From training bras to hotel porn to 31

Our friendship was sealed at 8 years old when we decided to spell it out on the Lite Brite: “Amy and Melissa: Best Friends Forever.” We lived across the street so that made this arrangement very convenient, but over the years we’ve ended up an entire 15-minute drive from each other and I’ve realized proximity really has nothing to do with this friendship (although the time she spent an entire hour away in Columbia was pretty sucky).

We were best friends through all of the impressionable years, and I mean all of them. Amy had a pool so we spent lots of time in our swimsuits, and one day we “decided” we had big hips and that was “bad.” We were what, 9? We went crying to her mother about it, who said, “Don’t worry. Guys like big hips.” Well, then – no complaints! My hips today are still a source of frustration for me, but I always remember Mrs. Weimer’s advice. And Amy did not at the time and does not now (even after 2 kids) have that same issue – she must’ve been living vicariously through me (I have enough hips to share.)

In fourth grade on a Girl Scout trip to Savannah we got in trouble for the first time. There were 4 of us in the hotel room and we decided to see what the little box on top of the TV did. We turned a dial and – woah. All of us stared, motionless, at the lascivious behavior going on before our eyes on some rocks beside the water on the television. It was Amy who finally broke the silence – “Uhm, guys? I don’t think we should be watching this.” She always was the smart one, and it was her quick thinking that saved our butts later when the hotel added the charge to our room. We insisted to the Girl Scout leaders we only watched it for a few minutes – and they could tell by asking the front desk that this was true. I don’t recall the inside of Juliette Gordon Low’s house, but I do recall the 7 minutes of the blonde woman getting ravished by her handsome boy toy …

When I was grounded Amy would sneak in my window and hang out – Mom asked me several times who I was talking to and I’d always answer “my Barbies.”

I measured up my growing up against Amy’s, as a way for me to know if I was coming along at the right pace or not. She wore a bra before me, I got my period before her. We both lied about our first kisses and we survived middle school together, perms and all. I’d say we grew up at just the right pace.

I truly don’t think I would have survived high school without Amy. It certainly would have been a much different experience. In my diary in January 1994 I detail a conversation between myself and a guy who was likely trying to engage in some lascivivious behavior himself. I wrote, “Then he told me whatever happens between us is between me and him, not between my friends and his friends, etc. The only problem with this, I told him, is I tell Amy everything.” In fact, when said guy tried later to make out with me, all I could think was that I wanted it to hurry up and be done so I could tell Amy about it.

In college, she lived at home but my roommate moved out of the dorms after first semester freshman year, so I had an extra bed. Amy stayed over 3 times a week – she was “basically” like my roommate. We would go to the Student Union at 7 a.m. and get a Krispy Kreme and coffee and chat with our friend Scott before our 8 a.m. classes. I seriously don’t know how I got out of bed that early.

I wore black and white in her wedding and she wore black and white in mine. She’s the cutest pregnant bridesmaid I have ever seen.

We have been there through each other’s heartaches, through big hips and small boobs and weddings and children and our 20s. And today she turns 31 – and I feel like our friendship has barely begun.

See more old pictures here if you want (including one in bikinis!):