The etiquette expert on first impressions:
Supposing a new girl should suddenly step into your crowd, a girl with a slouchy walk and a 'before taking' complexion. A girl with listless eyes and stringy hair. A girl who reminds you of the butter-and-egg man— butter on her blouse and egg on her collar. Before she has even said a word, a swift appraisal runs through your mind, doesn't it? You think she can't possibly be very interesting because of that no-care slouchy walk. Her dull eyes tell you more. They do not radiate enthusiasm for anything. ... No, you think, I don't want her for a friend.
"OK so, first of all, who is the butter-and-egg man?"
"Yeah, that was my main concern."
"Should this girl be in a hospital?"
"I do not like how the narrator is telling us what we think. She doesn't know me. Maybe I fucking love butter. Hot news flash: I do."
"Yeah, and I keep it on my blouse. Easy to reach."
"This woman has come from a breakfast that sounds great and exhausting, and I want to be friends with her so I can go to that breakfast."
On proper haircare:
Does your hair glisten from countless brushings? One hundred strokes each night before you go to bed is a recipe for the shining halo, not an arm exercise...Use a brush with a stiff bristle and brush up as well as down to let the air get to your skin. Brush and brush and brush until your scalp tingles.
"How much air does my skin need?"
"Should I have hair left when this is done?"
"Is it like a burning sensation? How much should the tingle hurt."
"Is the goal here to look like Medusa afterward? Because opposite direction brushing is lunatic AF."
"How even????"
"Also, not to be rude, but countless brushings and one hundred are two very different things. Because one is a number. And one is literally fucking infinity."
On making any body beautiful:
Poor Borg! She was too little at the top and too big at the bottom, and around the middle— don't tell anybody, but she resembled an overfed baby! ... Most dejectedly she waddled beside Rosa until Bets took her by the hand and whispered, 'Borg, you've got to girdle that girth.' Bets knew what she was talking about. Whatever your body structure is, it is up to you to make your body as beautiful as possible.
"Borg?????????"
"Her parents were really condemning her with that name."
"It must be hard to be part of a civilization that travels space in a huge cube assimilating aliens, and ALSO have baby fat!!"
"Also, Bets is NOT a good friend."
"Can you immediately unfriend someone after they say, 'Girdle that girth'?"
"And the author tells us 'not to tell anybody' but then puts it into a fucking book? The shade!"
On prepubescent moodiness:
"She used to be such a sweet child. She's going to be a nagger when and if she ever gets married." Those were the whispered remarks about Pruddy. Pruddy herself knew something was happening to her but she didn't know what.
"So ominous????"
"Pruddy also isn't a name but OK."
"Is Pruddy dying?"
"Is she transforming into the She-Hulk?"
"Maybe she's growing paranoid because the adults around her won't stop whispering about her."
On boys:
Know your own strength. If a boy gives your hair ribbon a yank, don't turn around and bop him on the head with an armful of books. He is only teasing you—a peculiar way boys have of showing they like you. Just remember they are queer specimens or homo sapiens and they must be tolerated. There will always be boys, and boys will always be boys.
"Yikes."
"IMO an armful of books amounts to more than a 'bop.'"
"'Do not knock him unconscious with a brick.'"
"Can you remain facing forward and throw your books over your head and if any hit him, that's on him for not being more careful?"
"'There will always be boys' is a very scary phrase. It's like what a daycare worker screams when she has a nervous breakdown."
On the proper way to eat a salad:
"Lettuce" always eat our lettuce. Not to eat it tells the world how very, very old-fashioned you are. Try first to cut your salad with your fork. If you find it difficult, calmly pick up your knife and use it.
"Whoooo is freaking out about lettuce, to the extent that a 'keep calm' warning is required?"
"Jesus, have they had a lot of experiences in the past with girls NOT calmly picking up a knife? If so, larger issues at play than lettuce."
"Is lettuce the vegetable of the future?"
"Or was it something different in the past? Because, spoiler, in another section she describes a girl as 'squeamish' about 'cutting her lettuce.' What did lettuce used to be?"
"Is lettuce people?"
"Fucking. Lettuce is fucking."
On meeting new people:
"This is my daughter Dinah," said Mrs. Nelson, speaking politely. Whereupon Dinah blurted out "Hi," reached for a handful of candy and rushed up the stairs two at a time. Mother was horrified! The rest of the afternoon was ruined.
"Kind of seems like Mother has a low threshold for fear."
"'Speaking politely' was not necessary in that sentence. '...said Mrs. Nelson, screaming at the top of her lungs.'"
"What kind of candy was it?"
"What percentage of candy is a handful? If she took ALL of the candy then I can see why the afternoon was ruined."
"Someone's in the kitchen with Dinah, and it's a gigantic pile of stolen candy."
"None of this brings me any closer to understanding what this author wants from any of us. Every which way we are only rankling her."
On parties and events:
Take turns in dancing with one another. Never sit in a corner and wait for that particular long John to ask you. That one particular long John may not notice you and your charms crouched behind the radio table. He will, though, when he sees you do a Lindy Hop with Hank and Frank, and with Moe and Joe.
"How long is John?"
"Am I a long Jean?"
"Nobody puts Baby in a corner, but especially not long John."
"Do you want to go home? If you are hiding behind a radio table, you can just go home."
"What is a radio table?"
"Moe and Joe are sock puppets, right?"
On table manners:
Hold your spoon lightly in your right hand as you would a pencil. Keep the little finger in! Never crook that little finger at any time. There are other things to do with your fingers.
"I mean, gross."
"Other things, like tracing the words 'Help me' into a foggy window."
"What happens if you crook that little finger? What is the consequence?"
"Dementia, I think."
"Who sticks out their pinky when writing? That is only for drinking high tea."
On skincare:
Your complexion is a barometer of your physical habits. Do you drink enough water? Do you eat fresh vegetables every day? How about that fruit juice? Do you let it stand in the glass? Do you take plenty of exercise? What is your average night's rest? Do you make it a point to go to the bathroom at a certain time each day? This is very important!
"Omg it all made sense until the SCHEDULED BATHROOM USE?"
"Is letting your fruit juice stand in a glass good or bad?"
"If you don't let it stand, your finger crooks."
"How much exercise are you allowed to 'take' before it's considered rude?"
"I'm pretty sure 'Your complexion is a barometer of your physical habits' means literally nothing."
"Your complexion is how people can tell if you're a lazy piece of shit, like that girl who wanted to join our crew."
"Can't join this crew. We have legit finger shit to do."
On place-setting:
Learn to set the table without looking in the little book. Dot did. She was a different kind of girl. There was a time when she didn't know how either, but she knew enough to know she didn't know. WHEN A GIRL BEGINS TO REALIZE THERE ARE THINGS TO LEARN, THEN SHE IS ON THE WAY TO BECOMING SMART.
"Dot's like, 'I'm not like other girls.'"
"'I mostly hang out with guys.'"
"Dot's a total nerd who loves games. Super awkward."
"Can I get a copy of the little book?"
"How little is it?"
"We're talking about Mao's Little Red Book, right? Because Dot's a fucking commie."
"I think this is about arrogance, but widespread arrogance among, like, 5-year-old girls is not a problem I've ever heard of."
On keeping clean:
Those skirts—look each one over. Take out the spots with a good cleaner. Follow the directions on the bottle — FOLLOW THE DIRECTIONS, EXPLICITLY— or woe betide you!
"'Woe Betide You!' is Tide's old slogan."
"It's just that the writer believes the stakes to be SO MUCH HIGHER than they are."
"Am I being cursed?"
"Does the detergent witch come murder you?"
"Who the fuck got spots on my skirt? That isn't explained."
"Probably happened when you let your pinkie out and spilled gallons of soup on yourself."
"It's all coming together now."
On shapewear:
Wasn't big Sis a darling to ask you to be her maid of honor? How perfectly elegant! ... That tummy though— it worries Sis a lot. You'll have to walk straight and hold it in when you strut down that aisle. Maybe you had better wear a girdle. Don't make such a face. Girdles aren't that bad. You would for Sis, wouldn't you? ... Yes, you will wear a girdle for Sis, and long stockings— and even one of those awful contraptions she calls a bra. You know you are rather big for twelve, and Sis wants to be proud of you.
"What on Earth is a bra?"
"Omg I'm 12 in this scenario? Relax."
"I love that Sis just KNOWS I'll be strutting down the aisle."
"I'm a class-A strutter."
"Is Sis a psychological embodiment of expectation?"
"Sis is in a cult for sure."
"Would you do anything for Sis? Like a blood sacrifice?"
"You'd kill for Sis, wouldn't you? She'd do it for you."
"You'd marry Sis, right? If Henry left her at the altar. You'd be there to pick up the pieces?"
On self-confidence:
Aren't you lovely? Your hair is glistening with cleanliness and brushings, your eyes sparkle with the full ten hours of shut-eye and love of life, your skin is baby-fresh, your hands are finished products, and your clothes are in style and so, so becoming. You look so perfect — absolutely perfect! "Luscious bunny," you whisper to yourself and wink at the girl in the long mirror. But you can't just stand there the rest of your life. You have to move.
"This one has nothing wrong with it."