There are very few pictures of my siblings and I together that aren't staged. There are a few group shots at a professional photography studio, more often with our children thrown in. Or there are awesome shots of our children, but not much with us. There are few in between. We have a million pictures taken of each other, but not of all of us together - only us, without one of us looking drunk or somehow not up for the picture.
The window of opportunity officially closed when my brother Jimmy died in 1993, at the age of 26. My sisters and I swore we would never take another group picture of "us" if he couldn't be a part of it. And we stuck to it.
After my grandmother's memorial, last weekend, I found pictures I did not know existed. I scanned them and sent them to my sisters, who also had never seen them before. They were from our grandparent's 50th anniversary in 1984. They are awesome. My sisters are smokin' hot. And I am, well, I am 13. I swear I got prettier. From the left, it usually goes Kouf, Bouf, me in my May Day dress, Jimmy, and Shouf.
Kouf, are you wearing a white satin jumpsuit? With black "fuck me pumps"?
Bouf emailed me from Arizona to tell me that she remembered buying that dress. In a size zero. Bitch...
16 hours ago