I felt like such a princess last night in my new dress. It’s so funny how a great outfit can change the way you feel about yourself. I swear, everyone at that party was like, “That is such a cute dress, Sasha!” It made me so happy. Ya know, I didn’t have a very good sense of fashion as a kid, and it was always a point of insecurity for me. I never felt like the clothes I wore were as cute as everyone else’s. Fashion is something I have studied and worked really hard to understand. It doesn’t come naturally to me, and I’m always a little bit afraid that what I’m wearing is horrendous. To have picked out a dress like that and have everybody love it makes me feel really relieved and proud of myself. It’s so funny how those long-ago insecurities still linger.
I was thinking about old insecurities just the other day. I still have this irrational fear of being excluded. I was not a very cool kid in elementary school. The popular girls didn’t like me, and when I’d approach a group of them they would all stop talking and stare at me, or just walk away. I had a few close friends, but for the most part I was kind of a social pariah. I was shy; I lived in my own little world, I always had my head stuck in a book, and I didn’t fit in particularly well with others. I didn’t get to sit at the table with the cool kids. I didn’t get invited to their special parties. I didn’t get the cute little presents and drawings they’d always make for each other. They didn’t pass me notes in class. I didn’t get to hear their secrets or go over to their houses or braid their hair. It really hurt me at the time. I tried so hard to be cool, but I wasn’t. I didn’t understand what was so repulsive about me.
So I did the dumbest thing ever: I decided not to be smart. The cool girls didn’t raise their hands in class, they didn’t know the answers, they weren’t in the advanced math classes. I stopped raising my hand. I stopped telling people that I knew the answers. I acted like I was confused by math. It was so painful for me. I love participating in class! I love knowing the answers!
In 7th grade, that all changed. My English teacher, Mrs. Crabtree (that’s her real name, and you can buy the book she wrote about dealing with all of us spoiled, rich little assholes here), asked the class a question. I forget what the question was, but I knew the answer immediately. No one else raised their hands. I knew the answer. It was killing me. Finally I stuck my hand in the air and blurted out the answer. “That’s exactly right, Sasha,” she said. “Very impressive.” It felt sooooo good. So good. I decided I wasn’t going to play stupid anymore. It was too painful.
And that’s when it hit me: These girls had nothing on me. They weren’t smarter, they weren’t funnier, they weren’t prettier, they weren’t more interesting. They didn’t have brighter futures. I was absolutely as good as any of them. Why was I letting them make me feel so small? They were not better than me. After I accepted that, a funny thing happened: They started to include me. Once I believed I was as good as them, and acted like I was as good as them, they started to believe it too. It’s probably the most important lesson I’ve learned in my whole life: If you truly believe you’re as good as anyone else, you are. I’m not intimidated by anyone these days. Whoever it is, they’ve got nothing on me.
Despite all that, when I feel like people might be excluding me, a little voice in my head starts panicking. And it’s almost always just in my head — at this age, most people don’t exclude others to feel better about themselves, and I make a point of not forming relationships with those who do. But there’s still that knee-jerk reaction when I find out about a meeting or a party or an event that I haven’t been invited to. Why are they excluding me? What did I do wrong? There’s always a perfectly good explanation. Today I can recognize it, and know that I’m just being silly, but the initial panic persists. It fascinates me. Emotions cut so deep when you’re young, and those wounds last for ages.
Anyway, I looked darling at the party, and I had so much fun hanging out with my girlfriends. (There were boys there, but my girlfriends are waaaaay cooler than boys!) I’m blown away by the sheer amount of kick-ass women I’ve met in less than a year in Seattle. They’re all so gorgeous and smart and funny and loving. Why are there not a million equivalent boys?
Speaking of which, I left the party a little early to meet up with my “social life.” I adore my social life. It’s not a serious social life right now, but I just love spending time with it, and I’m very happy to have discovered it! I’m fine with taking it slow right now, and I’m delighted any time I get to see my social life. And Leo and the cats like my social life too! Good sign!
