Shoe Envy

Ugh. Sasha. Of all my boyfriend’s exes, I really couldn’t stand that girl. Sometimes she came off as a bitch, but most of the time she seemed to be trying really hard to be nice. A small part of me reveled in the fact she would make a point to talk to me. Like maybe she was jealous of our relationship or something. Anywhere I can score a point on her, I’ll take it. Even if I have to stretch the imagination a little. Then again, it would be a lot easier to hate her if she wasn’t so damn nice.

She always looks so put together and stylish. I sometimes wonder if she magically woke up in Dior and Fendi without a single streak in her make-up. It made me a little nervous knowing my boyfriend used to love this girl, this clearly high- maintenance girl. Being so chill, (or lazy? rushed? what exactly is my problem here?), I tend to look more escaped Olsen twin than socialite. I hoped my boyfriend’s expectations in girlish looks wasn’t set this high and wouldn’t carry over to me. In reality I knew that inside, she was a mess of prescription pills, alcohol, and insecurities, but I couldn’t help but be a teensy bit jealous. On daddy’s dime she got to travel all over the world, like I wanted to, visiting exotic countries, eating exotic food, partying with exotic people, bringing her exotic-loving best friends with her- and good god, is she wearing Manolo Blanics?

Now I’m no label whore, but while my face is saying, “I love my practical Birkenstocks. No drunk stumbling in these. Good stuff.” Inside, I’m having a Carrie worthy reaction. “I.want.to.touch…. Just for a second…. or work more hours this summer, or- I should really open a credit card and immediately max it out.”

We swing over to the group she’s surrounded by, mutual friends and homies. She lightly kisses each cheek in the circle as if that’s normal behavior in Bozeman MT.  Another ex pops into the scene to say hi. It never fails to amaze me how my boyfriend’s exes seem to lurk around every corner. All of my exes, best girlfriends and otherwise blew the state years ago. I have a hard enough time wrangling up someone to go to the movies with. Yet 99.8% of his past flames all hung around to be friends. I’m not a particularly insecure person, and it’s lovely that everyone gets along so swimmingly, but personally, I daydream about a good blatant ignoring of past lovers while I swish by looking fabulous.

The practical part of me says that such behavior is ridiculous- and really, we’re all adults here. But the realistic side knows that even the most fabulous of women have an insecure moment here and there. And perhaps that doesn’t mean we’re weak, instead it makes us confront who we are, and be willing to accept that. So maybe Sasha has a fabulous wardrobe- but perhaps she wishes she had the balls to go out wearing an oversized poncho like me. Maybe not. But as long as I feel fantastic about myself I suppose it really doesn’t matter. Anyway, I’m off to DSW.com to find some Manolo Blanics for the next time we run into each other. 

Ciao Bella.