Spice Up Your Life

"Yo, I'll tell you what I wantÐ'...what I really really want!" "So tell me what you wantÐ'...what you really really want." "I want aÐ'...I want aÐ'...You know, I really really really want a zig-a zig-a ahhhhhh!"

Yes; I am a recovering Spice Girls addict. They were more than silly pop-singers from the mid nineties to me; they were my idols and exact replicas of what I wanted to be when I grew up. Their skimpy outfits, ridiculous hair styles, and abnormally high platform shoes were like signs from godÐ'...these women were amazing. And to top it all off, they had extremely creative names like Baby, Ginger, Posh, Scary, and Sporty! How could any young girl go wrong looking up to individuals like these for half-a-decade?

I remember the moment it happened. I was in my room flipping through my usual channels, like Disney and Cartoon network, and nothing was on. I stumbled onto MTV and then I saw them. They were the Spice Girls and I automatically wanted to be just like them. I didn't think that there was another way to live other than the spice way. I demanded that every pair of shoes in my closet, whether they were sneakers or sandals, have at least a two inch heel attached directly to the bottom in order to make me taller and more spice-like. My parents were slightly concerned at first, but then realized that I was just a young girl expressing my self through fashion, and they agreed to the minor change if foot-ware.

I began slowly, and broke them in to the changes that I would be making in wardrobe, as well as attitude and overall appearance. It was almost as if they didn't even notice. I told my father that I needed to get new back-to-school clothes which was code for "we need to hit the mall as soon as possible". He took the bait, just as I thought he would, and we went to the Marley Station Mall that very afternoon. Parents are unbelievably naive sometimes and I was very fortunate that my father was on this particular day. As we made our way through the mall that day, I tried little tricks to see just how far I could push him, and he could be pushed directly over the edge of a cliffÐ'...but I didn't take it that far. I began by trying on pants that had big belled bottoms and interesting prints, like flowers, peace signs, and smiley faces. After I had made that progress, I started to look for shirts that would match these new pants that I had "found". I looked at different materials and neck lines. I chose bright colors like yellows, pinks, and purples; so that my father would still think that he was dressing his little girl like a little girl. He didn't notice, however, the element of elasticity that these new-styled shirts had. I made sure they had this particular quality so that they could hug my curves, in the event that I would develop some in the near future. I left the mall that day feeling very accomplished and as if I had just masterminded some secrete operation for the CIA.

The next week school started and my clothes were the most spice-a-rific outfits in the whole class. One girl came close, but her shoes were not nearly as exciting as mine were; she stuck to the plain white platforms and I had every colorÐ'...not to mention a pair that had that my mother had painted a British flag on. All the kids knew that I was clearly a big deal that year and so did I. You would have thought I was a big deal too if you had seen my spice-strut. I had the walk, the attitude, and the clothes!

As the school year progressed, so did my addiction and my metamorphism into the world that is Spice. Every photograph taken of me after the beginning of that year also had a well-placed peace sign and some delightfully tacky pig-tales. I was confused at the time about which Spice Girl I was aspiring to be, but before long I would figure it out. Around Christmas time, the new c.d. came out and I memorized each word twice as fast as I had the one prior to it. I watched MTV every day for several hours hoping that their new music video would come on so I could tape it and memorize those tantalizing dance moves.