My friends high-five me over 200 year old headstones in decrepit graveyards. My friends take me to decrepit graveyards.
My friends get me to a place where I can let go and cry and laugh at myself for being such a shitty non-crier. They covet my jewelry. And my clothes. And my hair products. And my bags and then they let me give them any and all of those things whenever the hell I feel like it. They tell me I'm beautiful.
They are amazing mothers to all of their children wherever those children may be. They recognize the glory and the magnificent difference in their progeny and they honor those differences like the gifts they are.
My friends adore eating and cooking and cleaning and do so with relish. And they hate to cook and clean and eat and wish there was a pill to take care of all three.
My friends love. They love their men, their women, their lovers and partners and friends.
They talk about sex and shit and periods and migraines and manicures and grey hairs.
My friends remember the movies my kids like and the funny things I say and the bands I like to listen to.
They tell me about new wines they've tried and want me to try and want to know what I've been drinking (everything).
My friends have been with me before I had sex for the first time and shepherded me through the aftermath of unprotected sex at 16, before I took the first punch from an angry, asshole man. They took me as an honored guest through their own personal and exquisite hell and let me greet them on the other side of that odyssey to only be more loving and more wonderful than they ever were before.
My friends were there to see my babies be born and to watch my babies when another one came barreling to earth. They tell me they miss me when I'm not around and know how I feel before I even feel it.
Each one a delectable and unique treat that is always there for me to unwrap and savor just when I need them most.
Take a shot of Tequilla during the 10 second ad and then dance! Dance like your friends are all watching!
My friends get me to a place where I can let go and cry and laugh at myself for being such a shitty non-crier. They covet my jewelry. And my clothes. And my hair products. And my bags and then they let me give them any and all of those things whenever the hell I feel like it. They tell me I'm beautiful.
They are amazing mothers to all of their children wherever those children may be. They recognize the glory and the magnificent difference in their progeny and they honor those differences like the gifts they are.
My friends adore eating and cooking and cleaning and do so with relish. And they hate to cook and clean and eat and wish there was a pill to take care of all three.
My friends love. They love their men, their women, their lovers and partners and friends.
They talk about sex and shit and periods and migraines and manicures and grey hairs.
My friends remember the movies my kids like and the funny things I say and the bands I like to listen to.
They tell me about new wines they've tried and want me to try and want to know what I've been drinking (everything).
My friends have been with me before I had sex for the first time and shepherded me through the aftermath of unprotected sex at 16, before I took the first punch from an angry, asshole man. They took me as an honored guest through their own personal and exquisite hell and let me greet them on the other side of that odyssey to only be more loving and more wonderful than they ever were before.
My friends were there to see my babies be born and to watch my babies when another one came barreling to earth. They tell me they miss me when I'm not around and know how I feel before I even feel it.
Each one a delectable and unique treat that is always there for me to unwrap and savor just when I need them most.
Take a shot of Tequilla during the 10 second ad and then dance! Dance like your friends are all watching!
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