“So if we were going to be shallow, which friend would each of us be?”
This is Gen’s comment after we saw The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants tonight.
I am blessed to be one fourth of a quartet of strong female friends. G and I went tonight to see it, as we’d both loved the book. But which friend am I? Is Gen? Em? Arwen?
In the words of Brian Johnson, the geek in The Breakfast Club, “You see us as you want to see us: in the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions. But, what we found out is that each one of us is: a brain . . .
And an athlete . . .
And a basket case . . .
A princess . . .
And a criminal.
Does that answer your question?”
Which one of us does not somehow crusade for justice? Which one of us is not afraid to take the hard line? Which one of us does not depend on the others for strength sometimes?
We have pigeonholes for one another: “You ALWAYS do that!” “Cause THAT’s a great idea as usual.” “She’s DOING it again.” (eye roll)
We fight. We learn. We share.
But they’d have a hard time making a movie of us because we’d be too messy, too convoluted, too visceral, too alive. We just won’t stay in our boxes.