Society Column

I try to believe that the true blue bitches of seventh grade plateaued somewhere around age fifteen, and are now living colorless lives in some ugly suburban condo with four kids and a cheating, sleazy husband. My friends have stories like this about their seventh grade antagonists, how they went home recently and found Stacy or Michelle missing teeth and working at Wal-Mart, hair crisped by too much dye, morbidly obese, and still bragging about winning the dance contest at someone’s illicitly coed slumber party.

We laugh—“Totally acceptable schaudenfreude. Karmic”—and I skirt around the issue of my seventh grade nemeses, because they’re sure as hell not working at Wal-Mart or morbidly obese. I know this because my mother calls every Sunday to read me their wedding announcements in my hometown paper, and the vast majority of my those girls have write-ups that sound something like this:

“Maggie Fairchild, daughter of Dr and Mrs Henry Marlowe Fairchild of Asheville, married Robert Archer Winthrop IV (of Charleston, SC), this past Saturday at Trinity Episcopal Church.

Ms. Fairchild is a graduate of Brown University where she double majored in Art Semiotics and Political Science. She received a Master’s Degree in Comparative Lit from Stanford University, before attending Harvard Law. An Olympic snowboarder, she currently practices constitutional law at Winthrop, Winthrop, Steinberg, and LaMancha in New York City. Her self-titled debut album, “Maggie,” was released earlier this fall to critical acclaim

Dr Winthrop is a graduate of Harvard Medical School, and works as a Cardiologist at Name Hospital. A noted philanthropist, Dr Winthrop spends two months out of the year using art therapy and experimental procedures to heal impoverished children in leper colonies worldwide. His first novel, “Eat, Eat the Blossom,” published by Simon and Schuster, won the Pen/Faulkner award in 2003.

The bride and groom will honeymoon in Tahiti.”

You get the picture.

I squirm.

My Bio pales in comparison.

Let’s just put it this way: if you believe in karma, then I must have been a bad ass motherfucker in my past life