There's a question I keep seeing and I don't know where, but it's probably in one of those stunningly inane chick-mag life quizzes (don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about, you who probably agonized over the How Adventurous Are You In Bed? quiz). It usually pops up in those questionnaires that attempt to discern through a series of over-simplified hypothetical questions how good a friend you are. As if the complex roux of my generosity with my wardrobe, font of ready dating advice and occasional pissiness could be reduced to a mere 25-question psych test, but whatever.
I don't even know why I look at the stupid things, because they always work completely backwards with me. I can't answer half the questions (which makes me happier? A) Expensive furniture in my apartment, or B) Quality time with a friend? Nowhere to be seen is "C) Spending quality time with a friend buying expensive furniture for my apartment", which would be a lot closer to the truth), but if I flip to the scientifically calculated psychological analysis in the back, BAM! There I am, all laid bare for the world to see in the '37-85 points' paragraph. Mostly B's? Oh, yeah -- reads like my horoscope. Average Jane? Totally pegged me. It's uncanny. Whoever writes those quizzes totally gets me. (It's probably a mustachioed Women's Studies major with a minor in Statistical Analysis, but I can still cherish the fantasy of a match that will one day translate seamlessly to a big-screen "Tom Hanks/It Girl of the Hour" dramedy.)
ANYWAY, back to my original point. There's this one question that pops up in every quiz and questionnaire and sometimes even in the Dear Guru letters. It always gets me thinking, and then brooding, and then eventually shoves me over the edge into full-on seething. It poses the query, "How would you react if your friend lost 20 pounds and got promoted in the same month?"
The truth? I get a cranky just thinking about having a friend like that. If I had a friend like that, I'm reasonably certain I'd be jealous and petty inside and die a little bit every time she touched a potato chip to her size-6 lips or swiped her hefty check card through the Target scanner. Which makes me a little miffed at myself. Am I really so small-minded that I get bitter because I'm fatter and poorer than the chick-like-a-sister I depend on for post-date dishing and critical wardrobe input?
Then the most unprecedented thing happened. Yesterday I weighed in at 20 pounds lighter than two months ago, and was told I'm being promoted, despite my dire pessimism on both counts. My week was made and I was walking on air. For a few minutes, I got to be That Girl in That Question. And I never get to be That Girl.
Which made me happy I'm not friends with me, because I probably wouldn't be speaking to myself.
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1 comment:
i think Life needs to provide us all with more opportunities to choose an Option C.
congratulations on being That Girl.
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