Fun With Catty Girls
When I was a freshman in college one of my gal-pals was a young woman who shall be called by her nickname, Betty Lou (as in "Betty Lou's Gettin' Out Tonight" by Bob Seger). Betty Lou was a tall, dark Italian woman who had a perverse need to belittle others.
Betty Lou's need to belittle others was most often seen in her petty snipping of females for the fashions they wore and relentless mocking of males for the vehicles they drove. It can best be visualized if you imagine the high school immaturity of putting another down in order to feel above them. It's the same principal done in the context of Betty Lou's fixation on financial success. You had to have the right label on your ass, purse, shoes and car bumper in order to impress her.
Given my complete & utter abandonment of such monetary values and my preference for personal style I displayed not only lack of concern over designer labels but rarely had one on my ass or handbag. For this, I took a lot of crap.
When we were in the dorm getting ready to go out a typical conversation would go like this:
Betty Lou would say something like "I can't believe you're going to wear those cheap jeans out to the club."
I'd ignore her and continue to apply mascara.
"They are so nasty. Don't you own something better?"
I'd continue to work my lashes and casually (if causticly) reply "Hey babe, I know you just want to get me out of my pants ~ what I can't figure out is whether you want to borrow my jeans or just want to see me in my panties."
"Like I'd even wear those pants!" she'd say rolling her eyes. "And I can't wear any of your pants, your ass is too big."
"More like my legs are too short ~ we wear the same jean size," I'd pause then continue, "But not the same dress size because I have breasts."
Betty Lou would scowl and pretend to be re-working strands of her hair in the mirror while she desperately tried to think of a come back. "Bitch", was usually the best she could do. But sometimes she'd get lucky, "Then why are you always borrowing my tops?"
I'd do my final hair fluffs and say, "Because I can fill them out & get them looked at, poor things must feel invisible."
You might wonder why Betty Lou tolerated me let alone called me 'friend' but the answer is simple: she didn't have many choices. Who was going to put up with her bullshit?
I however had the ovaries to do so. Even when she pulled her tricks in public.
I didn't cringe when she called, "Hey bitch!" across the quad, but instead replied, "Yes, whore?"
Once, in the dorm bathrooms she loudly announced she knew I was in that specific stall because of my "Hobbit Feet." (So named because I have a larger space between my big toe and the rest of them.) She thought she would silence me with mortification or at least drown me out with the giggles of the other girls in the bathroom/showers. But that didn't happen.
I flushed, zipped and exited the stall. I walked to the sink to wash my hands and in a voice loud enough to be heard not only by all in the room but to carry across the vent we shared with the men's dorm bath & showers I said, "Well, it's better to have well-balanced feet than hairy toes. I can balance in all sorts of positions with my feet, what do your hairy toes do?" I paused & proceeded to dry my hands. "Come to think of it, what can you do with your hairy nipples?" Then I turned and stood looking at her waiting for an answer.
"Bitch" was all she said as she left the bathroom.
I just shrugged at the other girls (many of whom had their mouths hanging open) and followed Betty Lou out the door. Fifteen minutes later she was at my dorm door confirming what time we were going out that night.
The key to handling Betty Lou was to remain calm. If ignoring her didn't do the trick, a calm but calculated reply would.
At this point, you might be wondering why I tolerated her, let alone called her 'friend'. My answer is equally simple: She was fun.
Even if she didn't always know why. *wink*
To be continued...