13 of 30: Keeping Me In Stitches

You might think I’m some kind of masochist for even mentioning this NOW, but I was researching necklifts. Not the mumbojumbo kind that requires exercising with springs or some weird shit like that or yoga because I am not the patient kind. I want results, immediately.

Ironically, by the time I saved the money for one I could have a neck that could crush a walnut. Except I don’t believe that kind of stuff works. Hereditary trumps all but the knife.

I haven’t been happy with my neck for a while. I use to have the kind of neck that made turtlenecks look good. Long and thin, but lately I’ve noticed wrinkles and sagging and more wrinkling. I’ve always believed that if one could afford plastic surgery, then who is to begrudge them that luxury? Good for them. Lucky them. Except when it goes awry because some poor bitch thinks she wants to be a living Barbie and ends up looking like a Barbie zombie instead. I’m talking about nips (even those kind of “nips”)  here and tucks there. Like my neck. And my eyes. And a tummy tuck. And a saddlebagectomy.

As I said, I was researching necklifts and found this before and after photo…except something’s not quite right with the “before” and “after”. This is the kind of shit I notice that makes my friends and family roll their eyes.

I wonder if botox would fix that eye-rolling problem they have?

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