I remember thinking how lucky I was to have found a friend like Maggie. I had moved to Los Angeles from my all-American roots in suburban Chicago. I was positive that not a soul I'd meet would go deeper than the color of her hair, and - boom! - along came Mag, real to the bone. Smart, tough, and my kind of funny. We became the kind of friends women live to have. We spent endless hours contemplating life and love and books and men. I was newly married and she was a budding actress. Our lives were perfectly opposite.
The arrival of my first baby was a thrill beyond what either of us ever imagined. We reveled in the baby's every move. The first time my daughter laughed she was sitting on Maggie's lap. We thought she was choking; we panicked in sync like psychotics. When the baby had her first vaccination shots, Maggie came with me. For days afterward we fantasized about the different ways in which w ... read full excerpt from: What Did I Do Wrong?: When Women Don't Tell Each Other the Friendship Is Over ebook
