Alright, look, I snapped. That's all there is to it. Everyone looks at me and thinks, "Oh, you've got it so easy, you've got looks and... well, looks. And how hard can it be being a plastic doll with ginormous boobs?"
Let me tell you it's not that easy. For starters, I don't have a man in my life. I'm not one of those women who needs a man to make her happy; I'm pretty much happy all the time. I can't help it. My face is made this way. But sometimes a girl wants a little masculine companionship, you know? As for Ken, you knew he was gay, right? I mean, just look at his wardrobe. But I've seen him naked. Gay is the least of it. He's in good shape and all, but... Well, I can't go into details, but let's just say he doesn't have what it takes to satisfy an eight-inch tall plastic woman.
And it's not easy keeping the equivalent of an 18-inch waist and a 39-inch bust, especially since I can't do Pilates, yoga, or anything. My knees don't bend. God, just one day I wish I could sit down. My only alternative is to diet. I simply don't eat. Ever.
So can you blame me for letting fly a little F-Bomb? But I'm sorry. I know I said it in front of a little girl who is impressionable and looks up to me as a role model to teach her important values like shopping, getting mani-pedis, having nice clothes, an 18-inch waist, and 39-inch boobs. I let her down, and I'm sorry.
Bitch.
