was well, we had lunch passes (for our varying clubs) that allowed us to have the fist pick of the sandwiches, and the softest paninis. I remember this, why did we love the soft ones so much, surely this defeated the point of toasting them? And we always got the best seats and never had to sit on other peoples left over chips. However, at one life changing sleepover, everything changed. Daphne and I had been best friends for a considerable amount of time, but on that fateful night, high on blue smarties (pre-EU regualtions, so basically a class A drug), that we were sick of being anonymous choir-goers, we made an agreement that we would climb the social ladder and become one of the mysterious popular elite.
Unfortunately, in my case, it was not meant to be. Partly because I didn't really want to leave my established, safe groups. But Daphne was more successful. She cemented herself into 'the group' (every school has one), and regaled me with exciting sleepover stories during form time, I saw less of her as she became immersed in the glossy lives of the goddesses, and the only time that we met was a weekends, we secretly met, under the cover of darkness (at my house) and did cool thing like use the binoculars that my mum bought for bird watching to spy on the youths of the neighbourhood setting fire to trees. Still to this day one of the most hilarious memories of my life, we thought we had witnessed such a crime and then the fire just died down. We wished something more dramatic had occurred.
So I plodded along happily, although secretly jealous in a secretive friendship. But also they were an exclusive gang that kept firmly to themselves. At the same time Daphnes' new found playground fame was starting to seem less attractive. Basically, I didn't just cold hearted and calculatingly ditch my warm safe friendlings and run into the cold plastic arms of the high school Barbies. Coincidentally after the making of said 'pact' I was sat next to one of the 'elite' in Science, I fell out with my friend (not Dorothy) needed someone to hang out with at lunch and the rest is history. They were pretty, far more advanced in terms of clothes, make-up and boys and I got rather comfortable in my new group. My friend love for Dorothy never changed and she was still my best friend (despite the relatively awful human I was becoming) but I was drawn to the generally glossy nature of their lives. Boys fancied us, girls envied us and well we hated lots of little things about each other. That is when it all started to fall apart. Yes, at home they were normal, friendly and hilarious humans it was only when it came to being thinner or prettier or more popular that they would tear your eyes out and sell them back to you at an extortionate price. I was never going to completely fit in with them because A. one of the girls (the leader some would say) was incredibly possessive over another friend and B. I was far more interested in doing something beyond being thin, pretty and fanciable. I wanted to write, or travel or something a tiny bit more rewarding. This means that when I inevitably began being bitched about, as the weak link of the group, it seemed more logical to just switch groups, rather than battle on to be friends with some frankly superficial and quite dull girls. They weren't evil but they weren't exactly lovely people, but now I just feel a little bit sorry for them because their lives seem quite empty in retrospect.
Now I'm (a little) older however I've realized that it was a complete waste of life and focus. For me it was a massive waste of tears and relatively detrimental to my self worth, I could have just eaten ice cream and carried on going to choir (and been around seventeen times happier). Mainly because now I'm not scared of speaking to them any more and I have realized that none of them are particularly funny, or nice, original, or even pretty. This is true, you start to wonder why we idolised them so much. The friends that I've chosen are much more worth worrying over whether they still like me. Plus, I'm pretty sure I'm better dressed. You really are, you don't dress 'individual' which is actually code for the same as everyone who can afford to buy expensive clothes that are made to look badly made. Your dress sense is genuinely unique and a reflection of your personality, which is probably why they all dress the same. What I found most surprising about these seemingly strong, confident, young women is that they are the exact opposite, they were terrified of doing anything embarrassing or different and wouldn't use a certain brand of make-up or wear certain clothes and really just lived in fear of not conforming. It was pretty sad to be honest.
But there will always be a hierarchy whether I choose to acknowledge it or not. In the work place you may have to play office politics. Which I may well do, but it will be from a distance. And I won't let my self get hurt over how 'popular' I am. All I want is for the people I like to like me. Speaking from having been on both sides of the metaphorical river I can tell you that the grass is most certainly not greener and if you want to live a life where you actually enjoy yourself and feel comfortable then the phrase social hierarchy should be put in a little box in the corner of your mind labelled 'I COULD NOT GIVE LESS OF A SHIT'.
I also realize that the only real reason that I can see for these girls popularity is that they were the focus of many horny teenage boys affections, essentially a people where popular if the boys wanted to shag you. Pretty depressing now that I think about it.
Though I do harbour a longing to have a MASSIVE twitter following, I would but I think I am actually too lazy, I just want a stalker at some point in my life, I feel like every successful human deserves a stalker.
Dorothy and Daphne
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