Yet when he dated me, he called me 'Miss Twiggy' and made me eat everything on the menu at McDonald's in front of like fifty photographers. “Look at this bone-bag,” he said, jabbing his finger into my rib cage. “She has legs like toothpicks. Her body is like a bunch of coat hangers wired together. It's disgusting. Why doesn't she get some fat on her?”
Tipo de fuente
Página web
Autor
Joan Stone
Título de la fuente
It's even worse than I thought. Joan Stone's Journal of Worries