Girlie-pop Identity Loss: She tried me on, before I knew my size

I often half joke that ‘I don’t know if she loves me, hates me or wants to wear my skin’. But when does ‘living for’ how your BFF turns up in the world, trip out into something else entirely?

The Thursday-is-the-new-Friday festivities are in motion, and you’re learning your bestie’s new lip combo of the month. A bottle of whatever the M&S trend hoppers are loving, is popped open and you’re in awe of your best friend’s endless edge of decisiveness regarding her ‘out out’ looks. You outwardly echo her certainty, pulling for all outfit combinations packed into the sack aiming to replicate an overnight bag. The scalp-prickling warmth hits you, as you know for the second outing this month: your look can only be pulled together with her assistance.

You cradle your internal screams, by thinking ‘it’s okay, this is HER thing, she’s into clothes much more than I am’. But the energy dive can even be felt by neighbours getting their last fix of Corrie for the week, a few doors down.

There it lies: the subtle emergence of the leader vs follower dynamic in your friendship. Often the ‘follower’ catches herself, slyly mirroring her gal-pal with all the superficial visual attributes that she thinks make up her best friend’s entire identity. Humorous one-liners get nabbed for external use, plus styling tips are presented as original ideas and all whilst feeling like she is the coolest girl you’ve ever met.

Pandering to your own insecurities, by assuring yourself that this is the natural exchange of a confidence boost – for all of the physical labour you apply in order for her to appear as her. The extensive restaurant sittings, spent getting the perfect shot to thumbnail her next insta dump. Plus to ALWAYS mention, sleepovers are spent applying heatless rollers to ensure your bestie can achieve the “effortless” vibe that her hair gives.

Buried within a not-so-deep compartment of your self worth, you’ve decided that there can be only one Beyoncé in this duo’s destiny.

The bona fide exchange is that one gal is left feeling that she has to retain future iterations of her self-image, to save from being ripped off and sold back to herself through faux reverence. Silently, on the other side of the union another friend is finding herself via close observation of dance floor based flirting sessions, between her secret idol and the last guy to momentarily convert through the air of local celeb.

We rarely name this ‘persona merger’, or even acknowledge its divisive spirit. Said energy manifesting within the disciple by her putting in over time to garner the same level of attention, sometimes from the SAME guys that her bestie effortlessly moves through. Any time spent around a girlie-group, will have lent some nuance to your own wisdom regarding this old trope. Flirting with the guy, who is gasping to breathe the same air as your friend – is almost never about the guy. That routine is based upon wanting to feel like ‘THAT Girl’.

Eventually it feels like outsiders alienating the duo, as they’re just “a little too close, for our comfort”. All based on a sheer lack of self awareness, shared amongst the two. Not limiting itself to the recognised ‘leader’ throwing curve balls in the dance that is their rigid dynamic. Suddenly there is less time spent, a host of “no’s” to very simple requests and the all important ‘stop sign’ planted on the sharing of life updates. Ultimately the belief that gal-pal friendships can only exist by getting through life, living on top of each other isn’t ready to escape the number one cheerleader character either.

If we <3 the people who shape us, how do we define where admiration ends and the parody begins?

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