OK, so let’s talk about beauty.
First, the face.
The face is not like a plate on your mukbang table. It’s not flat, it’s not two-dimensional. If you only have one angle that makes you look passable on camera – you’re not beautiful. You need to have a good profile, too – which you don’t. If you need to hide large parts of it – it’s not beautiful. You need to have pleasing, regular features – not a witch’s chin, not the angry looking, overarched eyebrows, not the potato-like, bulbous nose, not the weird corners of fat-laden eyelids. You need to have a nice smile. That involves no gaps in your teeth, which, by the way, ought to be white. You need to have clear and even complexion, unblemished skin. No rosacea, no enlarged pores resembling little craters on that full-moon-shaped circle of a face. No blackheads. No lip sores.
Your face – the feature you think is your best – is not even pretty.
Then, the body.
Oh, where do I even start? It doesn’t have to be thin, but it has to have good proportions – harmonious, well-balanced proportions. Long legs. Straight back. A waist. Firm, toned muscles and skin that doesn’t sag. I can’t even describe how far removed from that ideal you are. The head that sticks out in the middle of your chest with no neck in sight. Your hunched back, your extreme fat rolls, your horrifying fupa balls, that strange, asymmetrical posture, that weird, wobbly gait, those sausage fingers with awful-shaped nails. If you hadn’t ruined what little nature gave you, you could still never have been called beautiful, but at least people wouldn’t point their fingers at you in the streets now. And, oh, the hair. Yes, to be beautiful you have to have hair. On your head. Not on your chin.
So, no, zero on that count, too.
Lastly, the mind.
That dark soul, like a cauldron where a stinking mixture of lies and manipulations brews in the thick sauce of gaslighting, denial and delusion. That blackish, foul soul that mimics human emotions and behaviours, yet fails every time because your mind is empty, lazy and uninterested in anything that is not itself. Hate and hunger – the only driving forces that propel this mass of moving blubber.
Very unfortunate for you. And still – not in the least beautiful.
In the eye of the beholder?
Shall we count the beholders who shudder with disgust at the sight of you against the number of those that tell you you’re beautiful? All those repulsed people against your robotic fake-husband, yourself, a couple of your sock accounts and several obvious trolls?
So, no. You are not beautiful in any capacity. And you will never be. Enjoy the rest of your wretched existence.
I know she’s irredeemable in the eyes of many here, due to her participation in so many of Gunts charades in the past, but idk, I like her now, maybe I’m naive but I feel she’s genuinely woken up and smelled the rancid Barracuda gunt.
