OK, now I’m really, really enjoying what it means to be a mature woman. I’m living the dream! I mean, look at all I have to look forward to: saggy breasts, unattractive, flabby skin on my throat, on my tummy AND under my arms, not to even mention whatever’s hanging off my ass. Why, I couldn’t be more pleased to grow old in such an insultingly nauseating way.
Oh, but hey now: yam cream stops all that from happening! Wow, hooray for yam cream! But wait: Why can’t I save myself $9.99, plus S/H, and just whip up a batch of yam cream right in my very own kitchen? First, I’ll get me some yams:
Oh, but hey now: yam cream stops all that from happening! Wow, hooray for yam cream! But wait: Why can’t I save myself $9.99, plus S/H, and just whip up a batch of yam cream right in my very own kitchen? First, I’ll get me some yams:
I’ll mash ‘em up, then simply apply to my batwings, my saggy knees and all those other sinking, flabby, droopy, floppy, lassitudinous, pendulous, slouchy, wilting parts of my body.
Honest to frigging God, would you ever expect a man to fall for this bullshit?
