Tuesday, April 28, 2009

I enjoy being a girl...?

I was talking to one of my closest friends before...a smart, funny, beautiful person...and she told me about something that happened to her recently. She left a bar (neither of us are bar fans) and got into a cab...partially to avoid dealing with drunk obnoxious people.

There were two guys in a cab next to her that rolled down the window and said very hurtful things about her...amongst themselves, but knowing full-well she was a couple of feet away and could hear everything they said. They clearly thought they were extremely funny.

She went home extremely upset, and she took these guys' comments to heart...who were these guys to her, anyway? They were strangers. They were drunk strangers. They were drunk idiotic strangers.

However, I didn't think she was silly for letting it get to her...because I know that I would have reacted the same exact way.

Which leads me to ask...WHY DO WE DO THIS TO OURSELVES? (And why do boys seem perfectly capable of not letting things upset them?)

How come rude words from a couple of drunken morons have the power to wipe away every other nice thing anybody has ever said to you? Our friends tell us they love us...that we're wonderful just the way we are...and yet something like that makes us cry.

Last week, I saw a girl I went to high school with in the grocery store.

I haven't seen her since we graduated, and I haven't thought about her in years. We weren't friends. We did, however, sit at the same lunch table in the 9th grade. One day, a note she had written was "leaked". (Another girl in my math class found it and handed it to me. She HIGHLIGHTED THE PARTS THAT WERE ABOUT ME before she handed it to me...looking back, I think her actions were equally screwy as the following...)

This girl had written a two-page note to her "BFF" trashing every girl at our lunch table.

(I wonder WHY she was sitting with a bunch of trolls that she felt so superior to?)

She didn't say anything bad about my personality or my brains...she couldn't, since she barely knew me. We had never even really had a conversation...but she DID attack my appearance. She said very nasty stuff about my body, my hair, my clothes.

I cried all day after I read that note.

The second I saw that girl in the grocery store, that all came flooding back. I remembered that insanely insecure fourteen-year-old girl who had to read about how fat she was, how frizzy and disgusting her hair was, how she shopped at Motherhood Maternity. (Yup. She said that.)

Honestly, I really don’t believe that people change that much from when they are teenagers to adults. I think we’re basically the same as we were. I think my worst and best qualities are the same exact ones I had fifteen years ago. I think this girl, being so nasty and hurtful and thinking she was being clever, grew-up into somebody who would insult somebody sitting in a cab and laugh at her own jokes. I’m sure she doesn’t remember that day in the 9th grade…but I do. I always will.

I don’t get it.

Maybe I should be grateful to experiences like that. They made me very sensitive to cruelty. As much as others’ words can upset me, I also know that I would never say or do anything to intentionally hurt somebody else.

I think that counts for something.

I hate that we live in such a shallow world. I hate that all it takes is a few words from an idiot on the street to ruin our day.

And I, most of all, hate that I don’t know how to let it not bother me, especially so I could teach the fantastic friends I have in my life not to let it bother them either.

Diana Rissetto

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