Girlfriend Getaways

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(Courtesy Lauren Gard)

"Happiness doesn't require you to have a different body than you have now. You've gotta love the one you're with," says Katie. "And it's you!"

My stomach rumbles, as if to say, "Don't you love me?"

"How's that tea?" I whisper to Anneliese.

"It's amazing!" she says, her eyes wide with faux joy.

We're first in line outside the juice room door at 6 p.m.

"¿Listas, senoritas?" the server asks.

Anneliese responds in Spanish that we are, indeed, ready. A server pours a steaming brown broth into a mug and hands it to Anneliese. For a moment I wonder if we can take a few extras mugs back to our room, but then quash the idea. I'm supposed to be a purveyor of self-love and peace, not a broth hoarder.

A Juicy Breakthrough
In our room, we slowly drink the broth and discuss the day's events. A few minutes after I've drained every last drop, I make a crucial mistake: I spot the room service menu across the room and devour it as though it's a porn mag starring Brad Pitt circa his Thelma and Louise days. Anneliese can't resist, either. The riveting descriptions of each item—the salt-encrusted baked potato, the farmers market pizza loaded with tomatoes and mushrooms and onions, even a simple side salad—quicken my pulse. Our resolve dissolves, and it's only day one. Pizza—and our mutual thwarting of the rules—has never tasted so good.

Eventually, Anneliese and I settle into a nice rhythm of juicing for breakfast and lunch, and then ordering room service for dinner. On our final day, after being called out on our coffee habit, we decide to play hooky. Manhattan Beach beckons. We catch a red trolley on Century Boulevard and fifteen minutes later exult in the fresh ocean air. We enjoy a languorous lunch at a restaurant with a fantastic view of the ocean, and as I peer across the table at my friend and swirl my tongue around a sumptuous mouthful of buttery salmon, I have a Katie-inspired breakthrough.

I've long found Anneliese's laments about her body—trying on clothes depresses her, for one—upsetting. I just can't understand why she's unhappy with herself when she's so beautiful. Katie's belief, of course, is that everyone is just as they should be, right now. That everyone is perfect. And yet it's usually pretty hard for me to swallow that. There are plenty of my own flaws I'd like to fix, not to mention ways in which I'd like my husband to change, or things I wish my mother would do differently. I realize, in awe, that my best friend Anneliese is perhaps the only person I know who I think doesn't need to change a single thing.

"I can't find anything about you that I don't love," I tell her, surprising myself when I burst into tears. "So when you complain, it's like you're saying I'm wrong. That's why I get so frustrated!" Anneliese looks at me warmly, thanks me, and pulls a few Kleenex out of her purse. And I realize that, despite all of our adventures, we have never shared so many kind, clear moments as this one in such a short period of time.