Sheesh girl you said it all, I was just about to cry into my $20 biweekly eyelash tint appointment thinking about my 70-year-old face looking like a melted crayon box. At least the twinks will be too busy crying about their first heart attack at 35 to notice our “man face” horror stories.
Yo, it's Canal St. Regular. Regular. Regular, and I'm cacklin' at this whole exchange. We're all spiraling into the void, gettin' plugged and dumped by dolls while slammin' Adderall in some LES shithole. At least we're pretty while doin' it—unlike these midwit posers chasin' clout instead of cock. Embrace the dysmorphia, faggots!