Krista subtly pointed Molly out across the room, and I could see that not much had changed since I’d last seen her ten years ago. Same bleached blond hair, same overdone makeup, same phony laugh, and same fake smile. At first glance, one would assume that Molly Timmerman was the most popular girl in our graduating class as she appeared to be holding court over a group of our former classmates. And while she surrounded herself with several other girls who boosted her status, most of us could not stand her or her little clique. She was the center of attention because she made herself that way. She was loud and bossy, and most people just let her have the floor, not wanting to attempt to take her on knowing they would just get bowled over by Molly’s insatiable need to feel like she was the most important person in the room.
Being around Molly and her friends during college had been like going back in time to junior high. They were malicious, stuck up and often just plain rude. In fact, it was worse than junior high because while my fellow childhood classmates and I had all had our share of ugly moments as tweens and teens, none of us where ever as bad as Molly was on her nicest day. But she and her groupies got away with their behavior because all of them came from money, which is why they ended up at a private college and not their respective state universities where the academic requirements were stricter. While many students choose Lakeview College because of the curriculum and desire for smaller class sizes, girls like Molly came because their parents could buy them admission. And that wealth alone seemed to make both students and staff alike feel as though they could not stand up to them. Most of us just did our best to avoid Molly and her friends, putting on our own fake smiles when forced to deal with them.
And for whatever reason, Molly seemed to target me more than any other girl on campus. Even though Molly told anyone who would listen that I was one of her best friends, she never missed a chance to take a dig at me or to humiliate me in front of others. Her college major seemed to be “Making Leah Andrews Miserable.” She and her best friend, Jenn, lived in the dorm room next to Krista and me our freshman year; so perhaps she was just presented with an easy target straight out of the gate. I had no time for drama, and had honestly never really dealt with it before; but it was what Molly was always trying to stir up. My refusal to go along with her childishness seemed to fuel her desire to bully me even more.
“Do you know how many calories are in bagels? I could never eat a bagel; I would get so fat!” she always exclaimed anytime she saw me eating a bagel. And I liked bagels; they were my go-to lunch during freshman year. But as soon as she spotted me eating one, she would dash across the room, insert herself into our group’s conversation, and then make her bagel-shaming comments. “Careful with those bagels, Leah,” she’d say in a mock serious tone, “you don’t want to put on any MORE weight!” To this day, I cannot even look at a bagel without shuddering and remembering Molly.
Finally, one day Krista told Molly to shut up about the bagels already as the whole damn school by now knew her opinion of them and were sick of hearing about it. And as outgoing as Krista was, even she never stood up to Molly. I was eternally grateful to Krista for speaking up for me as I was too scared to do it myself for fear of how Molly would retaliate. And while Molly did start picking on Krista for a while, Krista fought back; and eventually Molly stopped. Instead, she made more of an effort to hide her jabs at me behind a “I’m just trying to help!” façade.
Molly started (and always in front of other people) commenting on my looks, saying that I’d be so pretty if I knew how to apply makeup, that my hair would be really cute if I knew how to style it, and that my outfits would be better if I just choose different colors. “You’re majoring in English? Well, that is perfect for someone like you!” she exclaimed with fake admiration. “Librarians are so important, aren’t they, girls?” she would ask her cronies, who would nod in agreement. “I can already see you growing old in a big old library, checking out books and telling people to be quiet.” She would then give me a wink before tossing her hair and prancing off.
“I’m not going to be a librarian!” I remember calling after her, albeit in a faint voice. “I’m going to be a writer. Or an editor.” I sighed and thought to myself that maybe I would end up as a librarian, wearing itchy wool cardigan sweaters and surrounded by dusty old books. Even as a freshman, I had started to wonder about my career prospects, or lack thereof, with an English degree.
Pretty much the only time Molly and I interacted was when she was insulting me in front of other people. But she would always back it up with a big smile and a hug saying how much she loved me and that she was only trying to help. We never spent any one-on-one time together, so our interactions were always with an audience, my humiliation always public.
Everyone knew Molly was being mean to me; no one believed she was well-meaning in her “advice.” And that made it worse, the fact that she not only embarrassed me in front
