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May 5, 2012

Mean Girls

You expect mean girls in junior high, high school, and the hallowed halls of freshman rush season. It's like acne or failing driver's ed, a stumbling bump on the road to adulthood. The pleasures of getting up in age are many: you never have to parallel park for a DMV tester again, you don't get prom-night acne, and you outgrow the realm of the mean girl.

So when you meet up with a tiny pack of rabid mean girls in your grown-up life it's a disconcerting shock. People like you and me just assume we misinterpreted the conversation. We make allowances. We give the benefit of the doubt. We don't expect mean girls at our age. We think, "Oh, she must just be going through a situation."

Then one night you bolt awake at 2 a.m. and realize there is no benefit of the doubt. There is no situation warranting this behavior. Those bitches are just mean girls!

You don't intend to get sucked in but you do. They get to you with their gossip and their sneaky little "let's bond over a shared hatred of so-and-so" and the fact that they run in packs. They must run in packs, because they can't take you down on their own. They're like ants that way. One ant is annoying but a pack of ants is jihad situation requiring spray, bait and chalk.

And just like ants, you can get rid of mean girls. It takes patience and the willingness to cover up all your sweet stuff. But you can get rid of them.

I have spent enough time on earth to understand karma and its delicate churn. Recently I made a mistake. I have not been myself these past few weeks, I've been trying my hardest to be nice to a tiny pack of mean girls who I did not want to realize were mean little girls. It does not work. You can't ever befriend a mean girl, they just talk shit about you behind your back and they still hate their lives and complain about every.damn.thing.

I like my life. I don't want to talk about people behind their backs. If I have something mean to say I want it to be pure Southern, "Bless her heart, could you pass the ham?" and be done. I do not care about gossip, unless you are Kanye or a Kardashian. I do not want to trash the boss, bitch about so-and-so's clothes, or ice out the new girl and pretend we're all going home while really we're going for drinks. That is 9th grade behavior. I am grown. I do not want to relive 9th grade.

This is my statement to the universe: I will not mean girl you. I may fail at many things in life, I may mess up, be accidentally rude, get flustered or mistakenly cut you off in traffic especially if you are on the 101 and don't merge in a timely fashion. But I will not be a mean girl. And from now on when the little pack of mean bitches tries to get me to gossip with them I will take an important phone call or have a delicate underwire emergency or hear someone calling my name elsewhere or excuse myself to go cure cancer.

No more meangirling. Bless their hearts.

Posted by laurie at May 5, 2012 9:05 PM