I'd like to begin this post by reminding my readers of the simplicity and happiness for which the human form exists. We're aliens, all of us; radioactive beings that live so close to the sun it's miraculous we can stick around for 8-10 decade, which is just a second in the reality of time. The space time continuum may not be entirely understood, but if you are reading this you're fucking special. SO fucking special. How we got here has been debated and questioned since the beginning of time, just as enjoying our time here has become less and less important. Ever had your heart broken? --By someone you loved so much, maybe even sacrificed for, maybe even compromised your standards for (only causing you to love them more), were honest and sincere with--- only to find out that it was all a sham? Fall for the inept while thinking they were adept? Consider this: is a love for life not unrequited love?? Is life in it of itself not a giant sham that always ends in heartbreak?
That's what this blog is now about: to save you from the heartbreak and show you how to go to the fire. The Brunch girls started as a conversation with a cool, beautiful, stylish upperclassman in my freshman French class; who for some reason unbeknownst to me wanted to be my friend, too. It was a new year at a new school after spending 10 at the same twenty-six-thousand-dollar-a-year dungeon of a private school my parents forced me into. If I had known then what I know now, I'd have saved myself a lifetime of misery and self-doubt. I never understood why I didn't fit in or why I was bullied and berated on a daily basis as the everlasting butt of every single joke, nickname, and outburst. I never knew why they said I was "fat" and "ugly" nor did I see it in the mirror. And so I ran. I ran and I ran and I ran. Every single day. I sprinted, i did HIIT before HIIT was even a thing. I did intermittent fasting before that was even popular. I worked my ass off, at age 12, consuming only a Naked juice and thirteen pretzel crisps per day (I know, I know, ew). And I got to high school and this cool girl in french wanted to be my friend!?! Why me I wondered, this time for a positive thing. I couldn't figure out why she-or anyone for that matter- accepted me and thought I was decent. Didn't they know who I was? Didn't they know I was a pathetic social outcast who could only be useful as the punchline for a fat joke--or an ugly one? The answer is no, they did not know that. And they did not know it because to them, it wasn't true.
All I ever wanted was to belong to something; to be a part of something that I could contribute to and learn from. But as the eldest child of a very messy (and mutually silent) marital dissolution of two emotionally retarded parents, being rejected and berated and bullied was just par for the course. Being a pawn on a chess board would have been more favorable--at least they are surrounded by peers who seem to have similar goals/purpose. But favorable conditions do not a warrior make. So years later, in college where I got my real validation, I found myself again being bullied by these girls only because they wanted to. Only because they could and I was weak and my aura weakened men. And one day, I figured it all out. It's all political. It's all fucking political.
Life itself is political and maybe thats why we obsess over US politics and government policies. The kids bullied me not because I wasn't indian or asian or from that one beachside town everyone else was from (kudos again to my parents to commuting me 45 minutes and paying tens of thousands of dollars for me to be bullied into hating myself) it was because of my MOM. My bubbly, bouncy, 5'5, blonde, petite, sunflower of a mother who sported DD tits and a billion dollar smile. My mom, who came from poverty and abuse and never let anyone even guess it. My mom, who rocked a tiny, 1 carat diamond and last season's Lacoste tennis wear was the ENVY of all the other moms who weren't heiresses themselves. They were plagued with JEALOUSY and guilty of being the epitome of nouveau riche, and that didn't stop my mom from being hotter and smarter and better than them. She was the outcast, not me!! And suddenly I realized that there is nothing I would rather be than just like her. Her essence, I mean, add a few karats to the rock and take away the husband/his extra chromosome and that's not a bad fate. Alone, but only as a punishment for being the best. It is lonely at the top and so you will be hearing more from the BRUNCH girls very soon. I'm also sharing a photo of one of the brunch girls for the first ever time. Heads up tho, she's ugly and fat!!
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