The popular kids at the gym: (2/27/06)
“I need a tan. I have reached my limit of pastiness,” Mara* said, half to her reflection in the mirror and half to her friends bustling around her. She applied her layers of makeup and picked at her curls, still wet from her shower, barely listening to Sarah
“And then I told her that she couldn’t do that anymore and then she slammed the door in my face. So I opened it and told her she had to deal with it and this is just the way it is.”
A voice piped in from inside a locker, “Kids.” It was Shelby, reappearing with her heels in hand. “They just don’t understand that they can’t get along without us.”
They continued on, about seven of them, sharing stories and talking about people in their respective offices. Who’s selling what, moving in from Jersey, the PTA meeting, midtown versus upper east.
Everyone else was quietly changing or showering, going about their business in the locker room at the gym, but these women were the social butterflies. This was it. I had found it – the popular clique. Although no one was younger than 30, they all had families and jobs, but this was a full-blown clique that came complete with glares to the nearby outsiders (me) that tried to get ready around them.
Two choices – get ready near them again and hope that maybe they’ll talk to me this time and I can be a part of the popular morning crowd in the locker room. (Maybe they’d even ask me to ride a bike near them in spin class) Or select a different mirror, where everyone is quietly minding their own business, careful to avoid looking at anyone, as they get ready.
Personally, I’m done with people that feel the need to be popular. I didn’t like them in middle school, high school or college and still had run-ins with them at the office. I think I’ll choose another mirror.
*Names changed, well, basically because I was eavesdropping and don’t know them.
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