Girls’ Weekend

I’m not sure that there are 2 words in the English language, put together, that bring me as much joy as these two: Girls’ Weekend.

I’m now up to three different girls’ weekend traditions with three different groups of girls. In the winter, it’s my college friends in the Poconos. (Really girls’ weekend and Anthony, since he’s the only boy who comes every year). In June it was my high school friends. And this weekend was the grand-daddy of them all, Duplessis family girls’ weekend.

The year my niece got married (yes, you read that right. My niece. Married. She’s only 4 years younger than I am) we rented a couple of hotel rooms by the beach and all went away together. Between the giggling and the beaching and the sunning and the drinking, we realized we had something there. And so a tradition was born. The next year, we decided to try camping, and now every year, the weekend after the fourth of July, we all show up at the beach. Once we started camping, it became girls’ weekend and dad, since he who owns the motor home is automatically welcome.

We were ten this year: my parents, me, 3 of my sisters, my niece, her sister-in-law, Sarah (who my dad described as “like another daughter”), and my oldest nephew’s girlfriend. Her invitation was a momentous occasion, as we don’t let newbies in lightly, and David really likes her and would have been upset with us if we scared her off. There’s only one rule of girls’ weekend: no husbands, no kids. Pretty much everything else is fair game.

Conversations ranged from blow jobs as currency: “I know someone who gave her husband one a day for 6 months to get a Dyson vacuum cleaner. That’s not worth it. A cleaning lady, maybe. But not a vacuum.” To family history: (Were there really prostitutes in our background? Or did our mom’s sister make that story up?) to an in-depth discussion of the best way to remove the hair “down there.” And I loved every second of it.

There’s nowhere else in the world where I’m happier, where I’m more loved, where I make more sense, where I’m more “me” than right there, surrounded by my girls. They don’t only remind me of who I am, they are who I am. I’ve spent my entire life, since I took my first breath, as “the baby,” the youngest Duplessis girl. And there’s nothing in my life that could make me prouder.

p.s. A special thank you to Diosa, who developed my cute new signature. Isn't it great?? It's EXACTLY what I wanted.