Dear Santa,
For christmas this year, I would like to have a free fat transplant. If that's even possible.
Who cares if it's impossible. Like seriously.
I don't give a fxck because it's your fucking job to give me fucking good present.
And you better fucking arrive with
those fucking fats stored in a box
wrapped in toilet paper, you fucking dickhead!
xx
So yeah,
I've been behaving.
Oh take pity on this innocent and pure soul. I'm just asking for some fats.
Is it too much to ask for dear beloved
fat-man-with-insanely-ugly-white-facial-hair-who-slugs-all-the-way-to-North-Pole-with-fucked-up-reindeers-pulling-his-fat-arse-all-the-way-home-and-goes-hohoho-and-then-hooks-up-with-whores?
At least spare those pitiful struggling animals, Santa.
Take a break and have a tea party with me.
I'm sure i'll make the tea as sweet as possible.
I can't contain the excitement anymore. It's killing me.
I need to grow horizontally, pronto!
Fats are needed to fill up spaces in my body.
FAT TRANSPLANT ARE DEFINITELY APPRECIATED.
till then motherfxcker,
Love,
Myra.