Spice Girl

I’ve never understood the Spice Girls.  Baby Spice, Posh Spice, Scary Spice, Sporty Spice and – what – Ginger Spice ?  I can never remember the other girl.

But I think if I were a Spice Girl (“If I were a Spice Girl….na-na-na-na-na-na…”), I would probably be Sporty Spice.  I am active.  I find sports and all that pretty inspiring. I have lots of running shoes. I look forward to the Summer Olympics with anticipation.  The stories behind the athletes make me feel like someday, given enough time and effort and better genes, I could compete on a world-class level. Maybe I could even medal.

I had someone I didn’t know “like” my post from a few days back.  I went to her blog, just to check it out and maybe “like” one of hers or leave a comment.  It’s WordPress etiquette, folks!  Anyway, she’s gorgeous.  She’s fashionable and an interior designer and a mama.  Sigh.  She’s glamorous.  She’s photogenic. She is, in a word, Posh Spice.

Insert another sigh here.

I will never be Posh Spice.  Being glamorous and high maintenance, coiffed and painted and clothed in the latest fashion is not me. I am relatively in style.  I wear clothes that fit and don’t cover myself in pictures of turtles or wear clothes held together with duct tape.  I am not secretly dreading an intervention from TLC’s “What Not To Wear”.  There are far more likely candidates, several in my neck of the woods, in fact.

But lately, I find myself wondering…what’s it like on the other side?  I have a few friends who are uber chic.  They dress well.  They are beautiful.  Their nails grow long and their hair looks, uh, purposeful. What bridge did they cross to get there?  Did they sell an organ?  Can I join this club, or is there a secret society involved that must approve me first?

The other Spice Girls hold no mystery for me.  Baby Spice?  Next!  Oh yeah, Ginger Spice?  Really?  Scary Spice.  Don’t I know you?  You remind me of a teacher I had in high school.  Anyway, the other “Girls” seem less interesting to me, less intriguing.  They seem to lack any special powers.

I mean, what if they were superheroes?  Baby Spice has the power of being girly.  Huzzah!  “I beat you senseless with my lollipop!”  Ginger Spice has…red hair.  Perhaps it catches on fire at opportune times, and her head becomes a flame-thrower.  Scary Spice has a special yell.  Whoopity do!  Doesn’t Tarzan have that, not to mention Billy Idol?

Since I default to Sporty Spice, I would have the power to run really fast.  Or maybe I could just look like I run really fast.

But Posh Spice.  She would have the power of glamour, the British spelling the only appropriate way to express it. There it is, the g-word. The online dictionary defines glamor/glamour as :

1. An air of compelling charm, romance, and excitement, especially when delusively alluring.
2. Archaic A magic spell; enchantment.
 
Delusively alluring.  Huh.  That’s not something I aspire to.  It has a negative connotation – a deceptively charming person who casts a sort of enchantment over another person. Okay, so maybe I don’t want to be Posh Spice.  She sounds more like a villain than a superhero. I don’t want to be deceptive in any way, and certainly not in a way that is enticing.
 
Back to Sporty Spice.  I can work with that. After all, I have the clothes already.
 
Or maybe we could come up with another Spice Girl?  Mommy Spice?