I was 2 years old when my stepmother Gini burst into my life like a glamorous, marauding Valkyrie set on bending me to her will.
She had platinum blonde hair worn in an Aqua-Net bouffant, thick black eyeliner and a figure Jayne Mansfield would’ve killed for. At night, she peeled her false eyelashes off like she was undressing her face.
We are what we repeatedly do; excellence, then, is not an act but a habit. – Aristotle
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