i'm that loser

self portrait with eduardo
Originally uploaded by kristalynn.

the first time it happened was in high school. my tiny high school of 150 students. one day everyone came to school talking about nella's (not real name - must protect the annoying) INCREDIBLE birthday party. apparently, all 148 other students were in attendance. me and one other girl were not invited.

and not only was i not invited, but everyone had managed to keep it from me so that i couldn't even show up uninvited. it was such a small school, we knew everything.

i knew it was official. i was a loser.

i attended a private international school in rome. now before you get all floody floo on me, please know that i was a military brat, and this was the posing of a lifetime. it could have been barrie, ontario or moosejaw, saskatchewan. but we got rome.

and this school was attended by kids of diplomatic parents, kids whose wealthy italian families wanted them to learn english, and kids of wealthy american families who just wanted their kids away.

and then there was me. and my sister. but i think my sister got invited to the party.

apparently, little miss perfect birthday girl had some wicked 80s band perform (could it have been haircut 100?) and sat around opening her super expensive gifts for hours, one of which was an original warhol print.


the second time it happened was during my first freelance contract. i had landed a pretty good job doing flight training at bombardier. i worked in a team of about 12 and i had organized a night out to celebrate the project's end.

i sat, waiting, at the bar with one other girl. we were on our third gimlet once everyone else finally showed up.

"sorry we're late. we went out to dinner." said one of the idiots.

"yeah, we ate PERUVIAN." said another.

the girl i was waiting with didn't just swallow her losership like i do. "what the FUCK? you all went to DINNER?" she turned to me. "do you believe this?"


the third time it happened took me by surprise. i'd figured that i'd gotten older and more comfortable in my skin. that being completely disregarded and/or forgotten would not bother me as much.

i walked into my coffee shop (see july 27) one weekend.

"what are you doing here krista? why aren't you with everyone else?" asked vito, the coffee guy.

again. "what do you mean?"

"everyone's doing the walk for breast cancer. why aren't you there?"

"no one TOLD me!"

"oh. [awkward pause] coffee?"

you know, i (sort of) have breasts. me and the ladies would have walked for breast cancer.

"everyone" came by the coffee shop when they were done. all pink and be-teeshirted. i glared at them.