NYFW aka The Worst People In The World Conference
Me whenever… well, whenever, basically.
A good, long sobbing sesh won’t do much in terms of caloric burn, but looking like a sloppy fucking goblin afterward should teach you a lesson.
What do you think.
Embrace it wholeheartedly, duh. Not only does your tummy go down, you get to stare at yourself in the mirror afterward. What’s not to like?
You could try Sears.
Remember: you control food, not the other way around.
Don’t ever compliment a chic girl on her weight loss. To her, the fact that someone finds her noticeably skinnier must mean that said person once found her to be humongous.
Go big or go the fuck home, am I right?
Me when I see that my frenemy has fallen victim to SSRI-induced blubber gain.
Everyone knows that nothing is chicer than having a nice glass of Bordeaux for dinner.
It’s common fucking knowledge that chic girls are hungry (for both food and attention).
"I haven’t had a cigarette in, like, ages!”