Patinated Ponies

A Moment of Reflection

My stepsister, C*, did yet another stupid thing yesterday.  She had an ear ache the night before, and, logically, took three advil (C* is about 5’7”, no more than 100 lbs), and that still didn’t fix it.  So one of her little friends (she was a freshman in high school last year) decided to bring her something to make her feel better the next morning at summer school.  He gave her a Vicodin.  The teacher thought that C* was high, so she took her to the emergency room to get a quick blood test.  Her mother was called, and that’s really the end of the story.

C*, and that whole half of our pieced-together family, seems to come from a different sub-species of human entirely.  They are tall, thin, relatively attractive,more successful in romantic endeavors, and… well… stupid.  And I’m not trying to be mean here; these kids are dumb.  The older ones, in college, at least try, and thus get by with C’s.  But C* seems to be far more interested in the social aspect of school.

Which got me thinking.  Now that I’ve actually seen what it’s like at home for one, would I really have preferred to be one of the beautiful, yet dumb, girls in high school?  High School Perg would say ‘Hands DOWN.  Those girls have it easy,’ but now, older-and-more-mature Perg would say no.  Because C*’s life seems less than desirable.  Sure the girl’s pretty, and thin, and drinks, smokes pot, and sneaks out all the time, things I could only dream of in high school, but she is no more happy than I was.  The girl is madly self-conscious, has at least a psuedo- (if not full-fledged) eating disorder, and will have to repeat ninth grade if she can’t manage to pass both of the summer school classes she’s taking right now. She’s been caking on make-up since seventh grade, bleaches and straightens her hair, and consumes nothing but energy drinks and microwaveable crap.

I was the opposite of this girl in high school.  I hated, and simultaneously wanted to be, this girl.  I never wore make-up to school because I chose to sleep in the extra twenty minutes.  I wasn’t good at making friends, but at least I was smart, so I focused on that.  And I went to private school, to make matters worse, so basically all of the sixty girls in my grade were drop-dead-gorgeous.  Every day, I felt like I was, to give myself a modicum of credit, the second-ugliest girl in high school.  And that’ll do things to your self-esteem.

And yet, while high school was a complete and utter drag, I think I’ll be far happier in the long run than C*.  Because, unlike C*, I had intelligence to fall back on when popularity wasn’t suiting me.  I had something that I was good at, something I could focus on.  And all that sitting home alone on friday nights gave me time to think, to think about who I was, and to realize that if I had to wear make-up and act like an idiot to get people to like me, than that dishonesty wasn’t worth the popularity.

I may not be Little Miss Self-Confidence, but I’m trying.  And at least I have a secure sense of self that isn’t completely dependent on my appearance.  Any improvement in that area would only help me, but I can get along the shape and size that I am.  And, going to a public university, I’m starting to get over my ugliest-girl-in-the-room complex.  I’ve worried less that guys were only talking to/hooking up with me because I was there, and not because they were attracted to me.  I’ve got a ways to go, but I understand that being liked isn’t the only important thing in life.

I wonder if anyone has told C* that.