Power shift
I went to dinner with one of my oldest friends last night. Seriously, she's my BFF, and has been since we were kids. Love her to death. In our relationship, though, she was always the pretty, skinny one. I was the slightly doughy one with the "good personality," which is the kiss of death when you're trying to get Mike Donaldson to go with you in the boy/girl skate at the 10th grade roller skating field trip, and he only has eyes for my friend. Fuck him. This really didn't change over the years; you just learn to deal with it, although I'm no longer doughy. I hope to Jesus no one considers me doughy. I hope to Jesus, Mary, AND Joseph.
Anyway, the weird part came after a delicious meal and a mojito. We're the same age (late 30's), but in the lighting of the restaurant, I noticed something bizarre: she didn't look all that great. Not in a sickly way, but she looked older than she is. Initially I thought that if she looked that much older in that light, I must resemble the Cryptkeeper, since she's the pretty one. However, when we hit the ladies room, there it was again; the older thing. In comparison, though, I looked good. If you were to ask someone who the older of the two of us, they'd have to pick her. She has a ton more wrinkles than I do (girls, if there's a warning against sunbathing, my friend is IT), and grooves around her mouth. I don't have those yet -- and I emphasize yet, since it's inevitable. She does, however, dress in a really cool, funky way that I couldn't emulate, as I don't have the best sense of style (or her enviable credit limit).
In a weird way, I almost felt bad for her. Then I said to myself "Meh."
Ironically enough, after we left the restaurant and walked back to the car, I was flirted with by a cute passerby, and she was ignored. That never happens. When he continued on and I looked at her to roll my eyes, she had a sad expression.
I didn't feel triumphant or anything, but I could tell that now I'm not the doughy one, and we both knew it. Okay, maybe a little doughy, but don't tell anyone.
Anyway, the weird part came after a delicious meal and a mojito. We're the same age (late 30's), but in the lighting of the restaurant, I noticed something bizarre: she didn't look all that great. Not in a sickly way, but she looked older than she is. Initially I thought that if she looked that much older in that light, I must resemble the Cryptkeeper, since she's the pretty one. However, when we hit the ladies room, there it was again; the older thing. In comparison, though, I looked good. If you were to ask someone who the older of the two of us, they'd have to pick her. She has a ton more wrinkles than I do (girls, if there's a warning against sunbathing, my friend is IT), and grooves around her mouth. I don't have those yet -- and I emphasize yet, since it's inevitable. She does, however, dress in a really cool, funky way that I couldn't emulate, as I don't have the best sense of style (or her enviable credit limit).
In a weird way, I almost felt bad for her. Then I said to myself "Meh."
Ironically enough, after we left the restaurant and walked back to the car, I was flirted with by a cute passerby, and she was ignored. That never happens. When he continued on and I looked at her to roll my eyes, she had a sad expression.
I didn't feel triumphant or anything, but I could tell that now I'm not the doughy one, and we both knew it. Okay, maybe a little doughy, but don't tell anyone.
posted by Betsy at
12:29 PM
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