Don't hold your breath

I found an email the other night that I had printed out for some reason and because I burst out laughing—literally LOL’ed— when I read it, I figured it was blog-worthy.

Let me set the scene: just before the end of my junior year of high school, some very close family friends told me they were moving away and I wouldn’t get to spend senior year with the oldest, who was my age. The oldest, as it were, spent a great deal of time being my best friend as well as at the top of my sh*t list. At any rate, the below recounting of an exchange between he and I cracked me up.

It reads:

…At one point in the evening, he could tell I was bummed out about them moving. He tried to make me feel better. He told me I was pretty in my prom pics and that I should wear makeup like that more often. I told him it took an hour to put on so he shouldn’t hold his breath…

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