I know it may look like I was being, like, a bitch, but that’s only because I was acting like a bitch – Mean Girls
A week or so ago I made some changes on our website. For some reason that I’ve yet to understand, folks freaked out – guess it’s that whole fear of change thing. But more interestingly, it gave the Mean Girls of our community just the sort of space they needed to stir up some trouble and look down on others. It’s recently come to my attention that these Mean Girls (no really, that’s how they refer to themselves!) needed to create their own space where they can privately laugh about others and well, just be mean.
Yesterday, I finished reading a book appropriately called Frenemies by Megan Crane. And of course, this book was about adult women and how there will always be That Girl – you know, the bitchy, perfectly coiffed, perfect boyfriend, perfect job, kind of gal that always feels she’s better than everyone else. Between the book and the recent activities on my site, I have to say that I just don’t get it.
I mean, can any happy, well-adjusted adult really be all that happy or well-adjusted if they can only find joy in being mean and looking down on others? Can acting like a middle schooler in their day to day interactions really help them find happiness and feel better about themselves? How can they not see that the way they treat others makes them look like horrible people? How can their husbands, friends, family and co-workers enjoy spending time with them? Does it really help them to feel better about themselves?
I’d think this is really just a small portion of the world, you know, an isolated incident. But really, many books have been written on the subject. There are books on how mean young girls are being towards each other and even books on how women sabotage other women in their lives. When does it stop? Is it really just about being the Queen Bee?
As cliche as it sounds, why can’t we all just get along? Why can’t we celebrate the successes of our fellow women? Why can’t we be happy with what we have and not define ourselves through the pain of others. Forget about that glass ceiling, we’re our own worst enemies (or so it would seem).
Me, I say the more the merrier and to each their own. ‘Cause baby, I’ve just got to be me!