When I was in middle school back in the day, all I wanted was a pair of Jordache jeans like the cool girls. I longed to be accepted into the clique and thought if I could just have those jeans, maybe they would let me in.

Middle school can tough that way, research suggests as many as 1 in 3 kids is bullied or teased and the numbers are even higher for kids with disabilities.

Even when a group is excluded from "the clique". I asked her why she and her friends didn’t just form their own exclusive club. She didn’t have an answer. I didn’t either, in my experience popularity is elusive. It’s hard to figure out why some kids are in and some kids are out.

Those left-out feelings sometimes invade my adult life. When our youngest child was in Kindergarten, I would often wait with the other parents for the end of school bell to ring. One afternoon, I stood with two moms chatting about school happenings and the weather.

Then one parent turned to other and said, “What are you guys doing on Saturday?” Turning away from me and without changing her volume said, “We were hoping you could come over to play. We love having you and We can talk about plans for the party.”

I felt a gut response, sadness that my kid wasn’t included in this play date but, also a more insidious jolt of jealousy. The same left-out, not quite good enough feeling that nagged me so long ago. A longing to be popular and be included with the cool kids and trend setters. The ones who wear the right clothes and get invited to all the parties.

I reminded myself that these were just two parents trying to fill an empty afternoon. just two kids who enjoy spending time together. They were not more "popular" than us. As we all walked back to our cars, the other moms made cheerfully conversation with us, but the sadness and inadequacy in the pit of my stomach remained.

I was transported back to my junior high school self with the home perm and the wrong jeans. I stewed and fretted as we ran errands, by the time we were finished and got some ice cream the feeling had passed. I was back in the present enjoying the day with my kid. She did not miss the invite, she just enjoyed our day.

Her happiness and confidence (and my lack of it) got me wondering. Why had I had such a visceral response to this benign incident? Why does popularity exist? What makes some kids popular? And how are some kids able to declare themselves beautiful outside the social order?

Research suggests that even though it isn’t always good for us we are hard-wired to seek popularity. I am sure there is some evolutionary reason for this and I find it comforting that the desire to be popular isn’t unique to me. The research examines two types of popularity: likability and status-seeking. One is health, the other toxic. Status-seeking popularity emerges in early adolescence and seems to originate in our more primitive brains. Status seeking kids gain popularity by securing dominance and influence, disparaging others and with aggression. While this may be useful for short term popularity, these adolescents develop into adults who have trouble developing secure relationships and are at increased risk for addiction. Likability, on the other hand, emerges at much younger ages. This healthy form of popularity is exemplified by respecting others, sharing and cooperating, and helping other members of the group to feel good about themselves. Skills that we can teach young children and help them to practice.

I would love to wrap this up with a wonderful story about getting my Jordache jeans or my child getting invited to play with the other kids. Instead, I continue looking for the perfect pair of jeans to secure my spot at the “cool kids’ table” and figuring out how to make her own friends. A few weeks later, when I picked her up, I saw those two girls leaving together holding hands and talking about their playdate. Michelle came running, chasing a scruffy little kid who was wearing a ninja tee-shirt, rainbow unicorn pants and sneakers with sparkly laces. They ran ahead and around each other laughing as I marveled at how they were figuring out on their own how to be friends.