Good Support Is Always Needed

You thought this was going to be about bras, didn't you? Ok, so lets talk bras for a few moments. Yes. It's important to have a good supportive bra. And if you find one that's cute too--even better! But we all know--ok, maybe not all of you but all of us larger breasted women know that finding a cute bra that is supportive is near impossible. Either it's supportive and you look like Madonna circa 1991:

 or it's cute and everyone is suddenly calling you Sloppy Tits.

 Like I said, finding a cute supportive bra is near impossible to find.

Disclaimer: Madonna can rock the cone boobies anytime she wants. As a matter of fact, she's the only one who should ever rock them. As for the second photo, that's courtesy of the show Jerseylicious. I didn't want to put the girls face on it to save her, well, face. But if you watch the show, you know who it is. That girl's boobs are always sloppy. And for the record, I love this girl, she brings the drama to the show like no one else.

But that's enough about bras. This post was not supposed to be about bras, cones or sloppy tits. It's about the kind of support every girl (whether you wear a bra or not) needs. I'm talking about the support of other women who support your craziness, your bad habits, your good habits, and who will sit and listen to you for hours if you need to complain about your spouse or kids or the fact that you've had the same hangnail for three days and it hurts too much to cut it off.

Right now, I have three of those kinds of women in my life. I have a lot of good female friends whom I've maintained friendships with throughout the years but these women have been there for me through thick, thin, fat, skinny, crazy and utterly depressed. And I'd like to tell you about them.

First there is Erin. I met Erin, believe it or not, playing World of Warcraft. I used to be a casual/hardcore (read: hardcore but only casually, 3 days a week) raider back in the day and so was Erin. I can't tell you exactly how we became friendly but I imagine it was because one of us made a snarky comment about someone else. Imagine my joy that I found someone as cynical and annoyed as I am! Then, lo and behold I discovered Erin was as big of a whore as I was too. She had her own celebrity crushes and our friendship flourish as we talked about hot guys. Then we talked about our spouses, then my kids, then everything else. Erin is my "rational" friend. She's my PhD friend too. She's working on her PhD right now so I always say she has it, because I know some day soon she will. I know I can count on Erin if I ever need rational insight on raising my kids (her masters is in psychology--I imagine she felt like she hit the jackpot meeting me), or my husband or anything else I might be having issues with at the moment. We'd talk about that, then conversation will always--and I mean always--turn to hot guys. It's the glue that keeps us together. She's my whore and I'm sure if you ask her, she's pretty proud of her whore status.

Then there is Michelle. Gosh, I love this woman! I also met Michelle playing World of Warcraft. But unlike Erin who lives in Southern California, Michelle lives here in Oregon very close to me. And she married to a techy guy... like me. And she has two kids...exactly the same age as mine. And she gets overwelmed with her stay-at-home status... just like me. Everytime we meet up she is wearing an outfit... identical to mine. If I didn't know better, I'd say God made Michelle, forgot to throw away the mold then made me. We are so much alike it's scary. But for some reason, I used to think Michelle was a little too straight-laced for me. My humor is really off-color and sometimes raunchy. There was no way this sweet woman could ever share the same humor as me too. It all changed the night we decided to go to the movies and she said to me "I kind of want to see 'The Hangover.'" I said, "Really? Me too!" and we saw it on a whim. She laughed just as much as I did and I knew I found a kindred spirit. Now, two years later we have pretty much seen every raunchy comedy released along with every girly movie released and I can always count on her to take me away for one night--for just a few hours--and make me forget that my children are actually spawns of the devil.

Last and certainly not least is Marcy. I met Marcy when I was 10 years old and she tried to steal my boyfriend. Or I tried to steal hers... it's all a little hazy. But I distinctly remember sitting on a blue beanbag with him in the middle and me and Marcy flanking him. Sounds weird right? Ok, it is weird. But despite that, the boy moved away later that year and Marcy and I became best friends. And remember in the 5th or 6th grade when you said to your best friend "You're going to be my best friend forever!" Well, with Marcy and I it stuck. We have been best friends FOR-EV-ER. Since those years of sharing boyfriends in the 5th and 6th grade I moved, she moved and we have never lived in the same city again. Our friendship continued with letters through Jr. High and High School. Then phone calls after. Then right after my 21st birthday I drove to her house and saw her for the first time in 10 years. Since then we've been closer then we ever were. Why is all this relavent? Because it is. Because like I said, we've been best friend FOR-EV-ER. Twenty six years after the bean bag incident Marcy and I still talk on the phone daily--several times a day. She knows every detail about my life, I know every detail about hers. She's been there as I cried into the phone because I wanted to run away from my life and give it all up. I was there when she cried into the phone for the same reason. We've talked each other into loosening the death grip on the knife we were clutching because we were going to murder our husbands (it's a metaphor, ya'all, I've never literally held the knife ready to kill. I would be more clean about it. Stabbing someone is messy and I don't want to clean that shit up too.) We've also spent hours upon hours on the phone giggling about the stupidest stuff to the point neither of us could breathe. Marcy is my best friend. She's my family.

Obviously, I love my friends. I don't tell them enough how much I love them--and I tell them all the time. I truly hope other women out there have friends as good as mine. At least one. I'm lucky enough to have three.

I'm going to sign off this post before I get anymore sappy. I think I need to go to iTunes and purchase "That's What Friends Are For" or some other sappy friend song and cry myself a river. Or go to bed and have another shirtless Jake Gyllenhaal dream. Come to think of it, iTunes has enough of my money, I can never have enough Jake Gyllenhaal dreams. If you don't think so, go watch "Love & Other Drugs" and I promise you'll change your mind. That man looks damn good naked.