Jessica will tell a bitch off if necessary. If you’re caught up in a situation with a dude that makes you extremely uncomfortable, act like: Jessica.(Disclaimer: all of these problems could be solved if anyone in this town knew how to fucking communicate but everyone internalizes everything and they’re all going to die from stress at like 45.) I’m going to take you through some different situations, predicaments, and very, very aggravatingly stupid non-problems some of the characters were faced with, and tell you who you should follow in the footsteps of or do the complete opposite of. However, as we soon learn upon reading Sweet Valley High, sisterhood is complicated, even when you’re perfect. Every male has a “slim athletic build” and there are actual names like “Winston Egbert.” Sweet Valley is like Leave It To Beaver meets Malibu Barbie, where the greatest insult known to man is “jerk” and each day is as sunny as the day before it. They are both described as “dazzling” sixteen-year-olds because who among us was not? Jessica is the sexy, bad-bitch, sociopath whose manipulations gaslight you non-stop through all 189 pages. I knew I would never look like or be the Wakefield twins but god almighty did I want girls similar to the Wakefield twins to like me.Įlizabeth is the beautiful, smart people-pleasing martyr who’s constantly consoling in a very motherly way despite any pain she may actually be experiencing. Thank God at twelve I read through a five-page description of what “perfect” looked like (blonde hair, blue eyes, white but tan, with skinny legs - this is some Aryan BULLSHIT, by the way, Francine Pascal.) I’m sure that was really great for my already failing sense of self-worth. I haven’t read this book since I was twelve, which, thank GOD I read it at that age, the crucial period when you’re trying to gain a shred of confidence and forming lasting opinions on how men should treat women. So, I put off any and all writing of this article until I was all the way finished with Sweet Valley High: Double Love (dun dun dunnnnn) and, oh my God ya’ll, that place is twenty-seven flavors of messed up.
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