Friday, July 28, 2006

Dear Stuff Magazine:

I hope to one day fulfill my dream of gracing your smooth glossy cover. And Stuff, I choose you- the 3rd most popular men's magazine. I like the number 3, and do not have the confidence to approach the tastemakers of the prestigious Maxim Magazine, for I know that I am certainly no Brooke Burke, Stacey Keibler or god forbid, Cindy Margolis. Those ladies are big winners. As for FHM, I'm always certain that the lady on the cover is a real "somebody" in the world.

I want to be a babe- a STUFF babe. I can't even describe the elation I would feel to see my face across from a bachelor's toilet. Just to think that I would be sitting on the floor in any number of men's bathrooms across the country would give me such joy. When the female form wants to be appreciated in the finest airbrushed splendor possible, I know you do your best to deliver. Somewhere deep inside of me, I know that I can validate myself as a woman, that the vomiting and starvation has paid off, and that people will definitely be looking at my breasts for sure. That's just the kind of special feeling I know being a STUFF babe could bring me.

It would be really cool if people could think I wasn't just regular hot, but magazine hot, and then want to sleep with me moreso cause I'd be kind of more famous than before. I bet guys would be more likely to buy me things and that people I didn't talk to much in high school would come out of the woodwork and want to catch up on old times. They'd know for sure that I was a bad girl who's really good in bed and probably swallows no matter how chunky.

One day, Stuff magazine, I can see myself, flawlessly emblazoned with the right amount of highlighting, bright eyes, blown up titty and hopefully I'll even get to curve my back and stick out my ass while wearing some hipster panties. Then I'll feel really good about myself. You have a skill for making every woman look their most beautiful as all women in your magazine look exactly the same. You guys know what guys want and what they like, and quite honestly, I am worthless when I'm not tailoring myself to such ends.

Seriously, I mean it. It's really not enough to be good looking. I'll always feel inferior without Stuff magazine certified babe status. Dear god, please, please objectify me. I am going to fucking freak the fuck out if I don't have more pathetic, unattractive retards adding me to their spank banks. Not that all of your readers are retards. Just that I know some of them are, and for their sake, I'm grateful. And lord knows I'm dying for the thumbs up from fratboy meatheads, they're my fave.

Anyways, you just think it over and I'll be over here doing situps and prancing around my room in heels and short shorts. I'll be sure to wear a cropped tank top with underboob hanging out just in case. And if you ever need a racy quote to correspond with my picture, I'll happily oblige, and PS- I like to eat popsicles and lolipops while having my picture taken (though I wouldn't mind if we skip the metaphors and put an actual dick in my mouth).

Sincerely,

Heather Fink

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