1:33 p.m. | 2004-10-06
We Used To Belt Out Mariah Carey At The Tops Of Our Lungs
I almost regret going to the gym today. Even though it's something I'd usually commend myself for...today I wish I hadn't seen what I did.
The way the story goes is...a girl named Kiki (actually, her name was Caroline, but her Mayan nickname was Kiki) and I both moved into houses on our street when I was 6 and she was 7. Primary bonding time. We never went to the same schools, but we were the best of friends. Literally saw each other every night. When her family up and moved to Amarillo (their car broke down on the way to Mexico so they decided to just live where they stopped) I paid to fly down and see her. I cried, and I whimpered, and we enjoyed every second of it. She moved back the year my parents got divorced, to the same house, and I moved with my mother 4 blocks away.
I never saw her. I saw her once after they moved back from Texas. Once. And it was happenstance at the grocery store, like she didn't care. Still I thought this girl was the same amazing person I used to know. So strong willed, so intelligent, so much.
I had heard she was married, and today that was confirmed. I saw her at the gym. I recognized her immediately. She had not matured in height, face, hair, anything. She looked like she did in high school. I, on the other hand, have dark brown hair (when she last saw me is was not only blonde, it was very light blonde), have grown a good 4 inches, and in general my face has just aged. It wasn't until we were on a mat next to each other that she recognized me. I was hurt she hadn't noticed earlier.
I moved past that as we began to talk. She introduced me to her friend (wearing Juicy pants, gag), as I noticed she had a Coach tag on her key ring. I didn't respond. We just talked. As I asked her if she really was married she says, "oh yeah! And you gotta check out the size of this rock!" So I looked at it, forced myself to ooh and ahh and we continued talking. I was covered in talks about how she was moving to a new neighborhood where even though the house she bought only cost $400,000 they figured they could "live small for a few years."
Then came the Lexus. That's right the Lexus. She's afraid to park downtown (I swear my town has a .0001% crime rate, we're so white and upper class) because of her Lexus. And each time she'd say that word, Lexus, she'd slow down and say it with emphasis. Yes you're 20 and you own a Lexus. Who cares.
All I heard for the next twenty minutes was how well off she was, and how she could buy just anything, and how that was her dream. And how she's planning on buying her mother a house, and she's doing "tons of charity work!" And she "went on so many missions!" And here's where it hit me. Where's Kiki? Where's that distinctive voice she used to talk in. It had a hint of spanish it had a hint of nerd and it was just so her. Now she speaks with her mouth wider and this big fake grin. And she says words like "Chanelle" and "Gucci" and things I don't even recognize. And her accent is gone. She might as well be white.
And I was disgusted. She used to be poor. She used to be humble. She used to be such a wonderful girl. And the only reason I feel for her is that when she turns 43 and realizes what she's done with her life and where she's gone she'll be utterly destroyed.
She's living a lie. And I hate that. Because anyone else can live a lie besides me and the people I love. This is not Kiki. I refuse to believe it. And if in twenty years she comes back to see me and she's sorry for what she did with him...I won't be surprised.
And I feel sick and disgusted that I feel better about myself because of this. Because I know who I am right now. I don't know where I'm going, or what I'll end up doing, but I know one thing always. I am me. I don't lie to myself about those sorts of things. And I'm not comprimising my beliefs to marry some guy with a six figure salary.
I think I'm gonna be sick.
