Die, Coffee Bean Girl. Die. Die.

teeth and nails

Okay, so I wrote this entire entry and then the machine crashed, so I’m not so happy right now. I’m writing it again.

I just heard The Corrs for the first time. I remember hating their music when they were called Wilson Phillips. Come on, you know Carnie’s pissed somewhere, with her skin all hanging off her.

That was mean. I’m sorry. I’m angry about re-writing this.

I spent yesterday with Jessica, having a girlie day. These are important. It’s important to go out and buy lots of hair accessories and then put them all in your hair and go to the mall. This store had hair stuff for really cheap, and Jess and I loaded up on glitter clips and ponytail holders. We marveled at the giant flower clips. I put seven in my hair and looked like I was ready for a cruise fashion show. There were these other ponytail holders that were giant pieces of curly fuzzy hair. If you held them the right way, it looked like you had a guinea pig. We also giggled at the giant braids on clips. “It’s like the fifth grade, but without the beads!”

We left with Jessica wearing about twenty glitter barrettes, and me with pink pom-poms in my pigtails behind a pink glitter headband. We were fabulous.

We hit the mall. On the escalator we saw a woman wearing not only the hair ponytail holder on top of her head, but six of the clip braids falling from it. Brilliant!

The Beverly Center. So close to my house, so dangerous. I’d never been in before, which was probably a good idea. This is a mall that could quite possibly break me. Jessica and I were quite rehearsed in the girl rules, however, so we were okay.

  • Stronger Girl must enter the shop with the Weaker Girl.
  • Weaker Girl is allowed to whine and moan as much as she wants at the prices.
  • Stronger Girl doesn’t allow Weaker to buy anything.
  • Weaker Girl can throw a tantrum or dance to the Mandy Moore on the stereo if she wants.
  • Stronger Girl doesn’t say anything when Weaker Girl makes a dumb purchase just to make herself feel better.
  • Stronger Girl wipes Weaker Girl’s tears when they leave the store.

We went into Bath, Bed and Beyond, which is designed to make you buy things you didn’t know you needed. I left with a new floormat for the kitty litter box, new curtains for the bedroom, and a Sonicare toothbrush.

In my defense, I didn’t buy the entire toothbrush. Ray has one, and I was curious. So, I bought myself my own head. I knew I had to have one because it’s loud and moves “at the speed of sound” and I don’t have dental insurance currently. People, this toothbrush could possibly change your life. It’s loud and fast and tickles and makes your mouth feel incredibly clean. Plus, I’m a sucker for anything that has the rule “Clean under the nut weekly.”

My Weaker Girl moment was rather sad. We saw the Betsey Johnson store, and both of us slowed down. The Slow Down means that both girls want to enter, and neither is sure which will be the weaker one. Both girls are scared, knowing that they are too poor for the clothes.

Jessica turned to me. “You know, I’m really mad at Miss Johnson, because she keeps designing all of these clothes just for me, but she keeps charging way too much for them, so I can’t wear them.”

“I know,” I said. “It’s like, I’m the one that’s going to make her clothes look better, making more people buy them, but she just doesn’t care if I ever get to wear them. It’s very frustrating.”

Against our better judgment, and because they were playing Olivia Newton-John on the stereo, we entered the store. Immediately I found the Perfect Dress. It’s red, and pretty, and perfect. “Jessica,” I whined. “I could wear the shit out of this dress.”

“I know, Pama. I know,” Jessica whined.

The dress was $375. I can’t imagine having any sort of evening that requires me to wear a dress that costs $375. If I ever get invited to one, I hope that I’m also important enough at the time that someone else has to buy me that dress. Or Betsey herself walks over to my house and begs me to wear it.

We spent some time pissed off about $175 jeans and finally I left, holding back the tears. The dress. So pretty.

We went next door to the shoe store, where Jessica was instantly Weaker Girl. I don’t know much about shoes, so it was easy for me to be the stronger one. There were a pair of strappy clog things that Jessica immediately loved. Something Martin, the designer. See? I don’t know. But they were over a hundred dollars. Jessica repeated the “I’m poor” mantra and put them back on the shelf.

We decided to pretend we were rich and famous and walked into a gown store, all prepared to try on princess formal wear. I don’t know if it was because the saleslady was holding a baby and talking to a “customer,” or because Jessica and I had half of Claire’s Boutique on our heads, but we weren’t even asked if we needed any help. They wouldn’t unlock the princess wear.

I made myself feel better by going to the one store I can at least pretend I can afford, even though I can’t: Victoria’s Secret.

I brought my purchases to the counter, where my sweet salesboy had tricked me before I knew what was happening.

“I love your Rock Star wallet. That’s the best! Do you want to be a member of the Angels? It’s completely free and we send six gifts to you over the next six months.”

“To my house?”

“Yes! Isn’t that great?”


The next thing I knew, I had a Victoria’s Secret credit card with my new purchases on it. Dammit, I didn’t realize the gift every month was a bill. So not free.

I mumbled as I grabbed my Tiny Bag of Expensive, “I’m in the Victoria’s Secret Angels Network. It’s all over now.”

“All the cool girls are doing it,” the salesgirl next to me whispered.

“Yeah, you’re much cooler now,” said my salesboy.

“With the membership fees I just paid, the only way this card is going to make me any cooler to my friends is if Vicky sends over Tyra Banks in her underwear. Then I’ll be considered cool among my friends.”

This morning I went to get coffee. As I stood in line I looked at the girl in front of me. Peeking out from under her black jacket, I saw she was wearing my Betsey Johnson dress. Right there in front of me, flaunting. She’s got my dress on.

I looked down. She had cocked her heel out of the back of her shoe and I saw the designer. She was wearing Jessica’s shoes.

I was instantly filled with hatred for this blonde. Sure, she’s tall and pretty and looks like Julia Stiles, but unless she IS Julia Stiles, what makes her better than Jessica or me? How come she gets to afford the expensive dress and shoes? Why does she get the stuff that we have to covet?

Then the bitch got the last bagel. Well, not the last bagel, but after she got her stuff, there were only these sad plain bagels left, and everyone around me was grumbling. So, this girl got my dress, Jess’s shoes and the last good bagel. What did she do to get all of the good stuff? Why are we left with cheap knock-off clothes, discount bras and plain bagels? What makes her so special?

And why do I hate her like I do? Why can’t I just be happy for her? Obviously she’s enjoying some level of success. Maybe she worked really hard to get that dress. Maybe she got up two hours earlier than I did to drive into the Coffee Bean and buy the last good bagel. Maybe if I got up earlier or made smarter choices, or didn’t procrastinate on things and saved money better I could have the nice dress, the sweet shoes and an Everything bagel. Maybe she is better than I am.

But can she execute a perfect Rosie Perez impersonation? I don’t think so!


“YM Girlz Rule!”I think I’m done with this section.

Leave a Reply

Comments (