I started writing this post as a tangent when I was trying to recap my weekend in Santa Barbara. Now, here it is, tangent-turned-stand-alone-post of its own.
I have two main insecurities in life. Most people think being tall is one of them, because I talk about being tall so much. But my tallness is not one of my insecurities. (As a side note, it drives me NUTS when my non-tall friends tell me I talk about being tall too much. You try being in my body for a few days, head-and-shoulders above everyone, where literally everywhere you go, eyes follow you in amazement and/or disgust. And then you see what you end up talking about most of the time ;). Try it, really, I bet it would be a fun experiment. Like a fat suit experiment on 20/20, but for talls.)
While tall is not one of them, my weight is one of them, because I’m already so tall and noticeable that I would rather not also be wide. I feel like I’m taking up enough space on earth as it is 😉
The other one, and the overall point of this post, is the fact that I grew up poor. It’s not that I am ashamed at all of my past, but law school and my ensuing career has sort of propelled me into all of these situations where I’m surrounded by wealth and by people who live/have lived very privileged lives.
Somehow I’ve managed to adapt well and “pass” such that people never guess my background is what it is. But in the back of my mind I always worry in those situations that somehow they know, or are going to figure out, that I’m not one of them. Like in movies a la Pretty Woman or Sweet Home Alabama. Luckily, I’m not a prostitute, and not lying about my last name while secretly still married to my high school sweetheart from the deep south, but I do still worry that people might figure me out and decide I don’t belong. Silly, right? (Well, it’s not completely unfounded. One time during my 1L year I was at a fancy dinner, and Alexander was explaining all of the silverware to me, and how to properly use it all, and this guy across the table rolled his eyes at me. Excuuuuuuuse me, sorry my family hasn’t been eating with 14 forks at every place setting since I was 5 years old. And another time, I was at a fancy restaurant and I was just trying to be helpful, as I would in a less classy place such as Applebees, and stack the dishes for the waiter. Apparently, I was not supposed to do that, and it was suggested that maybe I would like to join the wait staff).
I’m coming to grips with it though. There was a time in early law school where I wouldn’t go into an expensive store without Alexander, because in my mind he looked rich and I didn’t. Now, I go into stores I want to go in, and contrary to my silly thoughts, nobody treats me like I shouldn’t be there. I think the insecurity is finally fading. Which is why this all came up when I attempted to write about my weekend in Santa Barbara. I spent the weekend at my friend’s parents’ very nice vacation home in Montecito, chatting in the mornings with the very successful parents, out on their beautiful boat for lunch one day, and down at a private beach club for lunch the next, and the whole time I felt comfortable. I felt like I fit in just fine.
So maybe I can finally let go of insecurity #2, and start focusing on insecurity #1 (hellooooo Jillian Michaels). However, in the back of my mind I do wonder if when I least expect it, I will be in a situation full of rich people and they will whip out the secret handshake and I won’t know it and they will be like, “..AHA! GOTCHA!” I suppose we’ll just deal with that when we get to it 😉