Introducing Pippa

Having introduced my small family unit, it’s probably time to introduce one of the next closest people in my life – Pippa. Pippa is my best friend.

Pippa is not her real name. We had a brief and very intense discussion tonight over dinner regarding whether or not she is allowed a pseudonym in my writings. I maintain that my journalistic integrity is all about protecting the innocent. Which doesn’t include Pippa even on her most virtuous day.

Pippa is probably the closest person to me after my husband. She is my best friend – I tell her absolutely everything and I never, ever lie to her. Not even the little white lies that serve as social grease making our lives easier, happier places to be. I respect her far too much for that. She thinks, because I tease her a lot, that I don’t respect her or that I find her to be a weak sort of person. The opposite is true. Apart from being one of the strongest women I know, I tease her because she is a super-woman and if I don’t do it, no one will and she’ll get a big fat head and become unbearable. Plus, despite some ten years of being friends, she still bites every single time.

I tease Pippa about her minor weaknesses and she teases me about my major ones and because we are both nasty, stubborn cows, the end result of these unflattering insights into each other is not a derailed ego for either of us. Instead these subtle jibes and honest discussions have helped us both work at being better people. She has learned to relinquish some of her potent control freakiness and I have had to learn to be softer – not just with the feelings of others but in more practical ways. Pippa is the only reason I own (and wear) dresses.

If I tell you how we met, you might understand why I think Pippa needs her very own Current Affair-style exposé. Picture it;

It’s my first day in a new job. Like all new jobs I’m nervous and desperate to be liked. So far I haven’t managed to stuff anything up or offend anyone. Right as I’m congratulating myself on finding a workplace I might enjoy, a chick that looks like a blonde version of me walks past and I notice that her tag is hanging out of her jeans. Thinking that I hate having my size broadcasted in this fashion to the masses, I unthinkingly tuck it back in. Ramrod straight and stiff she spins on the spot, glares at me and in the loudest “pay attention all ye who dwell within the nearest 50 cubicles” I’ve ever heard she shouts, “Dude! Did you just touch my ARSE???”

Why we ever became friends after this is a complete mystery to me. It’s surely not natural to bond with people who publicly humiliate you when you’re at your most vulnerable (unless you like that sort of thing in which case you probably have a much more popular blog than me on a bondage website somewhere). But become friends we did. Pippa is the only worthwhile thing that came out of that job (apart from the fake Monet my co-workers stole as a farewell present out of the atrium for me and the realisation that you don’t have to stay in a crap job you can always quit).

We look a little bit alike and people always ask if we’re sisters. We finish each other’s sentences a lot – we lunch a lot, we talk a lot and as time goes by we’ve both noticed how similar we’re becoming. I’ve taught her how to be a bit more practical and have a go at whatever comes her way – she’s taught me how to be girly and elegant. We’re gradually assimilating ourselves. Clonedom is surely not far off.

When I was pregnant with my children I wrote a diary and it was distributed to friends and family. Thanks to the pregnancy diaries, Pippa knows what sort of fodder she might provide for the blog. Hence her request for a pseudonym. She claims she doesn’t remember how we met but whenever I remind her she at least has the grace to blush. It’s not that she’s ashamed of the things she does, necessarily; it’s that she doesn’t want my particular slant on those activities distributed globally.

So I cave and offer her the opportunity to select a pseudonym (plus, I’m using one, so it’s probably only fair). She offers up “Isabelle”. This makes me laugh because it is the kind of name we choose because it sounds like the person we wish we were. Forget it kid, I tell her, it has to be something I can use on a daily basis that actually reminds me a little of her. I tell her that if the name is going to be fluffy I’ll insist on spelling it differently to make it more earthy and more Pippa-like. “Yzubel” for example.

“You suck,” she tells me.

“What about ‘precious’,” she asks. Well when you put that name in a LOTR context, it does convey the hidden evil behind the shiny gold exterior which is my Pippa…but would everyone understand that? In the end I suggest Pippy – an extended version of PP standing for Princess Perfect. Which is how Pippa would like to be. While she liked this name, when I thought more about it Pippy seemed a bit small and cute and quite inappropriate for a woman of Pippa’s magnitude. So (without Modom’s permission) I’ve gone with the stronger “Pippa”. I can tolerate this name and, if it keeps her safe from being identified by the broader public, I think Pippa will go with it too…

Pippa is probably going to be my first blog follower, if only so she can know what I’m writing about her. At first I wasn’t going to tell her what the blog was called. I briefly flirted with calling it “Don’t Tell Pippa” and letting everyone who knows who she is enjoy reading about her exploits. But this seemed a bit mean, even for me and no doubt it would drive her mad and she would eventually stab me to death with my hot rollers. As it is I bet she checks my blog five times a day to see what I’ve written about her so that she can write an instant rebuttal in the comments section.

Despite her dread over what I might write, because she is Pippa, she is of course in for the whole journey. She’ll probably forward my blog to people she knows, advertise and edit it endlessly and then, two years from now, quietly negotiate a book or movie deal I never even thought of. Either that or she’ll start a rival blog for rebuttal purposes, negotiate her own book and movie deal and have the last laugh from her mansion. That’s the sort of woman she is and that’s why I love her.

Tonight I informed Pippa that she had better start getting a bit fit because she will be coming along to all of the activities I have to try for Let’s Get Physical month. She didn’t even bother putting up a fight because she knows she’ll do it just because I said so. Make no mistake, this is not because Pippa is a pushover. Oh no. This is so when she comes up with something she wants me to do with her, I will meekly fall into line and just do it. That’s how it works. Plus, she has inflicted waaaay worse things on me over the course of our relationship (more on that later). Pippa has also suggested a monthly challenge that she would join me for…a whole month of being vegan. So no doubt you’ll be hearing a lot more about her. And now you know who she is.