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Category Archives: Hot Mess

I’m only running for the pancakes.

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Please think of me on Sunday morning, when I’m hauling my sleepy ass from my cozy bed at 4am. Why would I wake up at o-dark-GIVEMECOFFEE-thirty? Oh, just to go run a half marathon. Voluntarily, mind you.

Damn, I’ve come a long way in a year.  This used to be my attitude towards running:

phoebe

And then, I had to go and get all motivated to get healthy. Silly me.

This whole running thing started when my big brother convinced me to run a 5K in April of last year. That was my first 5K since ohhhhh, 1997. I’d just started working with a trainer and was maybe 3 weeks smoke-free. Yay me, but my lungs and my body were still utterly shit a far cry from healthy.

I was SO SLOW. Hated every second of it. I was exhausted after 2 miles. At 2.5 I remember that my face was on fire and just wanted it to be OVER already. I mean, my linebacker-sized brother and my 8 year old nephew were both WAY far ahead of me if not already done. And it was starting to rain, and WHAT THE FUCK is this hill doing right before the finish line? It sucked. My time was something embarrassing… my brother finished in 32, my nephew in 34 and me? 38 something. Or more. I don’t know, I blocked it out.

But since then, I ditched the trainer and the globo-gym, started and stuck with CrossFit, kept my diet clean and healthy and Paleo-ish. I’ve put on muscle, remained a non-smoker, and have tackled a few other runs since then. They got better. I got better. So I did a few more 5Ks, a 10K in July,  a relay in a tutu!, a 15K in January, and now… a half marathon.

Yep, this weekend I’ll be tromping through Atlanta for 13.1 miles until I either a) reach the finish line or b) have to be scraped off the pavement with a pooper-scooper. Hopefully not c) both.

survived

My only goal. Finish.

Is this ambitious progress in under a year? Uhhhhh… I’m either the most motivated amateur runner ever or I’m just flat-out DUMB. But I really think I can do it. My body is in the best shape of my life, thanks to CrossFit, yoga and running. But my concern with the half is my endurance. I’ve never run that far or that long at once and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared. I thought about joining one of the free pacing groups they offer, but I think I’ll do better going at my own speed with my running playlist blasting in my ears.

I have my trusty Brooks Ghosts that I wore for the 15K, so they’re broken in. I’ll be hydrated and fueled beforehand. I’ll get enough sleep the night before. It will be warm but not hot: high 50s are the low that morning, creeping up to 70 by mid-day, so extra layers won’t be needed.

As for the run, all I can think to do is adopt my approach to the 15K – running an easy pace for 2 miles, have a few sips of water and 1-2 energy beans, then repeat until done. That plan kept my pace steady and the 9.something miles were very doable. I didn’t feel like I ran out of gas anywhere along the route. I was a little stiff for a day afterward, but it really wasn’t awful. Why wouldn’t 13.1 be as doable? At least… that’s the theory.

Hopefully I’ll run with grace and elegance, and not like this:

bassets

But even if I finish dead last, there will be none of this.


Jlaw

Because you best believe that afterward there will be piles upon piles of pancakes and pints and pints of BEER for St.Patty’s!  Pancakes make me sooooo happy.

Finally, I’m way grateful that I’ll have excellent company for the race in the lovely Bertie: a gorgeous Crossfit badass,  running inspiration, yoga buddy, brunch/coffee partner and fashion advisor.  That last one? Seriously, she should have a fashion blog. Like, yesterday. 🙂 But on race days, her self-proclaimed propensity to run like her favorite hashtag cracks me up: #wilddogontheloose.

As if keeping me motivated to run and preventing me from dressing like a homeless person wasn’t enough, Bertie gave me the coolest good luck gift for the half. My very own Lululemon Bang Buster in a gorgeous reversible minty-polka-dot/kelly green!  Check out the awesome card she gave me, too… snifffff…. she is the most thoughtful, sweetest friend ever.

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no pinching allowed!

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polka dots and shamrocks

That minty fresh baby will be worn on race day as my good luck charm, my green for St. Patty’s, and to keep my *#)&%#@*ing bangs off my face while I run. Not that I’m salty about the bangs… Wait. I am. Don’t get bangs, people. Not if you work out all the time. Better choices have been made, Peach.

But can y’all help a girl out?!

What say you,  fellow runners and athletes? Do you have any advice for me, the half-newbie? (Newbie-halfer? Newfer? Halfbie? What do you call me?)  Am I crazy? 

…don’t answer that last one.

I don’t trip up the stairs while collecting an Oscar, but I do drop shit.

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Has anyone ever fallen so elegantly? EVER? I think not. Stop saying shit about my GirlCrush.

jennifer-lawrence-falls

Moving on. But I’ve still got my eye on you.

A few posts ago I wrote about my fat ass FoodWars and my evolved attitude towards Paleo vs. Clean Eating. Fortunately I can report that clean eating is working WAY better for me. I’m happy. And when momma’s happy, everybody’s happy.

I still cook all of my staples and I’m forever on the lookout for new recipes to try. For instance, Peach’s Vegetable Saute is always awesome.

saute

But it’s fun to experiment with new mini-quiche flavor combos.

quicheWM

Bacon and Veggie Mini-Quiches

  • 2 whole cage-free, organic eggs*
  • 3/4C egg whites (approx 4 egg whites)
  • 1/4 sweet onion, diced
  • 1/2 red bell pepper, diced
  • 1 small zucchini
  • 1 small yellow squash
  • heaping handful of baby spinach
  • 6-8 slices of COOKED bacon
  • sea salt and black pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 350. Cook the bacon in a large skillet. Reserve a little of the grease for greasing the muffin pan. Whisk all your eggs in a big bowl. In a food processor throw in the onion, pepper, squash, zucchini and process until finely chopped but not liquified.  Add this mixture to your eggs.  Put spinach into the processor and finely chop and also add to your eggs. Mix the egg mixture well and using a 1/4 measuring cup, fill the greased muffin pan. This recipe makes one 12-muffin pan.  Bake for 20-25 minutes or until the eggs are set in the middle.  *You can use 6 whole eggs, or all egg whites, or any combo of whole/whites you wish.

Oh, and here’s what happens when I have a klutz moment – I bring salad fixings to a gathering and when I try to leave with the uneaten, wind up with 3 pounds of spring mix lettuce in my tote bag. Transportation FAIL. I swear I only had 2 glasses of wine. Sheesh. At least my aim is awesome. JLaw, I am not.

have roughage, will travel.

have roughage, will travel.

My workout routine hasn’t changed: 1 or 2 short runs, 1 day of yoga and CrossFit 3-4 times a week. I take my rest days when my body tells me to, and even when it doesn’t.

p.s. – Lululemon is the devil. I have NO willpower.

luluWM

in my defense, I’ve lusted after this jacket since December. And it was on sale. And I LOVE IT.

I’ve resisted the invasion of the tiny humans bearing crack-in-a-box-Thin-Mints.

girlscoutsWM

avoid all eye contact. keep walking.

But instead, I made (and sampled) my own cookies. Sorry, no recipe for these… the owner would hunt me down and noogie me to death.

cookiesWM

All these sweets, just in time for my CrossFit gym to do a 30-day Ladies-Only Challenge! All of us participating were weighed and had our body fat measured with calipers on day 1. Then we all had to do the baseline WOD, which we will do again in 30 days to see our progress.  Some of the ladies are doing strict 100% Paleo. I would not be one of those ladies, but I am going to make an effort to continue clean eating and sweets/booze only in moderation. Peach is going to be lean and mean, dammit!

wodWM

I was shocked to hit a personal best with my deadlift that day! Yay, me! But I’m not going to lie, this WOD had me wheezing, gasping, cramping and wishing burpees would go straight to fucking hell. It sucked, but I got three rounds plus 10 cleans. And then I played “dead starfish”and made a “sweat angel”. Gross. But cool.  But gross. Kinda.

angelWM

So tell me:

What diets/eating styles work best for you/your body? What’s your “food philosophy”?

Feelin’ the love!

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I was thoroughly surprised this week to be awarded not one, but TWO bloggy awards!

leibster

One Lovely Blog

First, Kathleen at Michigan Left surprised me with a Liebster award, and then Kristin over at Kristin Has Two Eyes has bestowed upon me the One Lovely Blogger honor!

I have lovingly placed these badges in my sidebar and send mucho love and sloppy kisses to Kathleen and Kristin. Next up, as part of these awards, y’all get to learn some fun facts about Peach. Lucky you. 😉

Kathleen’s questions to her Liebster recipients:

  1. Where would you live if you could pick any place in the world? I want to say Italy, but I haven’t been there yet!
  2. What is your favorite CD and why? I can listen to Mumford & Sons all day, every day. Their words hit me smack in the heart.
  3. Why and when did you start blogging? 2005, for no reason other than I love to write.
  4. Were you a jock or a nerd in high school? Both. Band nerd, academic nerd and soccer player. Overachiever, much?
  5. Who, besides your significant other, knows you better than anyone else? My undergrad college roommate. She and I were born 22 hours apart. We speak without speaking and know each others’ moods/quirks like our own…because they’re the same.
  6. What book most influenced your life? The Agony and the Ecstasy – Michelangelo’s story by Irving Stone.
  7. What is your biggest fear? Failure.
  8. What is your dream profession? Earning a living as a writer. Somehow. Some way.
  9. What attracts you most to someone?  Humor! Make me laugh and you’ll have my heart.
  10. Beatles or Stones? Oh, Beatles.

And 15 random factoids about Peach, for Kristin:

  1. I hate vinegar. Anything vinegar-based, pickled or fermented, no thank you! Ick.
  2. When I was much younger I wanted to be a veterinarian. Even though I am happy today, I still wonder “what if” sometimes. Oh, to give my 18yo self the confidence I have now…
  3. In dating, I’ve found that my height is an effective method of weeding out insecure men.
  4. I have a dimple. Just one.
  5. I have never broken a bone, needed surgery or stayed overnight in the hospital. Knock on ALL OF THE WOODS.
  6. To fall asleep I need total darkness. And I cannot nap during the day, no matter how tired I may be.
  7. I am a classically trained musician, but that is not what I “do” anymore.
  8. A challenge is my biggest motivator. Tell me I can’t do something, so I can prove you wrong.
  9. There lies a mean temper under this sassy and fun demeanor.
  10. My college debt is still bigger than yours. I guarantee it.
  11. My first car was a big ole honkin’ truck.
  12. Sheets with thread counts under 600 need not apply. 1000 is preferable.
  13. I talk in my sleep.
  14. I despise being told that I’m ‘too sensitive’. No, you’re just being an asshole. Don’t invalidate my feelings. (also see #9)
  15. I am hyper-observant. I notice even the smallest of the most inconsequential details. It freaks some people out. 🙂

Thank you again, Kristin and Kathleen! Have a great weekend, everyone.

Sequins to Nikes

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treeWM

A New Year’s Eve unlike 2012. That was my only requirement. I couldn’t bear another colossal stroke-of-midnight letdown this year.

I remember that the ballroom was filled to capacity and the cover band was screaming Prince’s “1999”. I was booty-shaking away, thanks to the horrifically bad bottom-shelf vodka/crans that also made me ignorant of the fact that my stilettos were shredding the skin off the top of my pinky toes. It had been a great evening so far, with pre-gaming in the hotel rooms upstairs and the ever-female three hour ritual of group beautification. A forgotten strapless bra panic had been remedied by hacking off the straps of a push-up bra. Price tags were ripped violently off flashy new garments. We crammed ourselves into the bathroom and expertly applied eyeliner and falsies. And me, I couldn’t believe I’d let my friend talk me into wearing this strapless sequined tube of a dress. I didn’t have the boobs she did, but prayed it would miraculously stay put.

There were 15 of us in total, with myself as the lone East coast-er, the only one with real boobs, and one of the two single people in the bunch. Relationship status didn’t matter in the hours leading up to midnight – we were just a group of friends ringing in the New Year. But when the night reached its frenzied peak as the countdown began, I looked around for the other single girlfriend.

10…..9…..

She had disappeared.

8…..7…..

All the couples around me were arm in arm, shouting the backward numbers, blissfully ignorant of my crisis.

6…..5…..4…..

Some creepy guy standing next to me grabbed my waist. I shoved his hands off me and flung my steely “just try that again” look at him. He didn’t.

3….2….1….

I stood alone, on a crowded dance floor.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!

There’s something magical but heartbreaking about the moment a new year begins.  The elation of the digit-flip, the cheering, the falling confetti, and the slow descent from frenzy into Auld Lang Syne are all very intoxicating. Time pauses while you enjoy the soft caress of lips with your companion. You bless the wonderful memories of the past year and wish good riddance to the ugly ones. And in these first few seconds, the new year is pristine. It is untouched and unblemished. It is perfect, yet still so easily shattered as you realize that the same feeling of despair and loneliness that existed at 11:59:59 on 2011 was not only still present, but magnified tenfold at 12:00:01 on 2012.

Because I stood alone, on a crowded dance floor.

The romantic embraces all around me seemed to defy time. I was about to leave the dance floor when suddenly I caught sight of my sequined-dress-pusher of a best friend running at me, arms outstretched. Before I could blink she had planted a loud, smacking kiss on my lips and was screaming ‘Happy New Year, Peach!!!’ over the din.  We laughed and hugged and then of course went back to more blister-inducing dancing, almost as if that moment of darkness had never occurred.  Hell, I doubt anyone even sensed it, other than me.

This year when given the chance to come to New York, I was hellbent on NOT having an emotional fuckery repeat during the ball drop of 2013.  Single-hood be damned, I’ve had too great of a year to spend even one iota of a second feeling sorry for myself at the stroke of midnight.

During 2012 I got healthy and got happy. I reveled in the proximity to family after so many years away. I was lovingly embraced by friends old and new. I dated a few men, and have those shitshow stories to thank for starting this blog. I made a Life List and started a journey of living my life for me, to the fullest and to the fore. I recognized my deep-down passions and started to go after them, without letting fear of judgment control my ambitions.

I’m so glad that I chose “different” over “usual” this year for New Year’s Eve.  I swapped the dress and stilettos for a compression shirt, race bib, running tights and my trusty Nikes. Instead of battling a sweaty dance floor packed with obnoxious handsy drunks, I battled the cold and my newly-strong body all the way to a sweaty finish line.footWM

startlineWM

Running those 3.14 miles through Brooklyn’s Prospect Park couldn’t have been more perfect. There were no expectations, and no silly build-up leading to a monumental emotional hangover. The only drunks I saw were teenagers teetering along the park’s path with their party hats and smuggled bottles of champagne.  I listened to my steady breath inhaling and exhaling the chilly air in a solid rhythm. My thigh muscles bunched and released with every stride and I remember grinning at the thought that there’d be no way in hell my rockin’ new booty would fit into that sequined strapless number from last year.  I laughed as I was passed by a girl who ran the race with her torso wrapped in Christmas lights.  I challenged myself to pass a few folks, just to see if I could do it. And when we crossed the finish line just before midnight, we celebrated with steaming cups of Swiss Miss hot chocolate.  The few hundred of us counted down to 2013 underneath the barren trees, exhilarated and alive as we watched the fireworks start. I hugged Might-E and her friend, and that was it. No muss, no fuss.

At 12:00:01 of 2013, there were no residual feelings of loneliness or despair. There was only peace and happiness.  Because I knew that I didn’t need a clock or confetti or a ball drop to tell me how amazing this year will be. My goals were already in motion and I knew that even bigger, better things were in store for me.

When I closed my eyes that night, curled under a blanket in the heart of Brooklyn, I thanked the universe for everything that was 2012. The struggles and the joys changed me for the better and I’m steady, solid and happy for the first time in as long as I can remember. I drifted into my first sleep of 2013 with a smile in my heart.

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Linking up with the fantastic crew over at YeahWrite.

Snark the Halls

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Being single during the holidays means that it’s the perfect time of year for many, many things to make you feel stabby.  Go grab your peppermint-bark-crusted-salted-caramel-nutella-oreo-chocolate-explosion cookies and sit down with me for a moment.

socksWM

‘Tis the Season of family holiday photo cards arriving in the mail. Oh, yay. The snail-mail arrival of perfect photographic depictions of perfect families and perfect kiddos.  The only thing holding my sanity intact when I open these are that I am close enough to these gorgeous faces that I know a photocard only captures one perfect moment. I’ve seen the meltdowns and diaper explosions, people. I’m onto you. 🙂

‘Tis the Season of being the only single gal at gatherings and neverending “Sooooooo, how’s your love life?!?”s. While I don’t mind sharing my dating shitshow stories in the least, it can also be deflating. If I have to hear “OhmyGAWD, I’m SO glad I don’t have to deal with dating any more.” one more time, someone’s gonna get a bacon-wrapped date where the sun don’t shine.

‘Tis the Season of sappy jewelry commercials that invoke single-girl emotional death spirals. After seeing them, I can’t help but imagine all my coupled-up friends having fireside chocolate and wine and gifting their ladies diamond tennis bracelets… while I’ll be on the couch in my UGA sweats watching Love Actually and eating my feelings in Rolos.

‘Tis the Season of being the last consideration when it comes to family gatherings and travel arrangements. If you have no family of your own, it’s automatically assumed you’ll go with the majority rule. The only way around that is to grow a pair, speak up, and say that you’re doing your own thing this year. Which I did.

‘Tis the Season of FUCK YOU, MISTLETOE. Maybe I should start full-body tackling any single man that walks within 5ft of that make-out malarkey. That might work to score me a date, no?

‘Tis the Season of the bleeding checkbook.  Giving gifts to a single person is easy. One person, one gift. But giving gifts AS a single? We wind up spending double to reciprocate gifts given to us by couples. It hurts the single-income wallet.

But on the other hand… as a single…

‘Tis the Season of not having to haul around a monstrously big tree. A friend of mine we’ll call FreakFlag got stuck playing Catch the Tree while her husband shoved a 7-footer over the rail of their back deck. It was all fun and games until the stump landed directly on her big toe. Gee, that sounds like fun. Yeah, no thanks.  I stuck an inanimate pretty thing on my counter, hung two stockings on my front door, slapped a string of lights over my outside entrance and called it a day.

treeWM

‘Tis the Season of not having to fight with any in-laws over who’s going where this year, how much to spend on each cousin under the age of 13, or any other nonsense that stirs up hurt feelings and drama. Y’all have fun with that. I’ll be over here sexting with the other lonely singles.

‘Tis the Season of baking…but only if I want to.  There are no daycare/school parties requiring cookies and no neighborhood block parties demanding banana/pumpkin bread. And if I do choose to bake, people are all… whoa, look what the single girl did! You’d think I didn’t have opposing thumbs.

‘Tis the Season of not being required to send cards. I will say that I appreciate the friends that remember that I’m alive this time of year, because it is sweet to be included in their address list. But no one seems to mind if single people don’t send cards.  I personally do, but I stick with something funny/snarky. Like this.

cardsWM

‘Tis the Season to gift yourself! So what if no one is giving me bling? See those boots? I want em. Hmm, that Coach bag is gorgeous. It shall be mine. I probably would have spent a ridiculous amount on a significant other, so why not treat myself? More, why let all these sales go to waste??

‘Tis the Season of freedom. Singles can travel! Last year I spent New Year’s Eve in California. This year, New York, are you ready for me?!?!  My friend NotMary is grabbing the chance to take a trip to Haiti, just because she can. Cool, right?

Well hell, y’all.  Overall, I think the goods outweigh the bads. And if the bads are really bad this year?  There’s always alcohol.

Lots and lots of alcohol.

So tell me.  Single or taken, what are the most annoying things about the holidays for YOU?

Hell On Wheels

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Yes, this entry is definitely categorized under Hot Mess.

There is a REASON we only roller skate as children. Or, it could just be me.  I suck at skating.  I also suck at rollerblading, ice skating, water skiing, skateboarding, snowboarding and snow skiing. So, pretty much anything that involves strapping my feet  –> which are attached to my stoopidlong legs –> which make up 75% of my stoopidtall body –> into some device that involves inertia-meets-gravity? Yeah, not having it.

skateWM

A little while ago my gym threw a social at a skating rink. Do me a favor and picture 20 grown men and women who do CrossFit. Now picture them on rollerskates.  Yep.  The same men who routinely kill it in the workouts that destroy me were now windmilling their arms and winding up on their asses. I tried and managed about 5 wobbly laps around the rink, but it was ugly.  I had to seriously focus on not being flattened by the little kids zipping around me, not staring too much at the teens who were humping the wall to the tune of the [explicit hip hop song] playing, and keeping an eye out for people suicidal enough to fall in my path. Did they not understand that STOPPING is not in my skillset?  Maybe I should have tried using one of the granny walkers (seen below). Safer, yes. Cool points? Maybe. I could make it sexy if I really tried.

grannywalker

But, I will say that aside from the ‘I’m either gonna break my neck or kill a kid’ moments, it was a LOT of fun.

And then this was said:

tweet

For the record, I did not say this.  I just wanted to be IN REAL SHOES and would have performed sexual favors to be rescued from this booty-rap death trap. What I did not count on was the way that the night would turn out.

I vaguely remember the following:

  • Sam Adams Winter Ale(s) – I lost count.
  • Learning a new dance called The Wobble.  Oh, you crazy twenty-somethings…
  • Flirting and being flirted with.
  • Playing board games at a different bar, while still drinking beer.
  • Telling my trainer friend that he really should shave his beard because he has such a good looking face. About 10 times.
  • Eating scrambled eggs, grits and a biscuit at 4am. #FAILEO
  • Falling asleep when the sun was coming up.

Oh man.  Most of the next day was spent on my couch recovering, thinking how much I’m too old for this shit. But even days later, I’m still smiling at how much fun it was.

Sometimes you’ve just gotta be a kid.

The Girl Code

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lovewar

Whoever thought up that saying needs to be punched in the dick. Because you know it was a man.*

All is NOT fair in love and war when you’re jello-wrestling with a question like, “Is it ever okay to date someone who used to date your friend?”.

In the world of dating, I believe in the Girl Code. The Girl Code is the tacit but firm agreement within unmarried female friendships that states the following: Any man your friend is seeing is off limits, including if/when they ever break up. Period.  “Seeing” can mean any of the following: seriously dating, casually dating, sleeping with, about-to-be sleeping with, or any combination of the four.  The Girl Code is the equivalent of “Bros Before H*s” for our prettier gender.  There is no gray area in this previously undiscovered Eleventh Commandment: “Thou shalt not trespass onto the privates of your girlfriends’ man, present or former.”  He should be dead to you, at least romantically. The feelings of your girlfriends come first and always.

So, if your friend started seeing someone you may have been interested in, how could you successfully flip the switch from lusty pursuer to indifferent acquaintance? My method has been that the man was immediately and without hesitation thrown directly into Ugly Friend Zone. What’s that? Here’s an example: When I was once pondering what he looked like shirtless, then I’m now imagining that he’s hairier than Sasquatch and has severe backne. I’ve made him as unappealing as possible in my mind, because there is just no sense in torturing myself. UFZ has worked for me so far.

Until recently. A man who dated a friend of mine previously has expressed interest in me.  Eeek.

It’s been a humbling lesson to learn that things are never as black and white as we wish. Let me throw out some hypotheticals.  For instance, what if your friend dated him a long time ago? Does the passage of years soften the harshness of seeing the same person?  Or, what if she dated him very briefly, very recently, but has moved on?   Do you take the approach, “Well, they were never really serious.” and go forth in pursuit? If so, what is the proverbial line that defines whether they were “serious” or not? Exclusivity? Sex??? Does it make it better or worse if the man is the one doing the pursuing? What if your friend swears to you that it’s fine for you to date him? How do you know she really means it? Does this entire question all depend on individual circumstances and personalities?

WHERE’S THE DAMN RULE BOOK FOR THIS SHIT?!?

I may not personally have answers to the above mindfuck, but I’m certain that there is one very crucial non-negotiable when it comes to the Girl Code: Honesty between friends. Regardless of whether you’ve been close for years or for months, open communication has to happen. Be up front with her and for heaven’s sake, do not lie. Yes, it sucks to be an adult, but you need put on your big girl panties and deal with it before anything really icky happens. Understand that you may be stirring up old hurts or creating new ones and your friend may not react well. But if your friend is a good one she’ll be honest, even if it’s not the answer you want to hear. And if YOU are a good friend you’ll respect her choice either way.

In the end, its not complicated. It all comes down to the fact that your friends matter.  They’ll be the ones that pick up your little heart pieces when the idiot stomps on it. They’ll be the ones that get you without you having to saying a word. They will be the ones that stick by you, no matter the geographical distance.  They will be the ones who will one day walk down the aisle in an ugly dress for you, cry joyful tears with you when your kids are born, and be there for you during every shitty thing life is going to throw at you. Don’t do anything in the moment that could damage a lifetime.

So, is it ever okay to date someone that your friend used to see? The answer depends on three things:

  1. Honesty.
  2. How your friend feels about it.
  3. How you feel about it.

As for me? I’ve completed number 1 and know the answer to number 2. But I still haven’t figured out number 3.  Wish me luck.

*Of course I was right.