Good Friends Are Hard To Find

This morning I was standing in line at Duchess Bake Shop trying to take a picture of my new Berg & Betts watch against all the delicious pastries in the background. I wanted to show the world this black and gold beauty on my wrist because my upcoming 12 Days of Giveaways is making me vibrate with excitement. When I asked Jessie, the founder of Berg & Betts, if she would partner with me to give one of you lucky people a watch, she surprised me by sending two. This is the very first thing I've ever received as a blogger so, trying to be the good blogger I am, I took two pictures and texted them to a couple of my closest friends, asking which one I should choose. 

"I don't really like either of them" my best friend said. 

I looked at the pictures again. I kind of agreed; they were basically the same shot. Who was I kidding anyways? I usually care about my Instagram photos deeply for about 10 seconds until I realize that while I was debating if I should add +1 or +2 of exposure to the photo my kids have completely destroyed my house and are playing in the toilet like it's a sensory bin. Besides, it's just an Instagram post and even though it would be fun to sit in this beautiful bakery eating my photo-worthy quiche while I leisurely set up shot after shot of a sparkly new watch, l see my toddler run past me in the corner of my eye and I turn around just in time to watch him shove his croissant into the free public library box and I know that my level of caring about these two nearly identical photos has just lowered from a 10 to a 1.

See? My life is very riveting. You can tell that I tried super hard, right? Spoiler Alert: I posted the first one.

Then my darling friend texts me this:

First of all:

Yes, I do have a group conversation called the Bang Ass Bitches. Alas, that story is for another day. 

Secondly:

The real reason my friend felt weird about the photo is because of my "unruly" arm hair.  This particular gal and I have been friends since we were 12; that is exactly 20 years of friendship right there. I felt offended when I read that text; not because she thought my hair was distracting in the picture, but because she hadn't noticed my insane arm hair before. I mean, how can I be sure she loves me when she doesn't even know that my arm hair is at least 1.5 inches long? I remember being in middle school and asking other people to roll the dice or move my board game pieces for me because I didn't want to reach my hand out in the middle for all to see.

After laughing at my two blonde friends who are basically like hairless cats; asshole hairless cats, at that. I felt good. I knew right then and there that these jerks had my back. I knew that when I'm in a coma in the hospital they will come and pluck my chin hairs because that shit matters. I know that they will tell me the cold hard truth when it matters; like when dry shampoo isn't cutting it anymore or when I try to be a big girl and do my own eye make-up. I know they will protect me from hairy embarrassments and that they always have my best at heart. I bet if they were with me this morning, they would have offered up their own wrist in a humble act of true love. I love my jerky blonde friends and I wish them a life full of hairless selfies; God knows I grow enough for the three of us.