Have you seen the movie 'Heathers'? Because apparently, my name is fitting.
Probably my junior year of college, my roommate Natalie came home (she was attending the local community college, I was at the local four year) and announced:
"I'm doing a group project with someone you went to high school with."
It wasn't a huge surprise since I was attending college about 10 miles from where I grew up.
"Who was it?" She told me, I won't say who it was here because it's probably irrelevant anyhow. I'll just call her Veronica (okay, if you don't get that please go watch Heathers. I'm serious.)
"I asked if she knew Heather Green and she said yes - I told her we're roommates."
"She said 'I'm sorry'."
Thus began my soul searching to decide if I really, truly was a bitch in high school.
I'll admit, I did some petty things, but overall I always thought I was a nice person. But judging from Veronica's reaction to me, I guess maybe I thought wrong.
Bothersome to say the least - I can get obsessive over these things. Probably more then than now. I'm really susceptible to other's opinions of me. B thinks I'm crazy - he's one of those lucky people who thinks everyone can go stick their opinions. Not me.
I thought about Veronica's festering dislike of me and tried and tried to remember something I did to her - said about her - even if I looked at her funny at some point. Nothing surfaced.
My high school career was filled with a lot of self doubt, loathing, body hatred, you name it. So basically, pretty typical. But my defense mechanism to this was to be ultra type A.
Yearbook editor, three sports a year, as many clubs as I could join - you name it, I did it. I made myself so busy that maybe I put off some false aura of confidence.
So I guess I embodied Heather to some people.
But inside I felt like Martha Dumptruck.
I saw Veronica at our high school reunion and I swear I felt like she was trying to impress me, which I found to be very odd and comical. And sad.
I guess in high school, we're all Martha Dumptruck.