Let's just get it right out there, 'cause I know what you all are thinking…
Side boob, so much of it, displayed at a public arena. And at first, when I bought the getup at Party City and brought it home to try on, I was a tad dismayed. Like seriously. SO MUCH SIDE BOOB. I wasn't sure I could bring myself to pull it off, especially at my hometown airport.
Look. I'm no wuss. I have no problem embarrassing myself. As proven in exhibit A, B, and C. I live by the motto "As long as you can laugh at yourself, you will never cease to be amused." It's pretty hard for an outsider to embarrass me, as no matter what the issue, you can trust I will be laughing just as hard if not harder. I've always had a pretty strong sense of self, and as I get further into my thirties, my DGAF meter is pretty much off the charts. I know I have a circle of strong, solid friends and family in which I would trust with my life, and I know they know the real me and love every part of me (ok fine, so maybe they don't love every part but let's just go with 70/30) and basically everyone else who wants to judge and criticize me... to you, I say, DGAF.
But then I looked in the mirror in my bathroom with the cheap coconut bra from Party City and had a moment of self doubt. Thinking to myself, "self, what will people think? I mean, that's a hell of a lot of side boob. What will parents of little kids think? What will the old geezers think? What will everyone think of me?" And then I sent a selfie to my sister Rachel, who is basically the most mature, responsible, level-headed non-crazy one in our entire extended family and she responded with the following:
"Just do it! It's fun and funny and so many people these days are too uptight and judgmental and don't know how to have any fun and don't let them ruin your spirit and enthusiasm for the so-called unconventional. And besides, your nipples are covered anyway and that's the most important part."
Hells yes, sister dearest, fist bump.
And that's all it took. One little pep talk from one of those solid friends and family I was speaking of and my normal DGAF attitude was back in full force.
And those around me? The ones with children and the elderly? "You have a lot more guts than me" and "that is so freaking awesome" were the statements heard most around our little local airport. My worries were put to ease when I noticed everyone around me loving and applauding and dare I say appreciating my outlandish tactic to welcome a very dear friend to town.
Speaking of that very dear friend, her name is Bre, and I am now going to write an ode to Bre that I have aptly titled:
An Ode To Bre.
I am so happy we met approx. two years ago via the internets. Remember our early Facebook instant message sessions? I do. I still have them all saved. I look at them from time to time whenever I'm bored and Dr. Phil is a rerun. They still make me laugh. Almost as much as our recent #toothfairymoney inside joke does.
You are the rock to my star, The Situation to my Snookie, and the fireball to my mouth.
I could start by thanking you for one million things, but the most important thing I am thankful for is for you introducing me to TinderLines.com. DAMN GINA! Why you gotta mess with my sleep schedule and sex life like that? Ever since I discovered that amazing slice of heaven, the only action happening is my throat going hoarse from laughing so hard and every one of my friends' phones blowing up from massive screen shot text messages. I don't think the acronym LOL is ever as realistic as it is when it comes to me and this monstrosity.
You make me laugh. Not just laugh-laugh, anyone and Jon Gosselin via his Ed Hardy days can do that, but you make a girl laugh. Side clutching, seal clapping, no sound escaping cause I can't get a freaking breath in motha f*cking laugh. It's amazing and rare and incredible and I never want you to stop.
I mean, you also laugh uncontrollably at my hilarious jokes, let's not let that go unsaid.
You've loved me through it all: when I've mistaken lamb for beef, or when I ghosted New Years Eve in Vegas, or when my kids berated you for making a totally lame peanut butter & honey sandwich, or when I ate the last of your JoJos. You've loved me though that egg roll disaster and when I fell into a peaceful sleep not once but twice at my sisters house. Oh and hey, remember that aggressive park ranger at Lake Shasta? Still one of my fave memories to date.
I love that you love me for all my quirks, and I love that you call me out whenever I'm being ridiculous. You definitely don't sugarcoat anything, except maybe your appreciation for my scooter riding skills, and that is exactly what I need in my life.
Hey remember that time the umbrella smacked me in the face when I opened it the wrong way?
Just so you know, my entire family loves you. Like, the entire bunch. You fit in so perfectly and so effortlessly and I honestly think they love you a tad bit more than me. Which would totally chap my ass if it was anyone else but you but since it's not, I'm totally ok with it.
My lips hurt real bad, this boat is still rocking, that scuba-diving hoe, Shaunie, Joshy and Ravey, Rob has a song request, Brenda Bauer, dancing twins, look at that genuine smile and "why don't you just bang Rob!" are a million of our inside jokes we will have for the rest of our lives. Oh, that and #rightswipe.
What I'm really trying to say, is I just love you. You are a true and amazing friend with some serious burping skills. You make my life better and you have amazing boobs.
Two last things before my ode is done…
1) Not coke but…
2) TOOTH FAIRY MONEY!
36 more sleeps!