We were at the valet waiting for our cars. It was unseasonably warm so none of us minded much. My Ford was parked right in front and you were waiting for your Range Rover while talking to your girlfriend. I really liked your ponytail, particularly the back comb and the highlights, they looked good. Your friend was wearing yoga clothes and a hat that looks like this one.
At first I was thinking how lucky we all were to be standing in the California sunshine enjoying a low stress afternoon. You’d obviously just finished at the stables and I was on my way to get a hair cut. Then I was snapped out of my reverie and had to fight the urge to murder you.
I started hearing things like, “Of course she knows all the boys on the soccer team.” And the parts of your face that weren’t paralyzed by Botox squinched up and you made a point of mentioning that she was the kind of girl who knows all the boys on the Junior Varsity and Varsity teams. And then you and yoga pants cackled together the way that only miserable old crones can cackle while slamming a teenage girl. There was talk about her dating everyone, being “overly friendly” and having a slutty mother too.
I continued listening to your conversation. I didn’t even pretend like I wasn’t because you aren’t the kind of women who bring out the manners in me. I stood there for ten minutes slackjawed while you talked about high school girls and how slutty they are. According to you the private school your boys attend has the makings of a whore house.
I wanted to yell at you and ask you if you remembered what it’s like to be a teenager but then I realized that you don’t know what it’s like to be a nice adult so I’m pretty sure you weren’t a peach as a 16 year old. Then I wanted to cry because the thought of two mothers talking about either of my kids like this made weak at the knees. Finally I remembered who I was and started fantasizing about your demise.
I will never understand being on the north end of 40 and gossiping about someone else’s child. We’re all guilty of talking about someone. Gossip is human and sometimes it’s part of how we bond with one another. It’s not the best part of who we are but it does happen.
To watch two adult women rip into a teenager? It’s unspeakable.
If you’re the horse riding, Range Rover driving, hair weaving, Ariat wearing mom who was in Studio City today I really did miss introducing myself to you and that’s a good thing. Because I’d probably be serving time and you’d probably be crying to your talk doctor right now trying to figure out why people don’t like you.