the cool girls

I wish I was one of the cool girls.  I have always been about 3 degrees of separation away from them, I know them.  They smile when they see me, if I can catch their eye.  They may say hi, if its unavoidable, in a store or at a restaurant.  But they never call me.  They don’t invite me to the luncheons, or the weddings, or, way back in 6th. grade, Vee Jame’s birthday party — to be held at the pavilion.  (“Sorry Cindy, I have a limit of people I can invite.  You just didn’t make the cut”). 

I see their children’s cookie cutter  weddings on facebook.  Why do I even look?  These drippy, saggy armed women in their polyester dresses — women whose kids went to school with my kids.  Women who have been friends for God only knows how long, who drink cocktails and embrace each other.  I resent them, their comraderie, but I wish I was one of, that’s not true.  I wish they wanted to be like me…

My daughters had wonderful weddings.  My three best friends and their husbands were at both of them.  I have friends.  I have a good life.  But, man, just once, I’d like to be one of the cool girls…


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