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Tristan Thompson GUSHES Over Khloé Kardashian In Extra Instagram Post About Her ‘People’s Choice’ Win!



Tristan Thompson continues to write his own redemption arc!

Khloé Kardashian’s baby daddy shared some very kind words about her after the KUWTK star cleaned up at the People’s Choice Awards on Sunday.

The 28-year-old athlete took to Instagram on Monday to share a photo of his 35-year-old ex from the red carpet and congratulate her for taking home the awards for Best Reality Star and Best Reality Show, which she accepted with her family. 

Related: Tristan ‘Has Nothing To Lose’ In Trying To Win Back Khloé!

Thompson wrote:

“Wow wow wow @khloekardashian 👑👑. Congrats Momma Koko on winning best reality star 2019, that’s two years in a row. Two time champ. I love the sound of that. So proud of all you have accomplished this year. Revenge body is something that always stands out to me, you challenge people to fight for a better YOU. It’s more about what in life really gives us true happiness and is holding us back from achieving that.”

Very true! Kind of like how Momma Koko’s true happiness would be a man who doesn’t betray her trust!

Lost irony or not, Thompson went on to say he and their 1-year-old daughter True Thompson were “so proud” of the Good American mogul and her sisters for their big win.

He added:

“Y’all are truly role models to our younger generation. Keep leading with love and happiness. You go girl!!! *martin voice* ❤️❤️.”

See the full post (below).

It looks like he’s trying so hard to win her back — but we have a feeling it’s gonna take a few more (dozen) social media shout outs before KoKo even considers it.

Tristan’s message for Khlo comes days after he made an even grander gesture. As we reported, the starlet showed off a pink balloon arrangement that her ex sent her as a gift for the launch of her new pink diamond KKW Fragrance.

Video: Kim, Kourtney, & Khloé TRY To Keep It Peaceful On ‘The Real’

Khloé said in the clip, which showed the balloons spelling out the name of her new scent:

“Today was the launch of my pink diamond collection with KKW Fragrance and I got these balloons sent to me from baby True and Tristan and I really appreciate the love and the thoughtfulness.” 

The Revenge Body host went on to say how proud she is of her and Thompson for coming to gether to amicably raise their daughter, adding:

“I’m really proud at the co-parenting place that we are in.” 

As fans know, the former couple split up in February after news broke that the basketball star cheated on Khlo with Kylie Jenner’s ex-bestie Jordyn Woods

Do U think all this sucking up will get Khloé to take Tristan back, Perezcious readers?

[Image via Instagram/WENN]


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Vera Bradley joins forces with Sword & Plough for Veterans Day capsule



American bag and accessories brands Vera Bradley and Sword & Plough have teamed up for a limited-edition mini-collection commemorating the 100th anniversary of Veterans Day.

The collection combines the two brands’ signature aesthetics for an overall contrasting feel – Photo: Vera Bradley

The two-piece collection fuses Vera Bradley’s colorful patterned stylings with veteran-owned Sword & Plough’s military-inspired look for a contrasting aesthetic and features a backpack and a zippered pouch.
The backpack pairs Sword & Plough’s signature olive green in durable cotton canvas and military surplus twill with an interior and exterior trim in “Java Navy”, a recolor of Vera Bradley’s best-selling “Java Blue” floral print. The zippered pouch features a Java Navy cotton exterior and a cotton canvas interior.

Both of the items are U.S.-made and support Sword & Plough’s work with U.S. veteran-owned manufacturers. The backpack is priced at $165, the pouch at $55. 
“We are thrilled to collaborate with Sword & Plough, a company we greatly admire, both for its mission and for its fantastic products,” commented Vera Bradley CEO Rob Wallstrom in a release. “I know Vera Bradley and Sword & Plough fans will love both the backpack and zippered pouch – they are a great combination of fashion, function, and fun.”
The creative partnership is the latest in a diverse range of collaborations undertaken by Vera Bradley in recent months with brands including Starbucks Asia, Gillette and Crocs.  
As part of its latest collaboration, Vera Bradley has also pledged a $10,000 donation to The Mission Continues Women Veterans Leadership Summit, a national initiative seeking to empower female veterans to lead efforts towards community change and equality.
The Vera Bradley x Sword & Plough collection is available exclusively on the brands’ e-commerce websites.

Copyright © 2019 All rights reserved.

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My Husband Was Diagnosed with a Brain Tumor Months After Our Wedding



When my husband Jon Marc walked into our apartment after 8 p.m. on an average Thursday night in January 2018, nothing seemed amiss. He was tired, sure, but his job as a neurology resident pretty much guaranteed that.

But then Jon told me that he’d tried to speak to a patient in Spanish earlier that day, as he often did, but he couldn’t make the translations. When he tried to retrieve words from his brain, they weren’t there. It was like he’d never learned Spanish at all.

After six years of med school and his neurology residency, Jon knew that memory loss wasn’t good—nor were the headaches he had over the last few weeks. He offhandedly mentioned that these symptoms sounded like a brain tumor, but dismissed it. I did too.

But as his naps stretched to 19 hours a day and his thoughts became foggier, we decided to go to the emergency room on a Sunday afternoon in February.

We were sure it was nothing, but wanted a definite answer so we could stop worrying. We didn’t even go to the hospital where Jon worked because we didn’t want to bother his colleagues.

Jon had an MRI, which only took about 40 minutes, but two hours passed while we sat in a crowded room with little curtain partitions around each patient. We watched TV and anxiously awaited our dismissal. We wanted to go home and order Chinese takeout.

All of that calm disappeared when a neurosurgical resident came to ask Jon if he wanted to take a look at his own scan. Jon sarcastically muttered “That’s a great sign,” and I told him not to worry. I asked if he wanted me to come with, but he said no. Sitting there waiting for him was the first time it really occurred to me that something might be wrong.

When Jon came back he was serious and pale. He pulled the curtains closed. Shaking, he grabbed my hand tight and told me it was bad. There was something in his brain, likely a tumor. It was big, deep, and located in the region of his brain that controls speech and comprehension.

I have no idea how we slept that night or if we did at all, but I will forever mark our lives by before February 25, 2018 and after.

Jon and I met on our first day of college at the University of Delaware. Our dorm rooms were across the hall from each other, and we immediately became friends. I thought he was nerdy, adorable, and clearly obsessed—he was so flirty. But he maintains he wasn’t into me then.

To the surprise of exactly none of our friends, we started dating during our Junior year on November 1, 2009.

After college, Jon went to medical school in Philadelphia, and I headed to New York for a job in magazines. We spent four years making frequent weekend trips and Skype dates before he was placed in New York City for his medical school residency. I got him back.


Haley Richter Photography

After our whirlwind eight-year romance, we got married on October 21, 2017 in Philadelphia. I was never one of those girls who pictured her dream wedding—I wasn’t even sure I wanted to be married at all until I met Jon—but that day was so much more than I ever could have imagined anyway. It was autumn and the leaves already turned vibrant shades of orange, but it was sunny and 75 degrees. Jon walked down the aisle to “Friday I’m in Love” by The Cure, and I walked to meet him at the alter to “Somewhere Only We Know,” by Keane.

When we had a moment alone later we exchanged our cards. Both read “It was always you” on the front, totally unplanned. As cliché as it sounds, it was the best day of my life. I often revisit it when I think about what I once thought our future would look like. We spent the next few months after the wedding living exactly the way we had before, until that emergency room visit in February.

The morning after that initial emergency room visit, I felt hopeful. I was sure that there was a cure for whatever was wrong with Jon. We’d find a way to beat it.

But when we met with a neuro-oncologist the day after the MRI, the vibe was solemn and scary. After we spoke about the next steps to take, Jon asked to have a few minutes with the doctor by himself, so I left the room. A few minutes later he emerged with tears in his eyes. He looked at me blankly and said “I had forever and now I don’t.”

Looking back, I realize Jon knew exactly what he was facing. His time as a neurologist had taught him that. I wish I knew too so that he could have felt less alone, but apart from that comment he never let on how dire it could be. It was his way of protecting me.

“I had forever and now I don’t.”

Later that week doctors told us they could operate, but the tumor was the deadliest kind of brain cancer, called Glioblastoma. The median survival time is generally less than a few years and the tumors show up in approximately 12,000 people each year, and they’re incredibly treatment resistant. Of course, I didn’t know this back then because—in a rare feat of will power—I refused to google it.

Jon needed to have the tumor removed immediately, followed by radiation and chemotherapy. There was a 50 percent chance that Jon would come out with major vision loss, around a 5 percent chance he would never intelligibly speak again, and a smaller chance he wouldn’t make it through the surgery at all.

We signed forms acknowledging the risks, but they didn’t feel real. I wasn’t even used to signing my new last name yet, much less as his health care proxy in case he died.


Haley Richter Photography

At 6:00 am the next morning, they wheeled him out of his room in the intensive care unit toward the operating room. I took a mental picture in case that was the last time I saw him—or the last time he was really himself.

For eight excruciating hours, I sat in the chilly lobby waiting with our friends and family. Our group was about 10-people strong, and took up an entire seating area. I nervously snacked and prayed for vision loss, our best worst-case option. Finally his surgeon emerged to say he’d been able to remove 98 percent of the tumor. It was so much better than we hoped to hope for.

Jon had lost some of his peripheral vision, but he was already speaking—something we thought we’d have to weight hours for. We all sobbed with relief, scaring a dozen people sitting around us in the waiting area.

That second day out of surgery, the doctors asked him to what the date was, how to spell his name, and dozens of other questions. He got nearly every one wrong. But when they asked “What is your wife’s name?” he shouted “ERICA!” as if he was afraid to mess it up. His parents and I laughed.

Two weeks after that first surgery, Jon’s brain swelled and sent him back to the operating room. While doctors prepped Jon, the hospital staff suggested we talk about his preferences on resuscitation and feeding tubes if things took a turn. As his proxy (and wife of exactly four months), the decision would be mine. I’ve never felt more ill-equipped.

“I wasn’t even used to signing my new last name yet, much less as his health care proxy in case he died.”

The surgery was successful, but his speech was gone again, so we were back to square one. I can’t imagine how frustrating that was for him, but as is his personality, he never complained or got angry.

Seven months later, we spent the days leading up to our one year wedding anniversary in a lovely neuro-intensive care suite, post-surgery. No one had worked harder to reach that date than us.

We were disappointed but not shocked when the tumor emerged two more times. We’ve worked through Plans B (C, D, E, and F), but Jon is still fighting. The same determination that made him a great student and doctor makes him a stubborn but determined patient.


Erica Finamore

We’re often asked about what the financial burden is like, and in many ways we’ve lucked out. Our friends and family have been incredibly generous, cooking us meals, giving us Uber and Seamless gift cards, and donating their time to offer advice or just hang out.

Jon’s job kept him on for over a year and his health coverage helped with nearly every surgery and doctor visit. When, heartbreakingly, he was fully dismissed from his residency program in June, I added him onto my much-less-inclusive plan. That means we pay up to $13,000 per month for some treatments. Still, it bought us time, the only thing that really mattered.

I rarely think about what life would look like if our world didn’t stop spinning in February 2018.. It’s just too hard.

Our two years of marriage feel more like 10 years. We’ve had conversations about kids (we won’t have them) and whether we should take every possible study, medication, and measure to keep Jon going (we will). And we made plans to start living our best possible lives immediately. We’ve used every stable brain scan as an excuse to to travel, see friends, go out to fancy dinners, and basically do everything we never found the time to do when we were both healthy.


Haley Richter Photography

We’re fighting hard so that he can really live, and we’ve both realized that means going against our instincts. Jon, a stickler about spending money and totally thrown by spontaneity, did a 180, planning last-minute trips with joy. And I, a person who’s never once lived in the moment, have slowed down enough to take in our time together—even if it’s just a Sunday running errands.

“We really only started living the best version of our lives after we weren’t sure how long we’d have…”

Since his diagnosis, we’ve seen the Cliffs of Moher, strolled through Notting Hill, driven up the coast of the Pacific Northwest, and eaten all the Cuban food we could find in Miami.

It’s bittersweet, but we really only started living the best version of our lives after we weren’t sure how long we’d have.

I’ve revisited the moment after his first surgery, when doctors assessed his memory. Even if he didn’t know where he lived or what month it was, he knew my name. He knew I was me. And despite all of his losses, I know he’s still Jon.

The road we’re on is incredibly difficult. It’s lonely, tiring, and clearly not a path we’d choose. I don’t know what the future looks like for us, but when I look back I’m grateful that 22-year-old me was smart enough to know I’d found the most incredible person. On our second anniversary last month, one I wasn’t sure we’d make it to, I got Jon and I matching bracelets that say “love never fails” in Morse code beads. So far, it hasn’t.

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