The Blonde With The Big Boobs

In college I had a gorgeous, bubbly roommate named Cheri. She was the kind of girl that other girls watched out of the corners of their envious eyes as she went bouncing by. A luscious waterfall of blonde hair shimmered like a silky golden blouse, blue eyes sparkled like the glitter from art class in the 2^nd grade, and that smile, that perfect white smile framed by adorable dimples – a jury of her peers would most certainly find her guilty of possessing an unfair advantage.

Not surprisingly, the guys were helpless against the pull of her magnetic north to their south poles. They would follow her around like the pied piper’s hypnotized mice.

But when she opened her mouth, the enchantment was quickly broken. No one in the world could love themselves as much as this babbling Barbie doll. Her endless narcissistic chatter effectively reversed her intense magnetic pull, repelling all but the shallowest of suitors.

But as I got to know this flawless mannequin in a v-neck sweater and a mini skirt, it became obvious that she was desperately searching for a few crumbs confidence and a shred of evidence that she truly was this wonderful girl she spoke of. Every word uttered from those shapely pink lips was a plea: please see how amazing I am, please affirm that I am the most beautiful and desirable girl you know.

Many of her narratives began with, “So I walked into the bar, and this guy nearly fell off his chair – ‘Wow! Who’s the blonde with the big boobs???’”

She so often described herself this way, as the blonde with the big boobs, that eventually that’s what we called her. She was no longer Cheri; she was The Blonde With The Big Boobs.

She loved that nickname. Although she'd feign annoyance when we said it, her brazen eyes sparkled with delight.

I always wondered, though, did she really even see herself this way? Or did she see herself as The Worthless Girl Who Dates Arrogant Assholes, or perhaps The Trailer Park Kid From A Broken Home, or The Loser Who Dropped Out After Freshman Year.

Or maybe she really did see herself as The Blonde With The Big Boobs, and she felt that was all she really had going for her.

We ultimately became close friends, my patience with her nonsensical prattle paying off as she let down her “I’m So Beautiful” wall of protection and let me in. The stories of how she floored all the guys on campus with her stunning good looks eventually settled down. She was a sweet girl underneath her blanket of pretentiousness.

I’m sad to say that we lost contact after college. I think about her often, and I worry for her, and I hope that she’s okay.

I remember you Cheri, and you will always be My Beautiful Friend With the Smile That Lit Up the Room.

“If you need encouragement, praise, pats on the back from everybody, then you make everybody your judge.” - Fritz Perls