It's confidence that defines us

They say honesty is the best policy. I usually agree unless a colleague is telling me I look tired, or when prompted, a friend admits my jeans are too tight for my age. Hey, I’m not the only chick out there who does her best to look her best after getting paid a visit from Mother Nature in the form of extra bags under the eyes and on her hips. She insults me with a muffin top and cottage cheese butt and then encourages me to wear a string bikini with my girlfriends at the pool.

Yep, I did that. You see, I have hot friends. Smokin hot friends. The kind who turn heads and piss off other women our age, even though I suspect they don’t know this.

It was last July, and T and I decided to get away to my cabin in the mountains. Bring our favorite GNO pals, J and K. Let me describe these ladies so you get the picture, and the angst.

J is my “super model” friend. A 5’8” size nothing with blond hair, clear skin and blue eyes. Wears no makeup because she doesn’t need it. No belly roll, no back fat, and her butt sits where it’s supposed to. I hate her just describing her.

K is my “popstar” friend. Equally tall, with the most toned and tanned body and quite a nice rack (I’m just being objective here…) Long curly hair and looks a lot like a popstar that if you saw her, you’d second guess who’s who.

And you all must have a mental image of T. She’s my “bombshell” friend. Another tall gal, with long blond big hair, a quick smile and flirty eyes, she’s one of the most comfortable women about her looks that I know. We’re in the same boat with our bodies, both desiring to lose a few here and there, but the difference is, T feels sexy and confident no matter her shape.

So when we hit the pool at the club last summer, one by one strutted in, took to their lounge chairs, and I watched as pretty much everyone over the age of puberty took notice as the cover ups came down.

We sat near the diving end, and call it coincidence but all of a sudden, men were lining up to try their cannonballs, back flips, and swan dives. T flipped her big hair and opened a magazine. J started texting her boyfriend. K went and got us a cocktail from the bar. Women threw daggers as her tight little body walked by, with no wiggle and all the right jiggle. K didn't notice.

I was absolutely dreading taking off my wrap. I all of a sudden felt as if my itsy bitsy teeny weeny bikini was simply a postage stamp and possibly no longer appropriate for the kiddie crowd. I was also worried of the judgement in my gal pal’s eyes.

After a couple bloody mary’s, and 105 degree weather beating on my skin, I took my wrap off. Hiding behind my biggest sunglasses, I watched their faces for reaction. K immediately dropped her jaw and exclaimed “Oh my goodness, you look terrific. Wow.” Followed by J who admitted she wished she had my boobs. T and I just looked at each other and smiled. She knew how important it was for me to hear their words.

Compared to my hot “super model”, “popstar”, and “bombshell” gal pals, I always tend to feel like a caterpillar. I don’t know why I worried they would judge me and find me lacking, I guess it’s because I judge me. And while I’d give up the ability to wear my 4” heels in order to have a smoking hot size nothing body, or be toned and tanned, there’s something very appealing about being proud no matter my size.

I don’t know where T got this. This comfort in her own skin. Maybe she just has no time or emotional energy to deal with more on her plate right now. Or if I’m being completely honest, maybe she just knows she’s beautiful and sexy just the way she is.

So what have I learned from my suddenly single and fabulous-just-the-way-she-is gal pal? That I have a long way to go with feeling her sense of comfort, but I get to watch her metamorphosis as she grows into who she is as a single mom, and perhaps she's already helping to change my own self-image as caterpillar into a butterfly.