the rat race to grow up
and reconnecting with my inner Lisa Simpson
As a teenager, I owned a box set of various seasons of The Simpsons, somewhere between season 10 and 15… maybe it was closer to 20. I’ll admit that the series has lost some of its charm in more recent years, but it’s still one of my favorite things. Unlike a lot of other adult animated shows (say, Family Guy or even Futurama, also created by Matt Groening), The Simpsons feels innocent and, thereby, nostalgic. I love the town of Springfield and all its colorful characters, and how you never know who the plot will revolve around next. Episodes often end with a lesson of some kind, which appeals deeply to my inner child. Yet, not many people that know me know that I’m a fan of the show. I think it’s because most people tend to have negative opinions towards the show, often calling it played out. Which is ironic because that’s exactly what this piece is about: rejecting the status quo for the sake of self-preservation.
Recently, I got to rewatch, and re-experience, some of my boxset episodes during a flight. I should have recognized the first episode I watch immediately by its title: “Lard of the Dance.” It’s an episode that’s memorable for its novel absurdity, the one where Homer gets into the literal grease business. That is, he effectively starts siphoning grease traps in commercial kitchens (e.g., fast food chains, the school cafeteria) so that he can sell it to companies that make products of grease. Rewatching the episode, though, I realized that I had literally lost the plot the first time.
This particular episode actually revolve arounds Lisa and (for a lack of a better word) her struggle with girlhood. In the episode, Lisa befriends Alex,1 a new girl at school, who acts older than her eight-year-old peers, depicted by her cellphone, purse, and Calvin Klein perfume. Naturally, Alex influences the other eight-year-old girls in Springfield to act older as well. She also convinces the elementary school to throw their first ever dance and, subsequently, many first dates.
Lisa, on the other hand, has a hard time accepting that she’s old enough for “fashion and makeup and dating,” which is understandable even by today’s standards. She even goes as far as going full glam in an attempt to get one of the boys to ask her to the dance. Unable to secure a date, she instead agrees to work the ticket counter outside the dance, feeling defeated. When she does finally go inside, she realizes that the dance has been a flop. Although most of the kids have dates, the boys and girls are gathered on opposite ends of the room, afraid of the other species. Alex runs up to Lisa, confused as to why the boys and girls are “acting like a bunch of kids.” In that moment, Lisa laughs over the realization that she’s been right all along. The episode ends with Lisa throwing a grease ball at Alex, telling her to “act her age,” after Homer’s grease supply somehow ends up flooding the dance, in perfect Simpsons fashion.
I’m not sure how I glossed over so many of these details when I first watched this episode as an adolescent. It parallels with so many of the experiences I had growing up, that I wonder if not relating with them was a defense mechanism. To this day, I distinctly remember a girl in the fourth grade telling me that my tastes were “too babyish.” In hindsight, it makes sense. I’ve always been a late bloomer, one of the last girls I know to get her period. Albeit I was only 13, but still late compared to the girls in health class.
“The other girls are already into fashion and makeup and dating. They make me feel like a little baby.”
I grew up not feeling conventionally attractive, so when I was 14, I tried to pressure a boy I liked into asking me out on Valentine’s Day. By not growing up as fast as my peers, I, too, was Lisa Simpsons in high heels and a little black dress. I knew I liked the things that I liked, but said and did other things out of desperation to fit in. And it’s breaks my heart looking back because I wish I had embraced who I was and accepted my own developmental pace. Not to mention, that was the era in which I switched schools four times in three years, and my hobbies and interests were one of the only constants in my life. Yes, I had to make new friends every time I changed schools, but I did not need to hide the fact that one of my favorite things to do was make clothes for my dolls. Heck, I kinda wish I still was.
“What do you guys, like, do for fun?”
“Well, you'll definitely wanna get yourself a good doll.”
Suffice to say, the eccentric little hobbies and interests you have when you’re young make you who you are. And everyone develops differently. The lesson of S10E1 of The Simpsons need not apply only in an elementary school setting, but far beyond. Your individuality is what gives your life meaning, and you do yourself a great injustice every time you let societal expectations take that away from you. No one knows where you’ve been and what you’ve been through. In my case, it was four schools in three years—during what I consider my peak development years. So, if I had to stitch a few scraps of fabric together to cloth a doll to survive, then so be it.
Fun fact: Alex is voiced by Lisa Kudrow and her first piece of dialogue is great:
“You're name's Lisa? Shut up! I love that name!”
“Did she just tell me to shut up?”
“Don't be such a Phoebe!”
Very relatable and well written!
Really interesting investigation of Simpsons. I think this also parallels today's youth where they are pressured to dress and act like they're in their 20s, forcing children to grow up because it's more profitable.