Sooooo...if any of you know me at ALL, you'd know that I do NOT wear my heart on my sleeve. Like, AT ALL. To actually witness a physical tear run down my face, is basically next to IMPOSSIBLE. Don't get me wrong...I DO cry...quite a lot actually. I've listed these certain instances for you below (in no particular order).
1. I'm drunk. Not just a little buzz drunk. More like a "this chick just got served 6 lemon-drop martinis, hit 4 walls on the way to the bathroom, and pissed all over her shoes" kind of wasted.
2. I'm giving birth...to Ella...and screaming my face off...for 4 hours...without an epidural.
3. I'm in the shower. This is where I usually make up some crazy ass stupid scenarios that make no god damned sense, and then I begin to discuss them with the other imaginary person in the shower, which just HAPPENS to be myself. So, yeah...this is where I have full on conversations...with myself...and then cry.
4. I'm premenstrual, and watching a Sarah McLachlan commercial...or a Budweiser clydesdale commercial...or a commercial with a baby. Awwwww...hell, when I'm in this state, I'll cry through a commercial about a banana.
So, yeah. Meghan...opening the flood gates...not happening. UNTIL...
My Nikkita invited me over to open my birthday present. Now, it's ONE thing that this woman, with 4 boys, a full time job, and the most asinine baseball/soccer/modeling schedule, would even take the time to get me a gift. But...it is QUITE another, when she puts every ounce of her heart into it.
I mean...just look at that wrap job.
This is where shit got real. She hands me this heavy as all hell gift, and says...
"It's super cheesy. No big deal at all."
I can tell they were books. I'm thinking, in my head...
"WTF, this bitch KNOWS I don't read books. Chelsea Handler hasn't written 10 pounds in books, so it can't be that. And unless it's 4 "I Heart My Little A-Hole" books, I'm not interested.
Moving along. This is what I discover after tearing it open...
Yearbooks, right? Big deal. NO!!! These were MY yearbooks. I lost the originals in a basement flood, 18 years ago.
Cue hysterical "Girl scout's brand new puppy got hit by a car" kind of tears.
She broke me.
And she breaks me time and time again just thinking about how thoughtful and amazing she is to me. I know I'm always yammering about how ridiculously inappropriate we are to one another, but MAN...she's one AMAZING bitch.
Here's a little task to all of my lady/guy friends...
Share this. Tag a Bestie, and tell the world something amazingly thoughtful about her/him.