If a provincial foreigner who had never left his tiny village were to meet me and ask what American women are like, instead of bothering with a long-winded exegesis I would show him this photo. The understanding would be immediate.
Fat? Check.
Delusion of grandeur? Check.
Ridiculous standards? Check.
Pop culture cipher? Check.
Overinflated ego? Check.
Self-entitled princess? Check.
Living in fantasy world? Check.
Craves demonic prolespawn with sexually unavailable, aloof vampire who will always be by her side gazing longingly into her beady, pig-like eyes to protect her from danger? Check and checkmate.
This is how it starts, folks. The road to SUS — Spinsterly, Unattractive and Single.
After the foreigner and I got done laughing, he would thank me for giving him a newfound appreciation of his local women. Joylessly, I would further inform him that there are American men who would happily lay with that porky princess, thus feeding her ego beyond the ability of science to measure it. He would shudder as I told him that desperate betas and indiscriminate horndogs willing to beg for table scraps guarantees there are tens of millions of American women just like her who have no incentive to improve their looks or their attitudes. Then we would part, and I would notice a skip in his step.
Oh well, at least we have cheap smartphones.
[crypto-donation-box]
