A scandalous report is apparently being circulated abroad concerning yours truly. From Providence to Boston, it is being whispered
“She’s had plastic surgery!”
For the record, this is the grossest falsehood. I am quite satisfied with the size and relative situation of my features. I can’t seem to find out what miracle procedure I am supposed to have undergone. A little botulism here, a bit of a peel there- giant inflatable pillows inserted neatly into my bottom lip perhaps? Cushions of molded plastic nestling in a pad of fat to give desperately needed shape!
Sorry to disappoint all my little hens, but my cheekbones and worry lines are all my own. If I do decide to staple my face someplace behind my ears or get my tail clipped like a young Doberman, you wee nattering pigeons shall be the first to know. I will send you each a bar of soap rendered from my own fat. Now quietly continue envying me at a distance, please.