Have I mentioned before that I am a walking contradiction? …A girly girl, but a sports girl, too? I believe I called myself “competitive to a fault,” which is true. Maybe an example will help for illustrating purposes: if there were two bugs on the sidewalk, I’d put money on the one on the left and challenge you that my bug was gonna beat yours to that crack over there. Why? Well, why not? Because my bug will win and it turns an ordinary moment of watching bugs into an event (which I’ll admit I have no clue when this would ever happen, and it’s all completely ridiculous but that’s the point; I compete over the most ridiculous things for the sake of winning and mere competition).
See, I have an older brother, and growing up, he played football… no that’s an understatement; he lived football. From the age of five, I was cheering for his teams so much that to know him or be close to him at all I felt it was a necessity to understand the game. (Hey, don’t judge–cheerleaders have an awesome view of the game! Check out my photo of me college cheerleading all bright-eyed.) I can tell you the difference between a nickel and a dime defense. I will dive to catch the ball unconcerned with my physical well-being, let alone a thought to my nails, hair, or makeup! My motto is “I came to the park to play!” If you open my trunk right now you will find extra water, a soccer ball, basketball, volleyball, and football because I’m one of those moms!
That being shared with the world may dash my already slim-to-none chances with the Princeton-educated Wentworth, whom I have yet to read is much into an impromptu game of tackle football in the mud… I’m not usually in the center of a group of women being filled in on the latest Housewives gossip ’cause … how can I put this… well, I – DON’T – CARE! I don’t. I care more about the scores from the games because I talk all kinds of trash online in my Fantasy Football league and I wanna know how my teams did this week and how embarrassed I’m gonna be and if I have earned bragging rights this week or not! I care about that–A LOT! And not which rose went to which Real “little gossip liar” Housewife!
So, my girlfriends are few, I’ll admit that. I’m one of those kind of girls that has just a handful of best friends that I can trust and confide in. This weekend I had sushi with my best friend from Vegas. She has seven brothers and is a guys gal, too. We met in college; she was my maid of honor and looks like she walked right off the pages of Vogue. A petite beauty with a heart of gold; always warm and non judgemental. (Unless we are talking about the fashion of a certain group of women from an area of town that wear these turtlenecks with squirrels on them. We still have no idea what they are thinking!)
She has been blessed with three beautiful children she adores; another “Mom on the Move.” We laugh, we cry, we shop, and have literally grown up together. She was there when I took that silly photo as a college cheerleader and is still my friend twenty years later. We don’t text 100 times a day or plaster each other all over Facebook… in fact, she doesn’t even have a Facebook profile! Seriously, she doesn’t. That’s part of her uber charm. But we have joked around about buying houses on the same street, and there goes that neighborhood!
She’s a Chanel purse of a friend, always and forever; they never go out of style. They keep their value and are straight class. I’ve had friends that were there for a time, like a trendy bag, for a season. I was “the new thing” and now they don’t return my calls. And although I am grateful for the friendship, I’m so last season! And then there are friends that may be there much longer, but because of distance and life, you move on to new styles and grow apart into a new look that’s all your own. You outgrow looks, styles change and you don’t fit each other any more and that’s ok. But this “Vegas friend”–she’ll always be my friend, no matter what happens in my life or hers; Chanel has a lifetime warranty, you know. It’s about the quality, not the quantity, so I have two Chanel purses, one bag and one WOC. I feel that’s more than enough in my wardrobe, even for a fashion writer, because like most fashionistas, I can spot an authentic Chanel bag from 100 yards away and when it’s a Chanel, girlfriend, trust me–they’re quality friends. It’s gonna be forever. Unfortunately, the fake friends are a lot harder to spot. If you have at least one Chanel girlfriend, the two of you are ready to rock the runway together (unless you are wearing a turtleneck with a squirrel on it–then we need to talk).