Natasha is a Kiwi, born of English parents, married to a South African, living in Australia, and reckons that her take on life is probably about as screwed up as her accent. She considers cake and chocolate to be two essential parts of a well balanced life, and is often called a cow by her best friend in between mouthfuls and much laughter.
Am I a cow?
It’s a fair question if you’re me.
I’ve never been the type of friend who tells you your dress is gorgeous when it’s obviously highlighting every bit of flab on your body.
I’ll never tell you the man you’re dating is wonderful if you’ve clearly lowered your standards to date him solely because you’re lonely.
And I’ll never just sit back and watch you make decisions in your life that will take you on a path away from Heavenly Father without telling you in no uncertain terms that you are being an idiot.
So does that me a cow? Before you decide, hear me out.
I’m not like this with everyone. In order to qualify my sledgehammer comments you have to have made it to the rank of “best friend” which means that we already know the good, the bad and the ugly about each other and yet for some reason we still choose to hang out. With those I rank as mere acquaintances I’m tactful, smiling, indulgent and decidedly mediocre in my comments, but in my desires to meddle or even know about their lives, I don’t really care enough. But with my best friends, those women I truly love and care for, I invest a piece of myself in their well-being. I cry with them in their struggles and rejoice with them in their triumphs, and I’m always there if they need me, no matter what. So when those women ask my opinion or involve me in their struggles, I think I owe it to them to give an honest answer or an honest opinion – isn’t that what separates them from being just acquaintances? Isn’t that what shows them that I truly do love them? Honesty?
I live by the adage that if you’re going to stab someone you love, it’s best to do it in their front. There’s no joy in telling someone you love something that you know will not be pleasant to their ears, but every so often it’s just got to be done. “The other dress was better”, “Is he worth what you’re giving up?” and “When was the last time you read you scriptures or said a prayer?” are all blunt little sledgehammers that have come out of my mouth only to be greeted by silence. I will however, hold off stabbing you with my opinion until you ask for it, mostly, and if you’re really, really lucky sometimes I can even manage to do it with some tact. But if the situation somehow gets to the point where my opinion is called for, you better be prepared for my honest one because that’s exactly what you’re going to get – as your best friend I love you enough to give it.
So does this make me a cow? Or does this make me a great best friend? (Obviously I’m rooting for the latter, but you can be honest!)