For My Friend Mrs. Renner

This morning a friend is on my mind. It's because I'm wearing this awesome belt. It's purely for aesthetic purposes, because it doesn't matter how tight I cinch it, my pants still fall down. And then there's butt-crack. A heck of a lot of butt-crack.

But this post isn't about my arse, its cracks or cheeks. I mean, I'd seriously have to be hard up for material to blog about my rump. And who would read it? Someone seriously hard up for reading materials. 

No. This is about my friend. Who just so happens to have given me the out-of-this-world belt I'm wearing. For this wee blog, I'm going to call her Mrs. Renner. Sure, none of you will understand why that's funny, but she will. Don't you hate inside jokes that leave you out of the loop? Yeah. Me too. But in this case, I'm so far in the loop it isn't funny. And I don't care that you're outside of it.

Well, Mrs. Renner has a bit of a problem. She doesn't know how awesome she is. How sad!

As I was driving to work and my massive belt buckle was digging into my crotch because I was sitting at an odd angle, I got to thinking about her. You see, I'm ever-so thankful to have her in my life. Not only is she almost as sick and twisted as me, but she gets it. Life. And how it's not always fairy-tales and roses and sunshine and sweetness. Like me, she also attended the school of hard-knocks and came out on the other side alive and relatively well-adjusted, albeit a bit disenchanted with mankind, but laughing none-the-less. She's a fighter. Unfortunately, she's a worrier as well. And sometimes life's not so awesomeness can get her down, have her questioning who she is and what she's doing.

It makes me sad that she doesn't understand how fantastic she is. Because she truly is one of my most favourite people. She's not just a friend - she's family. In so many ways, she's like the female version of me. Oh, wait. That came out wrong. She's like a clone of me. Her wildly inappropriate sense of humour parallels mine and, shockingly enough, sometimes surpasses mine. Hard to believe, I know.

She's the type of girl who will cut off her arm for her dog, get excited about silly things like Marky Mark movies and Mexican food, and text you four times when you're on a road-trip to make sure you haven't been trafficked. Or, if you have been sold into the sex trade, that the guy got a good price for you. She's that girl. The one everyone loves because she's simply delightful to be around. The girl with amazing hair, perfect eyebrows, gorgeous eyes and the cutest bum in the world. No, seriously. It's so grabbable it isn't even funny.

And she's clueless to her perfection.

I get it. In reality, we are all a lot like my friend Mrs. Renner. Most of us don't see ourselves the way others do. We are our own worst enemies, battling our reflections and flaws and idiosyncrasies. Except it's such a colossal waste of time to fight ourselves like this, because our perceptions are skewed. This reminds me of that weird Baz Lurhmann song Everybody's Free To Wear Sunscreen. Not sure why. Probably because it says, "You're not as fat as you think you are." And I don't know a woman alive who can't relate to that.

Anyway, back to Mrs. Renner and her fantasticness...

Sometimes people do things you will never forget. When I was down and out, she put her arm around me and accepted me as her sister-wife. (Another inside joke) For that, I will always be in her debt. No matter what happens over time. No matter if our paths split apart (so not going to happen). No matter if we get into a huge fight and call each other names on Jerry Springer. I will owe her for simply being my friend. For showing me love when I didn't think anyone could ever possibly love me.

And for making me laugh. Every day. Without fail. You can't put a price on that. Never.

She is awesome, amazing, and astounding. All I want is for her to know that. To accept it. And to walk this earth knowing if I was a lesbian I'd be all up in her grill. Sadly, I don't do taco. Still, I think we'd make the perfect couple.

Oh, and because you probably don't believe me on how awesome my belt is. Here's proof: