One Of My Nearest and Dearest

I am really blessed to have many fabulous friends in my life. Most are friends that I've made in the last five years or so, but two of my dearest, closest, if-I-die-please-assume-the-responsibility-of-going-clothes-shopping-with-my-children-because-I'm-not-sure-my-husband-can-handle-it friends are girls that I've known since Kindergarten.

As in Kindergarten, 1978.

And I believe that if you've weathered the fashion and hair trends of the 70s and 80s together you are, in fact, besties for life.

Let me introduce you to one of those friends.

I'd like you to meet Ta-ta. No, that's not her real name. Ta-ta is her nickname because it's the first couple letters of her first name. And that's the official party line.

Okay okay. The nickname really references the fact that she was the first girl in 6th grade to get boobies. Honest to God, no training bra necessary, howitzers. We were all way jealous of her.

* Side note: Ta-ta lived just down the road from a pharmaceutical plant. I think we're all relieved that she only has two, early onset, good sized boobs on her chest and not six furry ones sprouting out of her back. When you grow up downstream from a pharmaceutical manufacturer, anything is possible.


*Side note #2: My other close friend since Kindergarten, nicknamed Banana, is still way jealous of Ta-ta's, well, ta-tas.


Ta-ta has many wonderful and redeeming qualities, but it is her ability to be totally, 100% blunt that I want to discuss. I both love and admire this quality about her. Also, I fear it.

Take jeans shopping for example. It is Ta-ta and her bluntness that I want to go jeans shopping with me. I don't enjoy her hand clapping and gleeful singsonging of 'muffin tops' when I try on a pair of unflattering jeans, but I'd rather hear it from her in the fitting room at Macy's than later on when we're sitting down to dinner at a restaurant. I love the fact that she doesn't want me walking around sporting serious muffin tops, even though I'd rather not discuss my love handles in the three-way mirror at Macy's.

It's not always easy to hear her thoughts, but most of the time she tells me stuff I really needed to hear.

On looking at my new driver's license photo in 1995: It's time to step away from the scrunchie.

On my new fake glasses with the rainbow striped frames: Wow, you're really waving that lesbian flag high today, aren't you?

On my choice of sweater: Dude. Wear a v-neck. Your boobs are way too big to pull off a crew neck.

On some lovely four inch leopard print heels I was contemplating purchasing: Step away from the fugly hooker shoes. They would be perfect for treading the shallow end of the gene pool while trolling for your next baby daddy.

On my husband's physical appearance: You know I've always admired your husband's legs. His legs are the reason I joined the track team in high school. Let me know the next time he wears shorts and does something manly. I want to come over, sit in a lawn chair, and watch those legs in action.

There are several reasons why I adore Ta-ta. Besides the whole blunt thing.

Together her, Banana, and I make one hell of a fine Black Friday shopping crew. Sure she might bitch about my adorable fur lined ear flap hat, but Ta-ta can elbow her way through the crowd at Target and drag me along in her wake while pointing out other, more attractive hat options like nobody's business.

She knows how much I hate to ask for help, so she always jumps in to offer it first. Like when she watched my kids so my husband and I could go to Hawaii to eat shrimp off the back of a truck for our anniversary last year. Hons, that's a true friend.

I like the way she commandeered my little blue 'What are you doing now?' form for our ten year class reunion and filled it out for me, marking my profession down as crack whore. I know this might not sound like a positive, but this incidence (and the fact that I've been referred to as a crack whore for the last ten frigging years) spurred me on to go to my twenty year reunion to set the record straight. For that I am thankful.

Speaking of my reunion, Ta-ta is one of a precious few people who is willing to try on prom dresses with me.

I dig her because she shares my obsession with Diet Cokes from McDonalds, the random texting of Journey lyrics, John Hughes movies, sarcasm, and Old Navy.

Ta-ta immediately understood the gravity of the situation when I told her that my husband of sixteen years told me that he 'was never really a fan of Molly Ringwald'. Her jaw hit the table and she swore off looking at his legs for three weeks. True story.

Like any relationship, there are some things about Ta-ta that I have chosen to overlook. Like when she writes me a check. I hate it when she writes me a check, not because the check has ever bounced, but because she always ALWAYS writes 'for sexual favors' in the memo section. Egads.

Ta-ta calls me when she's on the toilet. The toilet, people. On. The. Pot. I hate that and she knows it. That's why she does it. I can't concentrate on what's she is saying for crying out loud! She's peeing! Waiting for the flush is distracting as all get out.

Perhaps the most damning thing I've chosen to overlook is her completely unnatural lust for Tom Petty.

Tom Petty.

Of the Heartbreakers.

Seriously.

Here is our most recent conversation via text. I think it covers everything.

I hope that all of you have a great friend-for-life like Ta-ta. I'll end this blog post the way she ends most of our conversations. Abruptly.

Gotta go, bye. Click.



Pin It Now!