This post first appeared on moNSTerblog.
Lets call her Princess. I’ve known Princess for a very long time. Our history dates back to pre-Asian Economic Crisis. Back then, we both disliked boys, had under-developed chests, used the same multi-coloured Swan brand school bags and enjoyed abnormally long late night telephone calls. In fact, Princess wasn’t even a princess then. She was my best friend and we swore to live together in a luxurious penthouse once we become successful career women.
Suddenly, in the midst of surviving my first haircut disaster, my best friend’s chest started to develop, her naturally silky straight hair began to capture admirers while her skin stayed as spotless as the first day I met her. Imagine all of those things taking place while I looked like Pennywise.
Pennywise.
Princess and Pennywise. A certain interesting ring to it, don’t you think? In simple terms, I wasn’t thrilled to have my best friend transforming into a different person, what’s more, a better person than me. It was so difficult to juggle between harbouring evil thoughts about Princess and maintaining our dear friendship. I suppose, at the age of 13, I could have just easily raised the white flag to jealousy but for some weird reason, I didn’t. Princess was my best friend, and she soothed me as much as she provoked me.
Things of course ironed themselves out eventually. Along the way, I discovered push-up bras, hair straighteners and Oprah, my spiritual enlightenment. Then, got a couple of hearts broken and the score was even. It’s like old times again with Princess, only better. Well, I refuse to talk about the time when Princess got herself respectfully employed while I rolled around living off other people’s hard-earned money.
Funny isn’t it, how women are so competitive. There is no distinction, whether she is a stranger, an enemy, a best friend or your Mother, the instinct is to compare and compete. No matter how much you deny your feelings, you secretly wish that they were lesser or at least at par with you. It is sort of scary, but that is the way we women are made of. Relationships can be destroyed and forged (as in my case), so ladies, keep those claws to yourselves first!