I have very full ideals, and I think that by gritting my teeth and getting a breast augmentation surgery, I can win the heart of my male god!
The reality is very skinny. It doesn't matter if the person doing the surgery is a man, but why is he still a dead man!
I can bear it without a warm embrace when I open my eyes, but damn, can you stop screaming at the top of your lungs: "Beauty, she's out of the coffin..."
