It's come up now and again, throughout my short, but bizarre life. I think grade 5 is my earliest memory of being knowledgeable of it's existence. If I were to place it in the little status box on Facebook, it would read like this:
Becky is the third coolest girl.
Yep, third. Bronze. If second place was the first loser...I was the second loser. The white ribbon at the track & field event.
You see, there was always the Gold...the Alpha Girl of sorts, who had the best backcombed bangs and the name brand acid washed overalls...you know, the style with brown crushed leather strips down the sides. Kyla. That was her, in grade 5. She walked with her nose, and full grown chest pointed to the sky, and all the boys, especially Dwayne Nelson, noticed.
The Silver was Tanya. She was my best friend. She was also Kyla's best friend. If forced to choose between us, I had no doubts I'd be sitting at Corrina Andersayks lunch table, the Principal's daughter, who loved her trombone more than life itself. Back to the silver...she was Batman's Robin, Bert's Ernie, Archie's Jughead. The dictionary definition of sidekick is, "a close friend who accompanies his buddies in their activities".
Their activities. That's a sidekick's downfall; she has no life of her own. But I suppose it's a small price to pay to be involved in the Great Double Slouch Sock Slumber Party of '89, or the Giant Saved by the Bell Room Deco Makeover of '91...sigh, Zack Morris...
This brings us to the third coolest girl. Being the bronze is like being the crippled little shelter puppy. She is honestly great friends with Silver, and Silver invites her to the many happenings of Gold, but tell me this...have you ever seen Robin's sidekick? Case in point. Robin probably brought his bronze...Fly-fishing-girl...to the Batcave
once. Batman looked down his perfectly pointed masked nose, and inquired, "What is SHE doing here? Don't you know our Batalicious secrets may have all been compromised now?" (Meanwhile, in the background, Bronze, fully aware that her batcave experience would be short lived, is frantically scribbling down the 7 digits of the red batphone listed on the emergency contact sheet magneted to the...uh...batfridge...for future blackmailing purposes.)
It's true. I really thought there was a proverbial podium which held on it the essence of coolness, and somehow I had enough humility to believe I was the least of the top 3, yet enough pride to think I was actually ON the pedestal in the first place!
Fast forward 20 years. It's Christmas. I return to the town of my youth. What oh what shall the third coolest girl do while on vacay in a land drenched in memoirs? Go out on the town with old friends reminiscing of ripped shower curtains, and poo in Mr.Gunn's top drawer? Dress up and dance the night away at every and all seasonal bash's within city limits? Walk down main streets in heels much too high for the winter conditions, laughing too loud, to attract attention from all passerbyers?
No.
That's not for me. That's never been for me. In fact, only now am I realizing, if that's what the third coolest girl does, well, then I am not her, nor was I ever her. I am realizing it's all in your perceptions. I should say
peer-ceptions. It's how you see your friends, it's how you see yourself. You ARE the coolest one, you ARE the gold...if YOU believe you are. Huh. And you know what? I AM Gold! You know why? Cause Gold, in my world, likes to stay
in on Friday nights and play card games. Gold likes to watch the bowling channel with her brother and make fake commentaries on all the "action", laughing so hard we nearly pee our flannel p.j pants. Gold is proud of the fact that her best friend in the world...is her mom. Gold knows that stilettos look more fashionable with these new jeans, but opts for the white "mom" runners, cause they are SO much more comfy. Gold is real. And that...is why I am GOLD.
