The group text sisterhood was born in 2012, when Becca, Brodie, Alyssa and I joined a group chat that was full of memes, emojis and funny screen grabs. These three women are my tribe, the sisters I didn’t grow up with and the females of unresisting confession, admiration and laughter. We, the oddball sisters of good hair and group text, are here for one another, like a never ending pizza party with unlimited pizza and extra dip. Group text is our beautiful modern women’s story.

Beautiful Brodie is our narrator. She’s the emotional pulse of our group; naturally intelligent, a leader and constantly growing with every stolen bike and school semester she overcomes. Becca, the calm and level-headed old-soul, represents calmness in our group text; with a streak of old-school rebellion, made obvious by her love of gold Michael Kors watches, Lauryn Hill and traditional tattoos. Alyssa is a fucking wild yoga instructor. She’s the life of the after-hours and the queen of vintage dress up, tipsy living room yoga and the Cha Cha. And then there’s me, the little sister of the group; the weird, wacky and impulsive girl who makes silly mistakes but keeps trying anyways.

Together we comprise the sisterhood, glued together by our hair products, life goals and determination to make things work, no matter what circumstances, money woes or problems that keep us down.

With the modern power of group texting (and WiFi), these three women are in my pocket all day and all night. We text about lazy mornings, miserable weather, bad hair days and funny memes about R. Kelly. We share updates about new sushi places on Ossington or vegetarian restaurants we haven’t tried yet, hot guys on bikes, things that annoy us and things we love, like avocados on toast (with lemon, salt and pepper).

On tough days, we text about life confusion, period cramps and if birth control is really worth it. We laugh, and responses are almost always “OMG!” “NO WAY!” “UGH,” “WTF,” “WHY IS EVERYONE SO MESSED UP?!” “ME TOO!” “YUMM!” or “SHUT UP!” We need the dramatic and capital letter replies to share in the excitement over offensive outfits on the TTC, pants that don’t fit right in the crotch, amazing homemade breakfast and weird bruises that look scary and life-threatening.

Within our group text, there’s also a feminist book club, music circle and trusted movie alliance. We debate about the best and worst parts about Not That Kind Of Girl, Bossy Pants and Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? Becca is about to read Monica Heisey’s new book. Brodie is borrowing Sarah Silverman in exchange for I Love Dick. Becca and Brodie have been ranting about Broad City lately. While we rarely have time to watch movies together, we exchange recommendations and watch the same movies together, but at different times, then talk about it days later as if we watched it together at the cinema.

Group text is also a beauty forum of feedback and trial. These women know the perfect remedies, recipes and formulas for feeling good. I share cheap-girl hacks and random things I learned about kombucha, baking soda and exfoliators. Hair products are open fire between us. Working at a hair salon, we have our own language around skin care routines, toning agents, oils, hair spray and the best shampoo and conditioner for weightless volume and thickness. We’ve lived through each other’s bad haircuts, fringe nightmares and colour regrets. Our skin and hair might be different between the four of us, but we’re honest. Whether we’re oily, full of zits, dry and damaged, we know the remedy and each other’s skin and hair type-our recommendations are TRUTH. And that’s all that matters.

Between LOL, heartbreak and the nightmares of underwear shopping, we get v. serious too. When we’re not confessing our appreciation for big butts, nice tits and how to master the best naked selfies, we talk about the depressing, frustrating and tiring things that happen all the time. We don’t always know if what we’re doing with our lives is the right thing, if we’re dating the right people, or if we’re happy in the lives we’re living. Life is a journey (Amy Wood quote). And with the seasons changing, short-turning streetcars, shitty grades, awkward interactions, annoying family members, hangovers, roommate complaints and larger women’s issues like sexual harassment, abortion, death and stupid drunk men who can’t catch a hint that no actually means no, we need the women in our group text to be there.

When life isn’t fair and there’s nothing we can really do about it, everything feels sort of helpless and stale. Doubt is lingering in the subtext and regrets are in full force by the morning after. But we’ve got each other, and if one of us is suffering, the other three are there for her via emojis and caps lock reactions. We tell each other not to be so hard on ourselves, or that men are dumb and that nobody really knows what they’re doing, like ever, so we’re doing okay, I guess?

When we’re not group texting and spending quality time together, we laugh about the dumb stuff we say but don’t really mean. We talk about pigeon attacks, people who walk slow, loud people on the bus, creepy old men, bad life decisions, big dicks, micro-penises, choking, purses on sale, sunglasses that don’t break, face creams, menstrual cups and denim jumpsuits. In India, Australia, Hong Kong, Miami, New York, British Columbia, Niagara and California, the group text has travelled, grown and expanded to shed the old skin of last year’s sunburns, only to add moisture to the new women we’ve become. These women are my pocket texts of wisdom, knowledge and therapy on-the-go.

Here’s to all the raw confessions, silly hopes, thoughtful observations, strange nightmares, late nights, pigeon attacks, early mornings, missing earrings, hangovers, regrets, bad sex, good sex and hair products of my group text sisterhood. Now and forever ladies.