Friends don’t let friends get ugly. And so it came to pass that I went to M.A.C. with one of my besties as part of an evening honouring our tenth year of friendship.
We looked at stunning glosses and cream sheens, eyeshadow, opulent brushes, plumper and liner. We popped into Godiva and secured chocolate covered strawberries and key lime bon-bon accessories.
We had side-by-side mani-pedis done, taking fifteen minutes to choose just the right colours for one another. We even stopped off afterward to buy new shoes to show off our pretty toes. My pal, let’s call her Charlene, picked out my outfit for the evening; open-toe stiletto heals with cute satin straps, tights with a mini skirt, and my shiny, yet-to-be-worn-still-had-the-tags-on-it-silver-and-black sparkly tank top. My breasts were dazzling. They looked like two disco balls just waiting to break out and boogie.
Charlene picked through my closet and make-up table. She made herself at home with my hair products and flat-iron. She even spritzed on my perfume before we headed out the door. She looked amazing in her blue top, jeans, new shoes and fabulously lush brunette hair.
This make up and primping is the equivalent of men bonding while watching a sporting event together, or tackling handy-man-around the house jobs. These relationships build confidence in our “gender identity” thereby making us confident hunters of our mates. In other words, when gal-pals complement one another on an outfit; shoes, make-up, jewelry selection, it makes them feel like, “Hey. I’m doin’ ok here despite the extra baggage of a few added years”. We don’t really “hunt” mates any more. That’s long gone, with one of us being married, and the other being unlucky in love and a cynical hopeless romantic all that the same time, but we still want to feel desirable.
So we celebrated our tenth year friendship anniversary in the city. We bought the appropriate “tin” gifts to mark our tenth anniversay. Charlene gifted me a child’s mood ring from the shoe store, and I gave her a prized tin cocktail sign. Taking aesthetics institutions and chocolate shops by storm, we dished and giggled like we were kids again, forgetting about work, bills, and old scars. For a few hours we were two carefree girls caught up in ribbons and bows and frilly things.
Watching Charlene giggle and laugh reminded me of a quote from the movie Pirate Radio. Comtemplating the thought of the end of broadcasting from the “pirate” ship, Philip Seymour Hoffman‘s character Harold says, “These are the best days of our lives. It’s a terrible thing to know, but I know it.”
Happy tenth anniversary “Charlene. Your friendship helps keep my fabulous, and don’t I know it.