I have a hard time with trusting women.

Which is probably one of the biggest reasons I grew up with few girl friends (there are certainly other factors that played into the why-I-grew-up-with-few-friends hand, but that’s an entirely different story altogether).

You see, during my most formative years – the ones where you learn the fundamentals of friend-making and friend-keeping, I was largely influenced by a queen bee type who was very fickle – one day you were “in” and the next day you were “out” (who woulda thought that one day a television show would be made out of her daily mantra?)

Sure I’m exaggerating, there may’ve been a week (or if you were lucky a month) when you were “in” and now that I think about it, I’m not quite sure how long you may’ve been considered “out” but it certainly felt like a decade.

The being “in” part was nice. The being “out” part, as you can guess, not so much nice. At. All.

When you were out, the girls and boys that you had just (maybe even minutes ago) called friends were now giving you the hairy eyeball and/or completely ignoring you and/or tearing out your seedling plants (something I am guilty of having done in retaliation for having been black-balled). Slam books were the norm.

The worst part was feeling outcast – a pariah.

For me, the experience was exaggerated by the fact that I was considered the queen bee’s “best friend” so when she was mad at me, the ill effects were exponential.

Like the one time she decided I was an enemy during the annual Spring Fling. I arrived at school on the following Monday with the entire 6th grade class wearing anti-Kim buttons. (SO not exaggerating this one)

It’s a hard image to forget at 11 years old, multiplied by something like 120-ish kids in the 6th grade.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m no saint. I too engaged in such behavior. And had queen bee decided to turn against a different girl during that particular Spring Fest, you probably would have found me adorned with a similar button on Monday morning suggesting a protest of the other innocent young girl.

Luckily for me my dad was in the military and I only had to endure 3 years of this fickle one day you’re in, the next day you’re out crap. And when I went off in my separate direction I never looked back. But my life had been utterly changed.

I never had a close girl friend ever again. (And I do mean EVER.)

The sad news is that almost twenty five years later, I am still witness to similar behaviors in women. Why?

WHY?

Perhaps I am overly sensitive due to my past experience, but I don’t think one can chalk it all up to that. When I worked in the fashion world as a stylist of dummies, I witnessed droves of women being mean to other women. Many of them were worried that the other girl would get her position, or out-do her on a project and others were just plain jealous. I never really understood the whole thing, which is why I stuck to my own corner and lived life a loner-type. I was much more happy doing that than having to deal with… drama.

But now that I’m all grown up, I wonder why women still do this to each other. A few years ago, I read an article written by a feminist that said something like the whole idea of women not helping other women just doesn’t exist anymore. And I was all, “Well, OKAY! Maybe I should re-evaluate.”

After having re-evaluated, I want to ask the author of said article,
“What bubble, exactly, do you live in? …because I WANT IN!”

Comments are open. Please feel free to discuss…