11 Steps To Get Revenge, Queen ‘B’ Style

Mean Girls
Mean Girls

Being a Queen B is very difficult. People don’t realize this. They think it’s some kind of waltz in the park where you get invited to parties and companies offer you swag. Please. I would trade all the free bottles of lotion in the world to be a normal person for one day.

Nobody talks about the darker side of the top of the hierarchy. A fight with a friend isn’t just a bad day. It can destabilize your entire social standing. One day you’re kissing the quarterback. The next, you’re eating lunch next to a mouth breather who slurps shepherd’s pie through a straw because he just got his braces tightened. Every day turns into a day that you don’t punch him in his deviated septum. Fucking nerd.

And when you’re well-liked, friends are important. Why, if it weren’t for them, you wouldn’t be where you are today – popular and surrounded by your friends. A Queen B’s entourage keeps her grounded, gives her honest lowdowns. Does she look good? Or does she look great? They put her wants before their needs. They provide a sounding board so she can talk shit about her other friends.

My point is, when you lose a friend with access to a sublime collection of vintage Halston and get stuck with three idiots who wear Juicy Couture tracksuits, it can be kind of devastating.

Obviously, during a fight with a friend, it’s best to refrain from ad hominem attacks or anything Latin. Don’t bring irrelevant facts into the argument, like how she moves her lips when she reads street signs. Also, don’t put her down. Mention that yes, she is bigger than you, but only because she has a naturally larger frame, and seriously, does she, like, hate fat people or something? Because that would be messed up.

If these generous tactics don’t change her attitude, it’s time to take your fight to the next level and involve other people. Not only will this help you vent, but it’ll give you a chance to finally be part of something bigger than yourself, like community service or religion.

1. OK, Bitch hasn’t spoken to you in 43 hours or faved your last 15 IG pics. What is going on. (Note that this is not a question. It’s a foregone conclusion.) The time is nigh to rope your pal Krissa into your telenovelas. This most recent crime, although petty, is one in a much larger series of dick moves that, frankly, you are sick about. Krissa may ask if you’re getting your period. Shake your head no, even if you are. Then ask her if unbridled anger makes you look bloated. She will say, “Actually, I thought you looked thinner. Anger suits you.” Krissa is now your Forever Sidekick for the next few weeks. Ply her with delicious snacks. Speculate that your former friend, now known as “The Plebe,” might suffer from severe labial asymmetry. How would you know this detail without being a creep? You wouldn’t; you’re projecting your bodily insecurities onto your sworn enemy now. This is the price of war.

2. A few hours into your tirade, notice that Krissa is coming up with more horrible things to say about your foe, almost like she is heading your insults off at the pass. Like she’s trying to horn in on this conversation of which she is clearly less than half. DO NOT LET THIS HAPPEN. Stick to mock scenarios and insults. Who is this Krissa really? Another so-called “friend”? Then get your period. Haha, now Krissa is making sense again.

3. Invite more people into the fray. Come up with dynamic, ever-changing nicknames for your enemy and her large Romanesque thighs, so you can rant about her in public. Go over the whole story again with your vigilantes about Cloaca Maxima’s horrible behavior, covering more ground and discovering new details with each telling. You are painting a vivid picture to weave into your posse’s impressionable minds, so visuals and shading should be added to give the story depth and range. Her backstory should be retold and exaggerated for vindictive effect. Talks of vengeance and payment should be debated for their practicality and the level of suffering they promise vis–à–vis the degree of the original offense. Later, other people will be called upon to hear the story, all in the name of giving you perspective, because more than anything right now, you need someone to say insightful things like, “Wow, that is seriously fucked up.”

4. Discuss and generally concede to swearing off future communications with Medea. After the initial sting of the slight wears off, the mocking of her friends, families, and pets ought to begin. Anybody with any affiliation to Big Hora becomes suspect, especially those who are her genetic offshoots. If your team can’t implicate a relative because too little personal information is known about them, prognosticate about their genetic tendency to do bitchy things. If the offender doesn’t have children, postulate that her ovaries are repositories full of unborn fuckheads.

5. Continue to impart to your team that you hate drama. That nobody hates drama more than you. You should say something like, “I hate drama so much. Right? RightRightRight?” This confident interrogative makes it very clear to everyone that you don’t even want to talk about this; you just want to live your life in peace.

6. You and the Pissy Posse are now a group of superheroines dedicated to fighting crime. And two-faced Janus is your Toxic Avenger. Toxic to anyone she’s around because she’s such a flipping attention whore. And now that she is out of your life FOR GOOD, you can enjoy being happy again. Not right now, of course. But really soon. You are trying to be positive, but it’s not easy because she just insulted you five days ago. And how can anybody expect to remain upbeat when they have to live under a cloud of beautifully filtered pictures gone unfaved? That is straight-up inhumane.

7. Along the way, notice your posse is losing morale. They don’t seem as interested in hating on your arch nemesis. In particular, Krissa. You were on the phone with her recently, and when you mentioned Lardass Andronicus, you felt her eyes glaze over (this is just one of your unique powers of deduction). She also started talking about some dinner party. This kind of dismissive conduct and change of subject matter feels like a breach of friendship, a breach of security. You need the help, the assistance, the ear of the rest of your teammates. They will not fucking believe what is going down.

8. Your crew is now gathered around you. They were obviously so upset by the actions of Krissa, now known as Bitch #2 – (Seriously, how many bitches are there? Is it infinite bitches, like space?) – that they called an emergency summit meeting. Bitch #1 will be discussed, of course, but now this is totally about the second bitch too. It’s a perfect moment to notice a plate of Newman’s fat-free fig newtons within arm’s reach.

9. You were supposed to pass around the plate, not eat all of them yourself.

10. Instead of letting you monopolize the conversation, like in a democracy, your friends are taking turns speaking ONE AT A TIME. Do they not realize how inefficient not talking over other people is? You will never get to even the simplest vindictive scenario that, if implemented, will have Bitch #2 wishing she were a mollusk. Slowly, it dawns on you that this meeting isn’t about her…

Nine Months Later…

11. You and former enemy, Cankles Galore, are laying on the beach sharing a pint of Rocky Road Talenti gelato as you pour over the latest Vogue listening to Robyn. You’ve been out of Cunt Rehab for almost six months, and the Clockwork Orange-style therapy they did seems to have cooled your heels, because every time you start to talk shit about someone, you throw up. So now you’re super nice, and you lost eight pounds! Who’s the sweetheart now, bitches? Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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