On friends, chickens and otherwise (Entry #2)...

Every girl has a girlfriend. Or in my case, 4 or 5.

I'm not talking about co-workers, associates, surface friends, "going-out" friends, "be-seen-with" friends, your significant other's friends, Facebook friends...I mean those girlfriends with whom you have a true bond, with whom you have signed a golden, silent pact, with whom your spirit and secrets are safe. They come along only a few times in a lifetime and are a cherished piece of who we are, how we grow, how we see ourselves and how we see the world.

One of these very girls of mine is about to be married to the love of her life and cannot wait to share this monumental beginning of her future with her friends. However, in the past week, a certain childhood "friend" of hers felt miffed over a trivial thing and, in classic cowardly fashion, sent a long e-mail to her, detailing her true feelings and, unfortunately, her true colors, irreversibly hurting my girl with the kind of blows that only females can deal through words. Needless to say, that friendship has ended.

This reminded me that no matter what women say about not needing other women (I myself have been guilty of this in the past), the good ones make our lives fuller, more meaningful and more complete. So, just in case you haven't yet realized or perhaps have forgotten, here is how you recognize the great ones:

They can make you laugh as easily about someone's horrible outfit as they can about your crappy day. They can whip out an inside joke at the most opportune times to embarrass you. Their nicknames for you are incredibly vulgar, which signifies how much they love you.

They defend your honor, your reputation, your reasoning and your style fiercely to anyone who dares question them. They have a dirty look ready for an ex-boyfriend, an ex-boyfriend's girlfriend, or an ex-boyfriend's girlfriend's friend. They will Facebook-stalk for you. They will lend you money, clothes, lipgloss, sale coupons, pirated music, time, space, the universe if they had it and most likely never ask for it back. They will physically fight someone for you (or at least threaten it very convincingly).

They refuse to let you take yourself too seriously. They refuse to let you put yourself down. They care as much about your family members as they do about you, even if they've never met them. They will always be there no matter how little or how much you call. They share your highs and your lows, cheering you on and wiping your tears.

They don't envy you. They tell you the truth, whether you ask for it or not (including being honest about looking fat in those jeans). They think about you when you're not around. They want you to succeed. They want you to be happy. They want you to be loved. They don't believe anyone's really good enough for you, even though they don't say it. They think you're the best, most beautiful, talented, brilliant woman ever on the planet, damn it!

See? You do have them! And if you haven't found her (or them) yet, don't worry - they'll find you. Mine did.

So her boobs are bigger...

What is it about women competing with other women? Whether it's the new girl that just started work at the office or a girlfriend you've known for years, something inside us begins to turn its wheels. At its best, it can be wonderful. Those women become mentors, examples to follow, pushing us to become more than what we are. At its worst, it can be deadly. We become unspoken enemies of people that could very well have been our friends.

If jealousy and competitiveness don't rear their ugly heads outright, they definitely exist inside our heads, creating a constant conversation with ourselves, our brains churning out private thoughts that if said aloud, would paint a very different picture of who we are.

Once we meet another woman, like an internal calculator, so begins the flow of self-analysis. If you're like most of us, it goes something like this…

Oh, she's really pretty. Well, she's probably high-maintenance. Those are really nice shoes. I'll bet she paid way too much for them and had to run up her credit card just to buy them. She just got promoted? Oh, she's an a-kisser and takes credit for everyone else's work anyway. She's really thin. Wouldn't surprise me if she spends all her time at the gym and doesn't have a life. She got her drinks paid for all night? Must be a skank. I mean, her boobs are huge...

Upon first glance, this may scare the bejesus out of the guys who are reading this. It all sounds like women just being bitches. And a lot of the time, they actually just are. However, this is also some insight into how many women think, what they notice, what's important to them and how many personal battles they wage not only with those around them, but also with themselves.

In truth, the petty thoughts belie the comparisons that inevitably come next…

She has her life together more than me. People like to hang out with her more. Guys pay more attention to her. Her relationship is more romantic than mine. She's more sexy, stylish, smart, talented, charismatic, funny, popular (insert whatever adjective is important to you here).

What's important to realize is that this comes from somewhere deeper, somewhere that is devoid of ego or self-centeredness, somewhere that is the core of where we doubt ourselves. In fact, these constant comparisons can, and often do, turn toxic. It all begins to boil down into a thought that is much simpler yet much more damaging…

She's better than me. Therefore, I have failed…

We all want many of the same things: love, money, health, recognition, good looks, a great career, a supportive family, true friends, security, adventure, what have you…yet somehow, that doesn't translate into us banding together to reach these goals but rather, into competing to be on top, out in front.

I don't pretend to have the answer to changing the nature of woman or to have the antidote to self-abusive thoughts. I also don't believe that women will ever stop competing with one another. However, I do know that seeing another woman succeed should do two things: inspire you to change the things you want to about yourself and make you appreciate those things about you that she's secretly wishing she had.

Keep on running the race, but against yourself this time. You'll always come out better in the end. Even if her boobs are bigger than yours. Everyone knows it's easier to go for a run when they're smaller anyway...

On friends, chickens and otherwise...

It is with unfailing humility that I write this entry because after all of the self-centeredness and self-indulgence that I have allowed to happen over the past few months, and after I have washed off all the mud and finally peeked out from under the covers, those true, unfaltering friends are still there.

They are like a family, really. A family that knows you perhaps better than your own. They can see your facial expressions and hear your voice through your e-mails and your text messages, even when you insist that everything is OK.

They understand why a "little" thing is actually a "big" thing. They know exactly why you are happy, why you are sad, why you love someone and why you hate the next. They will tell you what you need to hear, because whether you want it from them or not, it's for your own good. They join your hurts by not holding back their own tears and they share in your joys by laughing right along with you.

They are there with their confidence in you, with their trust in you as a strong, intelligent woman, with their unwavering (even if undeserved) faith in the quality of your character and your heart, with their no-holds-barred, devil's advocate questions and with their sound, thought-out advice, given freely and without pretense, that can only come from true experience...

What I have discovered in real friends is their instinct to first protect you - your feelings, your pride, your reputation, your sanity – to shield you with all the weapons in their arsenals…and then find it in their love for you and in their belief in you as a person to let you make your own decisions, whether they are for the better or for the worse.

If it's the former, they are your cheerleaders and your platform on which to scream your victory. If it's the latter, well, they are the hands that pick you up off the floor, take that drink out of your hand, hold you steady and bring you back.

To be blessed with friends like these is to have experienced one of the reasons why life is worth living. I only wish that it wouldn't have taken me so long to figure that out.