the way girls do - revised
before going inside, i checked the ashtray just outside the front doors to see if she had arrived yet. she had - a cigarette butt with a thin ring of plum passion no. 94 lipstick had been stubbed out in the gray sand.
i was with her when she bought that lipstick. she ignored the signs in the drugstore that said "please see an associate for assistance before trying on any cosmetic products" and tore through the plastic wrapping. you know, the way girls do.
"oh, i'm going to buy it, so i don't care," she said when i pointed out the sign. she dabbed the lipstick on the back of her hand.
"it's made of fish scales, you know," i announced.
"like i care." she held her hand up next to her mouth. "well? how's it look?"
"i don't know."
"oh, that's right," she said with mock surprise. she was looking at my sloppy ponytail and baggy clothes with what i could only interpret as pity. "i forgot that you're an all natural type."
i ignored her, knowing what she was going to say next.
"we should give you a makeover." she said it.
"i like me the way i am," i replied, half-believing it.
a woman in a red vest approached us. "is there something i can help you two with?"
"oh, no, i think we've got it." she quickly snapped the lid back on the lipstick and turned away from the woman. "thank you, though."
i was thinking about that lipstick as i entered the meeting room. she was the one who suggested going to a "disaster preparedness" workshop - it was only because her boss was making her, and she asked me to tag along so she wouldn’t be "alone with all those creeps."
"and besides, you can never be too careful," she said matter-of-factly when i tried to protest. "see you at 9 a.m. saturday!" and the bitch hung up before i could say "no, you won’t!" in my most sarcastically cheerful voice. so she got the last word, and i had no choice but to go.
i actually took a little care in selecting my wardrobe for this event. the lipstick incident hadn’t been too long before the workshop, and her constant belligerence concerning my "taste for shit" had worn me down. the day before the workshop, i took the afternoon off and went shopping for the perfect outfit. i ended up going home with a three-pack of men’s white t-shirts and a sweater, full of holes, that i’d saved from a dumpster next to the sub shop.
but there was a silver lining to this cloud. the white t-shirts looked great with a black skirt, tights and sneakers. at least, i thought they did, until i stepped into boardroom A.
"the whole purpose of the workshop is for all of you to acclimate yourselves to - you're late," a woman in last year's blues said as i walked in. everyone turned to look at me.
"it's 9:00?" i asked.
"yes." the woman looked at something above and behind my head - the clock, i learned later. "we started at 8:50. please take a seat, and hurry."
my face reddening, i took the empty seat next to my lipsticked companion. "you told me this thing started at 9," i hissed.
"shh." her breath and black dress reeked of cigarette smoke. she was taking notes on a pink pad in her lap. i peeked over to see what she was writing.
the lady who had made it a point to draw attention to my tardiness (the bitch) was talking again. "my name is susan, for those of you who didn't hear it the first time," she said, looking at me.
well, fuck you, susan, i thought.
"since this workshop will involve a lot of group work, i think everyone should stand up and introduce yourself, and tell us why you're here," susan said. "we'll start with you." she pointed, thankfully, to a guy on the other side of the room.
i sat and listened without really listening. at my elbow, she was furiously scribbling notes about each attendee. you know, the way girls do.
david, mark, curtis, luke. "luke is cute," i saw her write. "single?"
on to the ladies. blanche, sarah, kimberly, paula. "blanche looks like a bitch," she wrote. "and kimberly's pants? give me a break (sooo last year!)"
"that's not very nice," i whispered.
she looked up at me with a start, then quickly pulled the pad up to her chest.
it was my turn to introduce myself. i felt like i was 12 again, and it was the first day of seventh grade. i had been friends with her even then.
except in seventh grade, it was nice mrs. klegg, and not this bitch susan, who asked me to introduce myself. and mrs. klegg complimented the pink bow my mom had made me wear in my hair. susan was just looking at me like i had stumbled off planet homeless, which kind of upset me, because i thought that for once, i was on top of things in the fashion world.
and in seventh grade, we had to tell everyone what our favorite tv show was and our favorite movie and what we did over summer vacation. everyone in my class went to the beach, except me. even she went, and she'd had her hair braided at this wild t-shirt store on the boardwalk by this lady who talked like she was jamaican but her mom said she thought it was a fake accent.
she kept those braids in her hair until christmas, when she starting going out with the boy i'd had a crush on since fourth grade.
"oh, come on!" she'd yelled at me when i locked myself in one of the stalls in the girls' bathroom and started crying. "he never liked you. you know that. so why are you acting like he's yours exclusively or something? i mean, he doesn't even know you exist!"
yeah, i don't know why i'm still friends with her, either.
and at this workshop, i was making up a fake reason for being there - "uh, i’m concerned about my safety after all the terrorist sh- stuff, that’s been happening. i guess." - and nobody cared that i cried when i saw the re-release of pinocchio or that i had a habit of watching reality television shows and eating whole pints of ice cream at a time.
after i sat down, susan didn’t say, "well, it’s good to have you here," like she had to everyone else. she just moved on. apparently, it must not have been good for her to have me there. i wanted to do something brazen, like smash a bottle and stab her with the jagged end, and show her what "disaster preparedness" is all about.
when she got up to introduce herself at the meeting, i saw all their eyes on her - david, mark, curtis, luke. she was giggly and flirtatious and coy. susan probably thought she was a lesbian.
she kept the pink pad out of my line of vision for the rest of the introduction. to even catch a glimpse of it, i had to completely turn my head to the right. i decided not to risk it. no use drawing anymore attention to myself.
susan split us up into two groups to have "peer discussion." i was with blanche the bitch and bad pants kimberly, along with curtis, who smelled like icy hot, and david, who was wearing a frilly purple shirt.
it was very awkward because everyone else there seemed to know each other. or maybe it wasn’t the first time they’d been forced by their lazy, fat-assed bosses to take six hours out of their saturday to discuss bomb shelters and emergency escape plans with susan the mega-bitch.
i saw her take the seat next to luke and flash him that seductive smile she reserved for when she saw a potential one-night stand. that smile had cost me two prom dates. i made a note to tell her boss that she needed to take another kind of "disaster preparedness" class: planned parenthood.
the rest of the day consisted of this stupid shit with "what if" questions proposed by susan, like "what if someone called your office and said there was a bomb in the building? what would be the correct thing to do?" david made me laugh when he examined his fingernails and said under his breath, "probably call you, since you seem to know it all, you uppity bitch."
luke and ms. lipstick were being especially affectionate with each other (i saw him put his hand on her bare knee and run it up her thigh, under her skirt, when he thought no one was looking. i swear to god.) i could tell that sarah and paula thought she was a slut. they were whispering to each other and looking at her with disgust written all over their faces. you know, the way girls do.
in the end, my reject group ended up scoring the most points, mainly because kimberly knew of every fire exit in the 25-story building she worked in. we each got a gift certificate for a dozen free doughnuts at the gas 'n go. it made me feel proud to know that now i could save my own employees at the bookstore in case terrorists ever came in and started making demands. i could flash my "free doughnuts!" card at them (i noticed, upon further inspection, that the fine print said "one doughnut per visit for a total of 12 doughnuts in a 12-month period"), and then we’d all be down at the gas ‘n go, sampling glazed and cream-filleds and laughing over coffee heated to a skin-melting degree.
i snapped out of my fantasy when curtis invited me to go redeem the cards with him. "i'll even pay for coffee," he offered. "you like cappuccino?" the icy hot smell overwhelmed me.
"gee, curtis, i'm so tired after this workshop and all, i think i might just go home," i said apologetically.
his face darkened. "you could have just said 'no,' bitch." he snatched up his jacket and stalked away.
she was having more luck with luke. he held the door open for her as they went outside, where she immediately lit a cigarette. i followed them out, with the rest of the girls not too far behind.
she and luke were laughing about something. he slid his arm around her waist and they walked toward the parking lot.
"who the hell is she, anyway?" i heard blanche, who really wasn't a bitch, ask.
"oh, you know how luke is, though," kimberly said. "he'll fuck anything that walks."
i thought "anything with a hole in it" would be more appropriate, but decided not to say anything.
"victim number 368. or is it 69?" blanche stuffed a piece of gum in her mouth.
"you mean he keeps count?" kimberly exclaimed.
"that's what he told me," blanche replied. the gum made her spit when she talked.
"oh my god, if he's fucked that many girls ... that's just gross."
"and the 'keeping count' thing, that's just pathetic."
"probably has all sorts of std's - hey, susan."
susan was locking the door. "thanks for coming out, guys," she said. she looked out toward the parking lot. "so, our hero luke has claimed another victim, i see."
... wait. how does she know luke so well? i thought. oh, god. don’t imagine them having sex. i glanced over at susan. the slit in the side of her blue skirt revealed a meaty thigh. gross.
"that's what blanche was just saying," kimberly said.
susan looked at me, and i knew she was going to say something bitchy. "going to go cash in on that gift certificate?" she asked in that voice that implied "i think you're a fat, nasty bitch. go engorge yourself with free food so i can feel validated." you know, the way girls do.
"you know what?" i pulled the card from my purse and dropped it on the ground. "you can keep it. i don‘t want that shit anyway." my voice was rising, but i didn’t care. blanche and the others were looking at the ground, the way girls do when someone’s being told off and they want to be close enough to hear it so they can gossip about it later, but still look inconspicuous.
"just so you know, i only came because she asked me to." i pointed out across the parking lot, to luke’s "victim." "yeah, she’s a friend of mine. yeah, she’s a little ... loose. but fuck off. like you aren’t a bigger whore than she is."
i don’t know why i defended her, but i did. i left susan with an open-mouthed, disbelieving expression. blanche and kimberly were looking at each other in bewilderment, like "did i just hear what i thought i heard?" sarah and paula were smirking like "that bitch deserved it." i decided that i liked them more than i liked the other two, even though i hadn’t discussed first aid measures or flood insurance with them.
i turned away and went to my car. i won.
i was with her when she bought that lipstick. she ignored the signs in the drugstore that said "please see an associate for assistance before trying on any cosmetic products" and tore through the plastic wrapping. you know, the way girls do.
"oh, i'm going to buy it, so i don't care," she said when i pointed out the sign. she dabbed the lipstick on the back of her hand.
"it's made of fish scales, you know," i announced.
"like i care." she held her hand up next to her mouth. "well? how's it look?"
"i don't know."
"oh, that's right," she said with mock surprise. she was looking at my sloppy ponytail and baggy clothes with what i could only interpret as pity. "i forgot that you're an all natural type."
i ignored her, knowing what she was going to say next.
"we should give you a makeover." she said it.
"i like me the way i am," i replied, half-believing it.
a woman in a red vest approached us. "is there something i can help you two with?"
"oh, no, i think we've got it." she quickly snapped the lid back on the lipstick and turned away from the woman. "thank you, though."
i was thinking about that lipstick as i entered the meeting room. she was the one who suggested going to a "disaster preparedness" workshop - it was only because her boss was making her, and she asked me to tag along so she wouldn’t be "alone with all those creeps."
"and besides, you can never be too careful," she said matter-of-factly when i tried to protest. "see you at 9 a.m. saturday!" and the bitch hung up before i could say "no, you won’t!" in my most sarcastically cheerful voice. so she got the last word, and i had no choice but to go.
i actually took a little care in selecting my wardrobe for this event. the lipstick incident hadn’t been too long before the workshop, and her constant belligerence concerning my "taste for shit" had worn me down. the day before the workshop, i took the afternoon off and went shopping for the perfect outfit. i ended up going home with a three-pack of men’s white t-shirts and a sweater, full of holes, that i’d saved from a dumpster next to the sub shop.
but there was a silver lining to this cloud. the white t-shirts looked great with a black skirt, tights and sneakers. at least, i thought they did, until i stepped into boardroom A.
"the whole purpose of the workshop is for all of you to acclimate yourselves to - you're late," a woman in last year's blues said as i walked in. everyone turned to look at me.
"it's 9:00?" i asked.
"yes." the woman looked at something above and behind my head - the clock, i learned later. "we started at 8:50. please take a seat, and hurry."
my face reddening, i took the empty seat next to my lipsticked companion. "you told me this thing started at 9," i hissed.
"shh." her breath and black dress reeked of cigarette smoke. she was taking notes on a pink pad in her lap. i peeked over to see what she was writing.
the lady who had made it a point to draw attention to my tardiness (the bitch) was talking again. "my name is susan, for those of you who didn't hear it the first time," she said, looking at me.
well, fuck you, susan, i thought.
"since this workshop will involve a lot of group work, i think everyone should stand up and introduce yourself, and tell us why you're here," susan said. "we'll start with you." she pointed, thankfully, to a guy on the other side of the room.
i sat and listened without really listening. at my elbow, she was furiously scribbling notes about each attendee. you know, the way girls do.
david, mark, curtis, luke. "luke is cute," i saw her write. "single?"
on to the ladies. blanche, sarah, kimberly, paula. "blanche looks like a bitch," she wrote. "and kimberly's pants? give me a break (sooo last year!)"
"that's not very nice," i whispered.
she looked up at me with a start, then quickly pulled the pad up to her chest.
it was my turn to introduce myself. i felt like i was 12 again, and it was the first day of seventh grade. i had been friends with her even then.
except in seventh grade, it was nice mrs. klegg, and not this bitch susan, who asked me to introduce myself. and mrs. klegg complimented the pink bow my mom had made me wear in my hair. susan was just looking at me like i had stumbled off planet homeless, which kind of upset me, because i thought that for once, i was on top of things in the fashion world.
and in seventh grade, we had to tell everyone what our favorite tv show was and our favorite movie and what we did over summer vacation. everyone in my class went to the beach, except me. even she went, and she'd had her hair braided at this wild t-shirt store on the boardwalk by this lady who talked like she was jamaican but her mom said she thought it was a fake accent.
she kept those braids in her hair until christmas, when she starting going out with the boy i'd had a crush on since fourth grade.
"oh, come on!" she'd yelled at me when i locked myself in one of the stalls in the girls' bathroom and started crying. "he never liked you. you know that. so why are you acting like he's yours exclusively or something? i mean, he doesn't even know you exist!"
yeah, i don't know why i'm still friends with her, either.
and at this workshop, i was making up a fake reason for being there - "uh, i’m concerned about my safety after all the terrorist sh- stuff, that’s been happening. i guess." - and nobody cared that i cried when i saw the re-release of pinocchio or that i had a habit of watching reality television shows and eating whole pints of ice cream at a time.
after i sat down, susan didn’t say, "well, it’s good to have you here," like she had to everyone else. she just moved on. apparently, it must not have been good for her to have me there. i wanted to do something brazen, like smash a bottle and stab her with the jagged end, and show her what "disaster preparedness" is all about.
when she got up to introduce herself at the meeting, i saw all their eyes on her - david, mark, curtis, luke. she was giggly and flirtatious and coy. susan probably thought she was a lesbian.
she kept the pink pad out of my line of vision for the rest of the introduction. to even catch a glimpse of it, i had to completely turn my head to the right. i decided not to risk it. no use drawing anymore attention to myself.
susan split us up into two groups to have "peer discussion." i was with blanche the bitch and bad pants kimberly, along with curtis, who smelled like icy hot, and david, who was wearing a frilly purple shirt.
it was very awkward because everyone else there seemed to know each other. or maybe it wasn’t the first time they’d been forced by their lazy, fat-assed bosses to take six hours out of their saturday to discuss bomb shelters and emergency escape plans with susan the mega-bitch.
i saw her take the seat next to luke and flash him that seductive smile she reserved for when she saw a potential one-night stand. that smile had cost me two prom dates. i made a note to tell her boss that she needed to take another kind of "disaster preparedness" class: planned parenthood.
the rest of the day consisted of this stupid shit with "what if" questions proposed by susan, like "what if someone called your office and said there was a bomb in the building? what would be the correct thing to do?" david made me laugh when he examined his fingernails and said under his breath, "probably call you, since you seem to know it all, you uppity bitch."
luke and ms. lipstick were being especially affectionate with each other (i saw him put his hand on her bare knee and run it up her thigh, under her skirt, when he thought no one was looking. i swear to god.) i could tell that sarah and paula thought she was a slut. they were whispering to each other and looking at her with disgust written all over their faces. you know, the way girls do.
in the end, my reject group ended up scoring the most points, mainly because kimberly knew of every fire exit in the 25-story building she worked in. we each got a gift certificate for a dozen free doughnuts at the gas 'n go. it made me feel proud to know that now i could save my own employees at the bookstore in case terrorists ever came in and started making demands. i could flash my "free doughnuts!" card at them (i noticed, upon further inspection, that the fine print said "one doughnut per visit for a total of 12 doughnuts in a 12-month period"), and then we’d all be down at the gas ‘n go, sampling glazed and cream-filleds and laughing over coffee heated to a skin-melting degree.
i snapped out of my fantasy when curtis invited me to go redeem the cards with him. "i'll even pay for coffee," he offered. "you like cappuccino?" the icy hot smell overwhelmed me.
"gee, curtis, i'm so tired after this workshop and all, i think i might just go home," i said apologetically.
his face darkened. "you could have just said 'no,' bitch." he snatched up his jacket and stalked away.
she was having more luck with luke. he held the door open for her as they went outside, where she immediately lit a cigarette. i followed them out, with the rest of the girls not too far behind.
she and luke were laughing about something. he slid his arm around her waist and they walked toward the parking lot.
"who the hell is she, anyway?" i heard blanche, who really wasn't a bitch, ask.
"oh, you know how luke is, though," kimberly said. "he'll fuck anything that walks."
i thought "anything with a hole in it" would be more appropriate, but decided not to say anything.
"victim number 368. or is it 69?" blanche stuffed a piece of gum in her mouth.
"you mean he keeps count?" kimberly exclaimed.
"that's what he told me," blanche replied. the gum made her spit when she talked.
"oh my god, if he's fucked that many girls ... that's just gross."
"and the 'keeping count' thing, that's just pathetic."
"probably has all sorts of std's - hey, susan."
susan was locking the door. "thanks for coming out, guys," she said. she looked out toward the parking lot. "so, our hero luke has claimed another victim, i see."
... wait. how does she know luke so well? i thought. oh, god. don’t imagine them having sex. i glanced over at susan. the slit in the side of her blue skirt revealed a meaty thigh. gross.
"that's what blanche was just saying," kimberly said.
susan looked at me, and i knew she was going to say something bitchy. "going to go cash in on that gift certificate?" she asked in that voice that implied "i think you're a fat, nasty bitch. go engorge yourself with free food so i can feel validated." you know, the way girls do.
"you know what?" i pulled the card from my purse and dropped it on the ground. "you can keep it. i don‘t want that shit anyway." my voice was rising, but i didn’t care. blanche and the others were looking at the ground, the way girls do when someone’s being told off and they want to be close enough to hear it so they can gossip about it later, but still look inconspicuous.
"just so you know, i only came because she asked me to." i pointed out across the parking lot, to luke’s "victim." "yeah, she’s a friend of mine. yeah, she’s a little ... loose. but fuck off. like you aren’t a bigger whore than she is."
i don’t know why i defended her, but i did. i left susan with an open-mouthed, disbelieving expression. blanche and kimberly were looking at each other in bewilderment, like "did i just hear what i thought i heard?" sarah and paula were smirking like "that bitch deserved it." i decided that i liked them more than i liked the other two, even though i hadn’t discussed first aid measures or flood insurance with them.
i turned away and went to my car. i won.