'Golden Girl’s' Burning Question
Can nice girls ever finish first?
Okay, we as women know the score. We are conditioned to be nobody’s fool, to be independent, date excessively before settling down, go for the best and highest paid jobs...after all, our sisters back along the decades burnt their bras to afford us these privileges. What happens, however if you are not naturally sassy or are not channeling an inner bitch, waiting to emerge in your own defence? What is a girl to do?! Can you ever really be fulfilled and successful in life by being a “nice girl?” This is the question that I have been asking myself for a long time.
Anyone who knows me will testify that I am probably the nicest person that they know. I will stop a stranger in the street to tell them that I like their hair, I donate to charity and I help old ladies cross the road. Now, I’m well aware that these things make me no better than the chick standing next to me. I am also aware that I probably haven’t gone as far in life as I might have done based on my fear of stepping on other people’s toes or, God forbid, upsetting somebody else.
This line of thought got me to thinking, if I became a bitch for a day, would my day be more productive and would I indeed achieve more of my daily goals? 24 whole hours of doing the opposite of what I would normally do. What could go wrong?!
Well the first time I received an answer to that innocuous question was in the queue to be served in Costa. The harassed looking barista asked who was next. I knew I wasn’t next, the girl beside me knew I wasn’t next. In fact every fibre of my being screamed that I wasn’t next. Sod it... “I’m next!” I gloated, perhaps a little too loudly to the death stare of the girl next to me. I waited for the euphoria to set in. I, Emma Haywood, had done something wrong! However, the stars aligned and instead of said euphoria I was hit by a shockwave of guilt so fierce that it threatened to make me hurl my caramel macchiato straight back up (once the inept barista has finally gotten around to serving it to me). A similar experience was had when a woman leaving the toilets in Asda emerged with her skirt caught in her knickers. I was in a rush for the bus which was due in less than a minute. I could have took 2 seconds to alert to her misdemeanour but did I?! No I did not!! Once again I waited for the town cryer equivalent of euphoria to overwhelm me...in its place...searing guilt for the rest of the day. I made my bus and ultimately my destination on time but I couldn’t shake the thought of that poor woman and the way in which she found out about her exposure. Was it a public humiliation? If it was I could definitely have spared her that.
As the day wore on I realised that I really didn’t like this new me. She was, quite frankly, a complete cow. Okay she had been served faster in the queue and made the earlier bus but are those really my life goals? No way!! So I aborted my mission way short of the 24 hours.
And my findings? Nice girls probably rarely finish first but my halo is definitely back in place and it is never going crooked again...for anyone.