So I work with a girl. Let’s call her Miss K.
Miss K is a beautiful person. And I mean beautiful inside out. She’s smart, pretty, sexy, witty and fun to be with. Her only flaw would be… that ‘look’ she throws occasionally to the people she doesn’t particularly like. I protested a lot about this to her, because I am always afraid that she’d be caught and end up in an impromptu catfight. The last time I protested about this was last week. We were sitting in a cafeteria and a girl walked in. She wore a leopard-printed tank top, a tighter-than-thou skinny jeans with glitters, yes glitters, on the back pockets and a too thick platform shoes. To add the soreness to my (and apparently Miss K’s) eyes, this girl wore a bright red lipstick. She wore her dry and unhealthy hair down, and also has the habit of flipping the hair every now and then as if that day was 1983.
“Right. I wonder where the rest of her dangdut troops are,” those were the exact words that jumped out of my mouth.
Miss K stayed silent and I saw the glimpse of that ‘look’ thrown by her. I nudged her and began giggling like crazy.
“WHAT? I did NOT say anything!” She was all defensive.
“Yeah you didn’t. Your eyes were meaner than my words.”
“THE LOOK! THE LOOK, MISSY!”
“What LOOK? I have eyes, and don’t I get to look at people?”
“Well you can. But not like THAT”
I went back to my chocolate bar and talked to some of the band members who were seated near us. In the middle of my bitching about the incompetent idiots I was forced to work with, Miss K grabbed my shoulder and turned my body in such huge force so I ended up really facing her. She looked at me hard.
“At least I only LOOK. You SAY stuff.”
“Hey come on, your ‘look’ equals me bitching three days straight. It’s rude!”
“No it’s not! I mean… I can’t help it!”
“Well, when nobody else is looking, I guess it’s okay to throw ‘the look’. Because there will never be any impact. But when somebody else is watching you, it’s like… dangerous, no?”
“Well you should’ve watched HER instead of waiting for my reaction!”
“Ah. And why should I watch HER instead of YOU?”
“Go on. Oh please go on…”
“Because you and I shared an unpleasant thing running through our sights!” She exclaimed triumphantly.
“That’s a nice way to put it. But let’s hear it in a more honest manner. Why again?”
“Oh shut the F up. You know what I meant.”
“See? You’re no different to me. In fact, you’re worse.”
“WHAT? No! Maybe we are similar, but I’m never worse than you are.”
“See now you’re making this such a big deal.”
“What? I just closed the discussion. I said ‘Yeah okay’. Weren’t you listening to me?”
“I did. But now I feel very insecure!”
“Because I know you’re right!”
“DON’T CONFIRM IT!”
And we went on and on and on about who’s meaner than whom. End result: both of us are NOT meaner if compared to those who throw ‘the look’ and say the words.
I don’t get girls. Even myself. We were born and raised with delicate care. No matter how much of a tomboy we were once, it’s almost always guaranteed that we would return to wearing a lipstick -even just for once. No matter how boyish our looks are, we are sure to be tired of it sometimes and turn into what we’re supposed to be in the first place. A girl. A woman.
Now, a woman is a delicate creature. A woman nurtures, cares and loves. At least that’s what books tell us.
Why the hell can women be so mean?
I went through many hazing periods starting at junior high. Sometimes it were the ‘legal’ ones (as in the school supported these ‘seniors’ to do so), but most of the time it were not. A senior could just come up to me and say nasty words just because she thinks I wore a skirt too short. Other times they’ll come in a group, making me do all sort of weird and embarrassing stuff just so they can laugh at me. I was told by my parents to never fall for this hazing things by laughing with them and showing them that I have dignity. But they would just be angrier whenever I do that. They told me I had no respect for them and such… and in the end made me do MORE silly and embarrassing things to punish me. True I got my ‘salvation’ when I mercilessly stabbed my Swiss Army Knife into the meanest girl’s wheels (yeah all four of them). And it’s also true that I finally got the last laugh when I saw her crying hysterically because her bright and shiny new Toyota sedan didn’t only get four flat tires but also scratches on all four doors created by an aspiring artist namely moi (and I never got caught). But the question remains:
Why get mad because one wears a skirt too short?
And why were Miss K and I got bothered seeing such a fashion faux-pas that we turned instantly into what you people now recognize as ‘bitches’?
What is wrong with us girls?
We passed high school. We passed college. Heck, we passed mean bosses, rude clients and evil friends. Shouldn’t it be enough? Shouldn’t we be wiser and think longer before we even act?
Apparently we don’t.
I tried blocking my sight and hearing once, ignoring every ‘disturbing’ objects and news. When I came up to my female friends and finally asked them what was going on in the midst of their gossip session, they looked at me weirdly and said:
“Oh God, how can you be so ignorant?”
Trying to be neutral is considered ‘ignorant’? This is kinda new.
Girls are mean. Women are even meaner by the second. That is so illogical to me, because we women are supposed to have higher tolerance to pain compared to men. We give birth. We go to excruciating period pains every single month. We shouldn’t be meaner by the second. We know what real pain really is, and therefore should not spread the horrible pain to other people.
Wait. Now that it’s written down, I got it clearer.
Maybe we survive because we are mean.
I watched E! last night before bed, and they were airing the True Hollywood Story about the movie ‘Mean Girls‘. It was written by my ultimate idol, Tina Fey, the funniest, sharpest and smartest comedy writer according to me. And a strange epiphany dawned upon me:
“Could it be that the funnier the woman, the meaner she could be?”
If it’s true, glad I’m not as funny as she is.