The Popular Girls

So, I was cleaning up my blog and found this post that was never published. I don’t even remember writing it… and I didn’t! Big thanks to Amber Page from Amber Page Writes for creating this awesome and inspiring post.

In high school, the popular girls always seemed to be a little…more. More stylish. More beautiful. More in tune with what the world wanted them to be.

They were always ready with a snappy comeback when a cute boy teased them.

They always had their bangs curled just so and their jeans pegged just right (80s fashion was sooo awesome).

They listened to the right bands, belonged to the right clubs, and sat at the right lunch table.

I tried to play along.  I curled my bangs and pegged my jeans, but it never looked right on me. I tried to like the popular bands, but really? I was neither goth nor preppy, and just wanted to bang my head to hard rockers like Bon Jovi and Nelson (well, 15-year-old suburban me thought they rocked hard).

Nothing could propel me even close to their level of fabulousness, and truth be told, I hated them for it. In fact, I spent my entire high school career burning with jealousy barely cloaked as disdain, snarking to my friends about the emptiness of their brains and souls.

I vowed that someday I would have revenge. That someday, I would be just as beautiful, just as charming, just as fabulous.

Then we all went off to college. And you know what?

I forgot all about my plan.

I mean, sure, I tried to step up my game when I first arrived on campus. I got a new haircut and some new clothes. Went to parties and even attempted to mingle. I talked louder, laughed harder and lived larger than I ever had before.

But I couldn’t keep it up. It wasn’t me.

Besides,  no one else cared.

Sure, there were still popular girls around. But they didn’t dominate the landscape the way they did in high school. They were just there—sparkling a little brighter than the rest of us, but not obnoxiously so.

And once I stopped trying to be someone else?

I figured out how absolutely awesome I really was.

Because I? I have a great smile. Gorgeous eyes. Even decent knockers. I have a knack for drawing people out…and a talent for making people laugh. I’ve got my own sense of style and a hair style that works for me.

So while there will always be women who are more glamorous than me, who have more friends, better jobs, more money…

No one is better at being me than me.

And that? Is fabulous indeed.

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