I guess everyone comes from something. Maybe you come from a line of doctors or lawyers or astronauts. Well, I come from a line of populars, like cheerleaders, queen bees, homecoming queens, and, the forever coveted title, prom queens. My mother was a cheerleader, my sisters were cheerleaders, and even my aunt was a cheerleader. Plus the homecoming, winter fest, and prom queen and princess crowns are proudly displayed in the big glass case across from the front door, so that when you walk in that's the first thing you see.
Everyone's always saying, "You're so lucky to have such well behaved daughters." And they always add, under their breath, "…and they're so gorgeous, too." Then they would come over to me and say in a baby voice, "Are you gonna follow in your sisters' footsteps." And, as always, I would smile and nod because, at a young age, I was taught that "good little girls" were to be seen and not heard, at least, not until you had a crown to talk about.
The pressure was always on me to hold up the popular appearance. The clothes, jewelry, shoes, interests, friends and even the boys I liked had to be approved. Not being able to choose your own outfits, school friends, and boyfriends makes you feel as if you're in a prison without any bars, just an invisible, barely detectable electric collar ready to shock you whenever you even think about rebelling. And what do you get in return? All you get is a life of popularity, fashionable clothes, and yes, every single guy in school practically bowing and kissing your feet. Even the ones who hate you the most will give you what you most desire that day.
But I've realized just because your popular doesn't mean everyone likes you. It means that you are a prime target to get knocked to the bottom of the food chain. And don't get me started on the lies and backstabbing that comes with the popular title. Your friends are fake and will leave you when your popularity depletes to less than what they have.
Yeah, I know what you thinking, why is this chick complaining about this awesome life she has? Why can't I trade places with her? Trust me this life is not it's cracked up to be. Yes, you get invited to all the parties and you're practically worshiped by the "little people", also known as band geeks, computer nerds, and, the ever known, outcasts. But, my question is, why do we doom the outsiders to at least 4 years of ridicule because of who they are?
While I got everything I ever wanted, I always dreamed of the one thing I desired. I wanted someone to love me for me. Not because I was who I was. I wish my own parents could see me as who I want to be. Not who they assume I'm going to be. I want to see life from the other side.
Even as a little girl, I saw my sister wearing the long elegant dresses, getting the beautiful corsages, and having the very handsome dates, that most of the time were for show. As a little girl, I wanted to be a princess, and my sisters were that equivalent. Sometimes, I would go into one of their rooms and put on a pair of heels and some jewelry, but somehow my sisters always found out. Maybe I should've put the stuff I "borrowed" back. But somehow I never got in trouble; I guess my sisters were to that excited I was following in their footsteps.
Over the next few years, I learned to sing and was briefly a beauty queen, but soon after that I became a bit of a drama queen, said some things I regret, and got myself band from pageants. After that I took up a little reading, but mostly shopping for the newest trends.
Skipping ahead to middle school, as I followed my sisters, I instantly became popular. Almost every day, I went to school in the most exclusive designers' clothes and the most expensive jewelry. My "best friend" Allie was glued to my hip and did anything I asked because I was a "diva" and didn't want to make me angry. My sisters always said, "It's better to be feared than have friends," and even though I disagreed with that statement, I lived by that logic every day of my life.
Middle School was okay. The popularity went to my head sometimes, and I abused my power by getting paper extensions and higher grades on projects I didn't feel like working hard on, but most of the time I worked my hardest on school projects, papers, and tests. Sometimes I felt compassion on the unpopular kids and would just let them out of the cage the popular kids, including me, had built around them. But soon after I would herd them back in and torture them once again. It wasn't until I saw things through their eyes that I realized the pain I put them through.