- Joined
- Aug 29, 2018
I'm not surprised that she's taking the old comment lockdown approach and eschewing livestreams for edited vlogs.
In some ways, this is perhaps the most humiliating defeat she's had so far since she went public. Worse than Bibi kicking her to the curb. Worse than Nader and DeeDee roping her into a degenerate threeway. Worse than the hysterectomy. Worse than FFG relieving her of her cat.
This was supposed to be the culmination of every fantasy she has ever had in her fat head, and it was supposed to make the audience weep with jealousy. She met her "soul mate" and pledged marriage within the first 24 hours (or so her story goes; I have a lot of doubts about the official narrative). He is the handomest man, one all the Beezers would die for. He loves her deeply and unconditionally, and forgives her all her faults. Nobody has ever married such a prince of a man.
She had her new reversion to Islam. It erased her past and rendered it immaculate. All is forgiven. All the drugs, all the debauchery, all the gluttony, all the greed, all the stupidity, all the filthiness...all of it cleansed in Allah's forgiving glow. So, the bitches in the audience had no grounds on which to criticize her past. If Allah had so completely forgiven her, to the extent of rewarding her with Prince Perfect, then who are the fatties in the audience to criticize her?
Kuwait was Camelot. Obese people are commonplace there, so she wouldn't be a spectacle (she miscalculated there). The food is the freshest, the views are the prettiest, the culture is superior. She has a seaside condo from which she can influence. She has a series of brand new super cars. She can walk to the beach.
She was cleansed of corrupt Western morals. As a Muslim woman, she was modest and pure. The Beezers are inferior Westerners, impure and decadent.
Salah was a major businessman, and she was helping with his business. YouTube was just a side hustle to their main work, which was scientific and artistic and very lucrative. They had friends who would come and visit and eat chocolate candy bars and drink juice boxes with them.
As a modest Muslim, she wouldn't talk about sex, but she assured us that Salah loves her body and that every night was a romantic night, with plenty of erotic play.
It was utterly idyllic. A Shangri-la of worldly, cosmopolitan, influencer chic. A life anyone would die for. At last, she could present herself at the tippity toppity of the highest mountain, the full actualization of everybody's dreams and aspirations.
At least this is how it was all presented. The reality was an utterly ham-handed hackjob of fakery, far too insubstantial and incongruous to be believable. Nobody was buying it. But she didn't back down.
So now we reach this juncture. It is one everybody was expecting and awaiting. The wheezing sack of festering fat now has to return home, chastened. All she has built is lost, except for her faithful hubby from whom she will now be separated (and who is pretty likely to leave the picture completely). She leaves poorer than before, with fewer viewers and Beezers, in failing health, with nowhere to really go. Everything is now exposed as the sham everyone always knew it was. She burned her last bridges with anyone in her life except her soon-to-be-ex. The Grim Reaper is now aggressively tapping on her window.
No wonder she complains that her "mental health" is disturbing her. This is a colossal fall from being within reach of everything she ever wanted to essentially the cold, frozen gutter.
It is almost poetic how she is unravelling so fast and losing everything so completely. Hell, I'd do drugs too if I were in her fat shoes. I don't believe in "karma"; that's just magical thinking that is the resort of the unempowered and weak. But if I did, this is becoming an almost majestic example of it.
In some ways, this is perhaps the most humiliating defeat she's had so far since she went public. Worse than Bibi kicking her to the curb. Worse than Nader and DeeDee roping her into a degenerate threeway. Worse than the hysterectomy. Worse than FFG relieving her of her cat.
This was supposed to be the culmination of every fantasy she has ever had in her fat head, and it was supposed to make the audience weep with jealousy. She met her "soul mate" and pledged marriage within the first 24 hours (or so her story goes; I have a lot of doubts about the official narrative). He is the handomest man, one all the Beezers would die for. He loves her deeply and unconditionally, and forgives her all her faults. Nobody has ever married such a prince of a man.
She had her new reversion to Islam. It erased her past and rendered it immaculate. All is forgiven. All the drugs, all the debauchery, all the gluttony, all the greed, all the stupidity, all the filthiness...all of it cleansed in Allah's forgiving glow. So, the bitches in the audience had no grounds on which to criticize her past. If Allah had so completely forgiven her, to the extent of rewarding her with Prince Perfect, then who are the fatties in the audience to criticize her?
Kuwait was Camelot. Obese people are commonplace there, so she wouldn't be a spectacle (she miscalculated there). The food is the freshest, the views are the prettiest, the culture is superior. She has a seaside condo from which she can influence. She has a series of brand new super cars. She can walk to the beach.
She was cleansed of corrupt Western morals. As a Muslim woman, she was modest and pure. The Beezers are inferior Westerners, impure and decadent.
Salah was a major businessman, and she was helping with his business. YouTube was just a side hustle to their main work, which was scientific and artistic and very lucrative. They had friends who would come and visit and eat chocolate candy bars and drink juice boxes with them.
As a modest Muslim, she wouldn't talk about sex, but she assured us that Salah loves her body and that every night was a romantic night, with plenty of erotic play.
It was utterly idyllic. A Shangri-la of worldly, cosmopolitan, influencer chic. A life anyone would die for. At last, she could present herself at the tippity toppity of the highest mountain, the full actualization of everybody's dreams and aspirations.
At least this is how it was all presented. The reality was an utterly ham-handed hackjob of fakery, far too insubstantial and incongruous to be believable. Nobody was buying it. But she didn't back down.
So now we reach this juncture. It is one everybody was expecting and awaiting. The wheezing sack of festering fat now has to return home, chastened. All she has built is lost, except for her faithful hubby from whom she will now be separated (and who is pretty likely to leave the picture completely). She leaves poorer than before, with fewer viewers and Beezers, in failing health, with nowhere to really go. Everything is now exposed as the sham everyone always knew it was. She burned her last bridges with anyone in her life except her soon-to-be-ex. The Grim Reaper is now aggressively tapping on her window.
No wonder she complains that her "mental health" is disturbing her. This is a colossal fall from being within reach of everything she ever wanted to essentially the cold, frozen gutter.
It is almost poetic how she is unravelling so fast and losing everything so completely. Hell, I'd do drugs too if I were in her fat shoes. I don't believe in "karma"; that's just magical thinking that is the resort of the unempowered and weak. But if I did, this is becoming an almost majestic example of it.
Last edited: