I have one cousin on my mom’s side.
Only my one cousin is way more awesome than a dozen of your cousins put together. Sorry.
I was at his house the other day when an email came in asking for a recent professional photo of me for a calendar. (Yes, that calendar, I technically ended up being #13 in votes but someone backed out and so I was asked to join in at the 11th hour. Available for preorder now!)
My skin hates California. My eyes hate the moosh waking up at 6 am everyday. My period? Let’s just not go there. I felt bloaty, I felt puffy, I felt unsalvageable.
Enter my cousin Jaush and his train cases.
Don’t you feel prettier just looking at them?
He swooped, he brushed, he laquered, he painted, he teased, he combed, he patted and he fluffed.
Twenty minutes later?
OH. Did I fail to mention the vintage black cocktail dress that just HAPPENED to be in his closet that just HAPPENED to be in my size?
WELL, he just happened to have a vintage black cocktail dress in my size hanging in his closet.
I’m hoping the next time we hang out peep toe heels fall from the sky and rain gutters spew diamond earrings.
Because after an afternoon with Jaush? I’m beginning to think that’s totally possible.