The Popular Post

Sometimes I think my teenage years would've been different had I been popular.

I was confronted by the thought again Sunday after I saw Maya Van Wagenen's Book, "Popular-Vintage Advice for the Modern Geek," and the book that inspired her journey to popularity, "Betty Cornell's Teen-Age Popularity Guide."  I wondered for a moment where these books had been during my dawning into adulthood.  I even picked up Ms. Cornell's classic guide, flipping through the pages until I returned to my senses.  (P.S. Betty, there is no such thing as being either large or, small boned).

When it comes to the timeless struggle of fitting in I will never understand how I haven't managed to cash in on my own experiences.  Middle school was hell, each year bringing a darker and deeper level of falling at the mercy of my peers for being awkward.  I can remember the day I started the sixth grade and hearing my bullies ask why I had returned.  And because I wasn't allowed friends to visit or phone calls, it was difficult to share commonalities with my peers.  And, when there were commonalities, I would press them so hard I'd end up alienated.  One time the queen of the debs and my lukewarm friend, Kayci, returned to school on a Monday after a weekend visiting with her dad.  She was excited because she had just seen Speed, you know the movie with the bus that could fly over gaps in LA highways.  As she spoke about it, my eyes lit up because finally there was something we had in common.  But that didn't last long and by that afternoon, I was back to the Jez thought to be trying too hard.  If Tina Fey had been at school with me that day, I'm sure I'd have been the inspiration for one of the funniest lines in Mean Girls:

Gretchen: That is so fetch!

Regina: Gretchen, stop trying to make fetch happen!  It is not going to happen!

In the seventh grade, I started skipping lunch so that Kayci and her friends could stop calling me their fat friend.  That whole year my weight was a problem for them, funny seeing as not a single one of these girls had a medical degree or intelligent advice to give.  They nicknamed me gorilla.
That same year the sequel to the Ace Ventura pet detective movie was released.  Being an avid movie goer because my dad was an avid movie goer, I got to spend about two hours of its opening weekend laughing until my sides hurt.  That same weekend, Kayci and her friends had gone to see the movie as a part of one of the girls' birthday treats, followed by pizza.  I knew this because they talked about it in front of me, and one of the girls asked the birthday girl to be, Nicole expressly to not invite me.  Nicole saw I saw their exchange to which she swiftly told me a lie, "oh, the only reason I didn't invite you is because we really don't know each other well."  Seriously?
That Monday (I'm seeing a pattern here), the girls decided to use their newly found ammunition to take me down unbeknownst to them that I had seen the very film they did.  Every one of Jim Carrey's jokes fell flat against me with each of them unsatisfied by my reactions.  Even with their shock that anyone would take me to see an Ace Ventura film, I couldn't get happy.  I wanted to, but such a small win in the war of respect seemed worthless.
The eighth grade was welcomed with a hair cut that also decreased my patience.  Of course Kayci and the girls tried, of course the idiot boys in my class tried, but it was tired.  I was tired and ready for the bigger and better things they could never offer, nor deliver.  That year I invited one of Kayci's friends called Cara to kick my ass if she could.  What incurred the invitation was a misunderstanding on her part, but that didn't stop her from opening her mouth to me.  As expected, she had no gall but the tide was surely turning.
By the time we left each other's company in June, I for the first time felt the respect I should've received years before.  High school found me in a safe position, neither geek nor god.  If only I had the pictures to show you all just what I looked like then.

So, what if things had been different?  I'd love to say I would have ruled with a firm and fair hand, but that would take away from my appreciation now as an adult.  Not an appreciation for the shitty kids I had to deal with, but an appreciation for myself and my strength at every turn.  Yeah, not a page turner and, probably not a bookseller, but it is the truth.  I sincerely applaud Maya Van Wagenen's effort to fit in, and I celebrate her handsome reward.

Something else, before I go.  Making the mainstream or, being popular is as much in the eye of the beholder as beauty.  Everything that is popular today dies like a rose bought in its bloom's peak.  As cliche as be yourself reads, it is the best defense against the tortures of pressure.  It's healthy to wonder how different things could be and healthier still just being how you're made.