True story: A couple of weeks ago, I went to a gathering of my extended family. While I was there, two different relatives thought I was my mother. Not though I looked like her. Thought I was her. Now granted, my mom’s a pretty foxy lady, but still. Something needed to be done, and fast.
The moment I got home, I
entered counseling for a severe traumatic stress disorder started rummaging through my sample bins, desperate for any tricks to remedy whatever situation had been going on under those clearly-unflattering fluorescent lights.
After trying and discarding a few different options, I’ve landed on two new loves worth sharing. Read on