Last summer I spent an awful amount of time at the local country club pool. Not because I enjoy flaunting my bikini-body, but because my youngest still requires quite a bit of supervision. I met a couple of ladies that often appeared poolside around the same hours I was there and eventually I was asked to be a part of their social support group.
I paused and secretly wondered what a social support group was - people who need help being social? I wasn't so sure about the whole venture, but I accepted their invitation to dinner the following weekend.
Have you ever entered a situation and known instantly that you were in the wrong place with the wrong people and wearing the wrong thing? I walked through Wildfire and although it's a nice place, it's not one that I would consider completely upscale. However, you would have thought I was going to the Trump Tower on New Years Eve the way these ladies were dressed. There were nine of them and all their eyes bestowed on me as soon as I walked up to the table. For the most part, they were very welcoming. Although I was a little taken aback when the woman sitting next to me ask who I was wearing? What? I've only heard that question on awards shows. I'm not sure why, but my mind instantly went to Sharon Stone - in 1996, she admitted to wearing a Gap turtleneck to the Oscars and it made big headlines. So I just said, "The Gap." She laughed, but then when I didn't follow it up with anything, she stopped talking to me. (I was really wearing Banana Republic, but I don't think that's the answer she was looking for either)
I could go into great detail regarding the topics they chatted about, but it would make your stomach turn. The pettiness and lack of empathy was awful. They talked a lot about the charity fundraisers they all attended, but most of them didn't even know the causes they were supporting. To sum it up, all I could really think the whole time was: so this is what rich-people problems are...
The evening ended with an "emergency" (silent) phone call -- darn. The kids needed me right away.
When I saw the subset of women the next day at the pool, I smiled, sat by them at our regular seats and although they exchanged small talk, their backs slowly turned away from me and they were excluding me from the regular conversation.
HEY! I didn't like YOUR group. You can't exclude me before I reject you! I'm too cool and too good for you - I'm the REAL one. YOU ARE NOT! You want to be as self assured as I am and not so dependent on things and compliments - uh, HELLOOOOOO.
Nothing. They wanted nothing to do with me. Shoot. Now it looks like I'm the loser.
We never really talked again, but I often fantasized about running into one of them as I was looking super skinny stepping out of a limo with my boy-toy Jaque taking my hand as we walked into the ball...
That never happened.
My life went on as normal. Today is my son's birthday. He's six. We have had a blast celebrating it and flooding him with everything that isn't good for him. On his way to basketball, we stopped to get a crate of Ring Pops so he could hand them out to his friends. I needed to get some work done, so my husband dropped me off at Panera on the way and my son stuffed some of the ring pops into my bag. He's awesome.
I was knee-deep in sorting papers and typing away on the computer when I heard the Ring Pop calling my name. I'm not sure I've ever even had one before and admittedly I was getting pretty tired. I bet a little sugar rush might give me the boost I need.
I ripped open the foil and realized that there really is no easy way to eat the awkward sweet except to suck on it like a pacifier. Hm, not really attractive, but what do I care. My head is down and I am frantically getting work done. No one is looking at me.
A large group came in that was quite loud and of course they had to pick the tables next to mine. I still kept my head down and sucked my pacifier hoping they would decide to move. I was so excited that the beehive started to settle and it was almost quiet.
Could it be true? Did they move? I slowly looked up with the bright red piece of plastic ring hanging out of my mouth and wouldn't you know it, they were still there and just staring at me.
Shit. Dressed in their tennis whites, was the snobby support group that needed help being social. I half smiled, still holding the ridiculously large blue sucker between my teeth with the red ring covering half my face. I muttered hi and quickly turned back to my computer.
A couple of them muttered an uncomfortable hello and abruptly got back to their conversations.
Not exactly the reunion I was hoping for - and did I mention that a little bit of blue drool dripped out onto my t-shirt when I smiled?
I guess I'll never be cool, or in the correct social circles. Unless of course someone knows of one that accepts Ring Pop sucking adults. But listen up bitches, I have one up on you. Even if you offered me your social support, I would have just made sure you knew:
"I wouldn't join any club that would have me as a member anyway" Groucho Marx. Yep, I really am in good company.
Please like Cheaper Than Therapy on Facebook - I'm just hoping somebody likes me...:)