The big surprise - and it's not really even a surprise - is that the new book is a prequel to Bitter. The bulk of it takes place in the 70's and 80's and it's super nostalgic, which is going to nicely tie into the theme of the tour events. (Oh, wait. I guess that's the surprise. Shhh, you didn't hear it from me.)
While writing Pretty in Plaid, I spent a lot of time with my old yearbooks on display for inspiration. As I listened to my favorite 80's tunes from Wham and Duran Duran and Culture Club, I pored over the faded pages, reliving every speech meet... every school play... every newspaper assignment... and all the other nerdy activities in which I was involved.
In terms of my social standing, I turn to Milhouse in the Grade School Confidential episode of The Simpsons to best sum it up. "Three and a half. We get beat up, but we get an explanation."
Granted, I was kind of a bitch back in the day, but mostly because I was A) terrified of garnering the attention/ire of the popular kids, and B) couldn't ever eat lunch, having derived the bulk of my self esteem from wedging myself into a pair of size five Jordache jeans.
You guys? A single grilled cheese sandwich could have been disastrous.
So I'd say my low blood sugar was as much to blame as my aggressive-following personality.
I may have been an ass in high school, but I was only an ass to those who posed a direct threat, e.g. in competition for boyfriends, a speech team rival, at the newspaper, etc. I've never claimed to be a saint, but I was always empathetic. I was absolutely, unapologetically mean to the play leads and the prom queens, yet I went out of my way to be kind to those people the popular kids shunned.
You do not fuck with an underdog on my watch.
If you wrote bad poetry on the knee of your jeans? I was sweet to you.
The boy-crazy boys? We were BFF.
Kids who received discounted lunch tickets? Mock them and you had to answer to me.
Wore your saddle shoes and pleated cheerleading skirt on game days? Bitch, you were going down.
I guess that's why I was kind of floored to receive this note today, almost twenty-four years after high school graduation:
So my daughter calls me today and this was the conversation:
Daughter - Mom, I have a strange question
Mom - OK; what is it?
Daughter - Do you know a girl named Jennifer Lancaster?
Mom - Unfortunately yes, why do you ask?
Daughter - I had purchased a book and she made a reference to [our hometown] in 1985
Mom- Unbelievable!
Daughter - Were you two friends?
Mom - Far from it. I went to high school with her, church and spent two weeks at bible camp with her in the same cabin. She made no hesitation in letting people know she did not like you. She would giggle, point, comment on me whenever I went to church. She was a person who I considered a snob and someone I would classify as being one of the girls on the movie "Mean Girls." She was not a nice person.
Daughter - Oh sorry, I thought you two were friends.
Mom - Nope...What is her book about?
Daughter - About losing weight?
Mom - Hmmm.... (I'll keep the rest of my comments to myself)How funny I thought that my daughter would end up purchasing a book written by someone who made a point to let me know she didn't like me.
Now my daughter is 19 and she has her own life and does what she wants. But I will tell you this.. If I would have purchased the book and found out that you wrote it.. I would have asked for a refund.
Um, here's the thing... I HAVE NO IDEA WHO THIS PERSON IS.
I'm sitting here with my yearbook open and... yeah, I've got nothing. We were enemies? How could we be? Her name rings no bells, nor does her face. And I clearly remember who I didn't like in high school, having just written all those stories for this new book. This girl is just, well, she's Ann Veal. She's a blank slate. She's got a low center of gravity. You'd accidentally forget her in Mexico. Under her picture it says "Not pictured." (This will only be funny if you're an Arrested Development fan.)
I mean, I feel bad that she's harbored a grudge against me all these years but, again, I HAVE NO CLUE WHO SHE IS. If I recalled being a jerk, I'd apologize. I don't want people mad at me. And I love hearing from high school classmates. If I were to get a Facebook request from my worst high school enemy now, I'd be all, "OHMIGHOD, HOW ARE YOU, WE MUST GET TOGETHER, SQUEEEE!!"
Seriously, I embrace my past and I take responsibility for my actions.
But this girl?
With this reaction?
Oh, sweetie, you've kind of got to let it got. We went to camp together in 1981, which is just about the time I stopped having to go to church, so I'm pretty sure we've had zero interaction since then or else I would have known you.
Does it not stand to reason I might be a different person at 41 years old than I was at 13?? I mean, I don't have a Dorothy Hamill haircut now and I no longer cut shots of Jimmy Baio (Scott's cousin from Soap) out of TigerBeat. I'm pretty sure I didn't get Botox back then, so is it possible I could have changed a tiny bit for the better in the past twenty-eight years? Matured, perhaps?
Besides, did we learn nothing from Romy and Michele's High School Reunion? Everyone gets picked on in high school, regardless of social stature. To paraphrase my favorite scene, "The whole time you were making my life hell, the 'A' group was making your life hell? I didn't know." "I hurt your feelings?" "Yeah, all the time." "That's tremendous! Go get your stupid yearbook. I would be happy to sign it."
Anyway, I'm not claiming to not be a an asshole now because I kind of couldn't help myself after getting blind-sighted. My response? "I seriously don't know who you are."
To which she replied, "It's usually the people who get made fun of who wear the scars and remember. Good luck with your diet."
OK, not only did she call me out on shit of which I have no recollection, but she also just called me fat? Granted, it's true. But that's not karma, honey... it's carbs. And choices. And I've made peace with both.
When I tweeted a synopsis, my friend Badger summed it up best: "I graduated high school in 1984. Anyone who's been pissed at me THAT long can bite me on their way to getting a life."
Yeah. What she said.
Yet there's a tiny part of me that agonizes over someone who I may have inadvertently impacted.
So there's that.












