My Grandma and Your Grandma Sitting By The Fire

Yesterday, I accompanied Marjorie and Mark to Robinson's Place to help the previous buy a bathing suit for her out of town swimming escapade with her thesis mates tomorrow. After we have dropped her off for her Spanish lessons at the Instituto Cervantes, Mark and I had our own little chit chat until late night. It seems that in the middle of the conversation, I began to process several observations regarding our monthly night-outs together. I've been open in mentioning several circumstances where I felt compromised.

Now that one of our peers has taken up a girl friend, one who is by far the prettiest girl we've ever met or seen, I could not stress how much I am experiencing that pang of jealousy. My friends have always been a lovely bunch - most are courtable beauties who know how to carry themselves with trendy outfits and matching accessories. During our nights together, they'd be clad in hip bar clothes with their intricately painted faces, while I'd feel completely out of place in my casual jeans and sleeveless top (one which I'd often wear since I don't have much in my wardrobe). They'd be very pumped to order alcoholic drinks, sometimes take time out to smoke a cig, while I feel the need to conform despite my aversion to such habits. Now that there is a new addition to our group, I feel more threatened to be pushed as one of the plain ones and thus I feel compelled further to move into the fashionista circle - a feat I fear would somehow give rise to some identity issues.

Sigh. My friends do not force me to fit into their manner of dressing and acting but of course, by lack of fitting in, one runs the risk of being cut off from particular vitalities. As I illustrated.. since I don't drink.. would you take me as a drinking buddy? Of course not. And therefore you cut me off from any information that you'd mind sharing in the course of drunkeness. Sigh. Introverted and conventional little me.