mean girls

i remembered something important this weekend.  something i ought not to have forgotten, but hadn't been faced with in a quite a while:

mean girls are real.

for real.

bitches.

here's how i know.

over the course of the past few weekends i have been working on addressing an issue i now face.  on my face.  it's called raccoon eyes.

i spend one long day in the sun with sunglasses on my face, and i get this crap.  go figure. 

and so, i have been strategizing.  sans-glasses, i have attempted to allow it to naturally even out.  yeah, apparently the tanned area beneath my eyes likes to just get DARKER.  and so i have recently employed the latest tactic: carefully applying 30 spf with a q-tip to the tanned area beneath my eyes without allowing the sunblock to hit the white part.  it's tricky, but i'm hoping that when done appropriately it will yield the desired results.

we'll see. 

this does play a part in my mean girls story, i promise.

so i'm laying poolside with my toes in the water, sunblock strategically q-tipped on my face, when i hear the chatter (my eyes were closed, but my ears weren't...).  four women, bikini-clad with full-make-up and clearly styled hair, sitting to my right:

"oh.my.god.  i totally couldn't handle her anymore, so i didn't even text her.  if she asks, you did NOT see me today."

"i know, right?  so annoying."

"she's probably out running or riding her bike today.  she needs to.  she has no business being in a bikini yet this summer.  i don't know why her boyfriend is still with her."

"why is that guy even with her?"

"why do we even let her hang out with us?"

(snarky cackles)

"so, i think your guy might come back to the pool today.  you should ask him to help you with your sunscreen..."

"you mean the guy with the girl who was his wife?  yeah.  he was cute.  i hope he comes back."

"you are totally cuter than his wife."

"well, yeah."

(they flip through trash mags)

"oh my god.  i don't see any attractive people here at the pool today.  are we the only ones?  i thought you told me that hot guys lived here?  why are we even here?"

"those guys yesterday were hot.  and if we are the only hot girls, then it totally doesn't matter.  we can get anyone we want.  oh my gosh, you need a pedicure."

"i know, i totally do.  and i'm so fat."

"not as fat as those girls yesterday."

"you're right."

(insert amy thought: is it eavesdropping if they're speaking so loudly that it seems they want to be heard?)

and they blather on and on.  about how they recently got fired but are having their uncle lawyer write something up on his letterhead so that they give her good severance.  about how all of the guys in charleston wanted them when they visited there last weekend.  about how some girl's swimsuit was "so last season."  about the jumping ability of the hot (married) guys yesterday.  etc.

it was almost as if i was listening to a SNL skit in which they make fun of air-headed females with valley girl accents.  because that's what they sounded like. 

now, it's one thing if these girls are in their teens.  a natural time when mean-girl attitudes abound as insecure girls fight to find themselves in the social order of high school and early college.

but these girls were definitely in their late twenties.  definitely.  single chicks, on the prowl, full-on mean-girl attitudes.

what the hell is the point?

they seemed fairly well educated.  they were generally attractive (from what i could see through sneaky half-squinted eyes) but by no means knock-outs.  they clearly have girlfriends to spend time with. 

so why the attitude?

after about 30 minutes of listening to their drivel, i gave up on my task and stood to leave. 

girls go silent.

i threw on the exercise shorts i'd come in, put my hair in a wet ponytail, snagged my book and headed home. 

knowing that they had little else of substance to talk about, i can only imagine what they may have said of me.

"oh.my.god.  look at her face."
i'm working on it...
"her swimsuit is so NOT this season."
target 2010, bitches...
"i can't believe she came alone to the pool.  doesn't she have any friends?"
sometimes a girl just needs a little quiet time...
"she has a fat ass."
yes, i do...at least i have one!

...at least, that's what i imagined in my mind. 

i cannot imagine that those "ladies" (can you even call them that?) left the pool, and each other, feeling a glow of positivity and contentment.  i cannot imagine they left their get together feeling as if they had learned something new & valuable, strengthened a long-term relationship, or helped someone they cared about.

in my mind, i imagine that they looked down on me just as they seemed to look down on most of the other ladies they described in their mindless chatter. 

and i look down on them for that.

at the rate they're going, they may never get the real sense of fulfillment that i get from my ladies nights.  they may never know the treasure that is some quiet "me" time.  they may never learn to love others as they seem to love themselves, and laugh at their own flaws rather than pick on the flaws of others.

am i saying that i'm always innocent of bitch-talkin'?  no way. 

guilty party.  right here.

but i do have boundaries.  strangers ought not be victims. 

and i'm a lady...i do my bitch talkin' in private.

thank you to my girlfriends who provide me with conversations of substance.  who laugh with me rather than at me when i have raccoon eyes.  or crash my face into a wall and get a black eye.  or show up looking like a hot mess.

and to you mean girls: please stop fucking up my airspace.