Dear My Fat Ass, *
Ok, so I've got good news and bad news, and I'm just gonna give it to you straight. The results of the Fabulous Body Survey 2008 are in:
Good news: British guys t-o-t-a-l-l-y dig you...in like a really major way.
Bad news: you live in America.
I mean, I'm mostly a "glass half full" kinda girl these days, so its pretty cool to think about anyone on the planet actually considering the thought that you don't have enough junk in your motherfuckin trunk, but round these parts, your cup runneth over.
Also, the truth of the matter is that while all those ladies look positively gorge, you know I wanna look more like Tillie and I know you wanna look more like Caroline.
I know this to be true because you've been googling frosting shots all afternoon after eating crispy shrimp last night for dinner and ignoring phone calls from your gym all day...eventhough they're just calling because they want to schedule your free half hour massage and not to yell at you for never ever ever going. But still.
So, the bottom line is this: you must be stopped. Like immediately.
I'm not sure how I'm going to do it yet, but I'm on the goddamned case...and I'm gearing up for a full frontal battle royale, so you better be prepared to throw down.