Blog 19 - Essay #4

One of the most feared situations for a parent is coming to terms with the fact that the other kids at school do not accept their child. No parent wants to hear that “little Jimmy” was the only kid in Mrs. Wright’s second grade class not to get an invitation to Erin’s birthday party. Nor does a parent want to discover that their child eats his or her lunch in the bathroom everyday because ultimately, it’s better than the embarrassment of sitting at the table with the kids who have their lunch propelled into their face everyday. Additionally, no parent wants to witness his or her child unsociably staying home Friday night after Friday night sitting in front of the television, instead of attending their high school football game or going to see a movie, or even going on a date. After all this time of being labeled as the quintessential popular girl with her clique of friends I find it safe to say that I’d trade all the varsity letters, all the boys, all the parties, and all the homecoming dances and proms to be the mellow, outcast who nobody bothered to acknowledge; but that’s my opinion from the outside looking in.


For the average fifteen year-old the first week of high school often entails a mixture of fear and embarrassment. However, for myself and my group of girlfriends, all of whom already had older sisters who were in the high school, the first week of freshman year was invigorating. Who needed parents when we had upperclassmen to drive us to school? I was the only one out of the clique, however, who participated in extracurricular activities--I was a cheerleader, and it had just so happened that I was only one of three freshmen to make the varsity team. Luckily for me then, eating lunch in the freshman/sophomore cafeteria was never even a consideration as I already had seats saved for me by juniors and seniors in the upperclassmen cafeteria; life was swell.


It was obvious that other people, boys and girls both, did not appreciate my posse. We ran with the fast crowd, and the others couldn’t keep up. The boy who was voted “best-looking” his senior year, yea, we were at his house every weekend, and the other boy, who drove the newest, fastest, hottest car that his parents spoiled him with, we rode home with him; and if there was a party, we were there. All of that never really got to my head, however, until it was me who was on the outs.


My mother always said to me, “Two’s company, and three’s a crowd.” I replied mockingly, “And four’s a party!” Did you ever hear the statement, “Mother knows best”? Well my mom should have added that one into her book of quotations to recite to me, because as I learned the hard way, it was true. My mother was nicely trying to inform me that I was the person in the clique who made things crowded. While the other girls in my little group each had an older sister who were best friends, when it came time to hanging out alone they had each other, and well, as my mother said, “Two’s company…”


I started to experience that everything that everyone envied me for, the attractive looking guys, the constant group of girlfriends, wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. What good were one or two good-looking guys when there were five of us to fight over him? I suddenly found as well that my two so-called best friends didn’t appreciate me hanging out with any of the cheerleaders either. My life became controlled; “No, you can’t like him!” and “Why do you want to hang out with her?” I began questioning if this group was really healthy for me.


After removing myself from my own little clique I began to find that I didn’t need them to make me popular and that the majority of my classmates liked me for who I was. Most of my now friends even said that I was more fun to be around when I didn’t associate with “those girls”. Looking from my standpoint now, the outside in, I feel it’s safe to say that maybe I wouldn’t trade it all to be the person nobody ever recognized because as a dedicated cheerleader, that wasn’t me either. However it is safe to say that you can’t let your friends define you.