Does God hate supermodels
This is a question that has been bothering me for decades and one that I continually lose sleep over.
I really hope that someone can provide me with an answer because I've noticed that so many have unlimited and immeasurable knowledge about the divinity and other-worldly subjects.
I think that God displays a slight aversion towards supermodels because duuh he made them so skinny and we all know that skinny supermodels have stinky breath because they suffer from gastric reflux as a result of their stomachs being full of alcohol and lettuce and their noses are always blocked.
Another reason why I think God may find supermodels objectionable is because he makes them do such difficult things like making them do the supermodel walk on a runway in front of lots of strange people.
Do you know how difficult it is to actually do the supermodel walk in 10 inch heels with a gut full of Dom Perignon and nasal passages dripping with dissolving stimulants at 9.30am? No I didn't think so!
Well God knows and yet he expects these cute little 26 pound creatures with no titties and bunion feet to do just that. How cruel!
Supermodels carry the weight of the world on their fragile and emaciated little shoulders because they know that without them we the people would wake up every morning totally clueless as to what to wear or even how to mix and match.
Could you handle such a burden...hmm? think not!
They make life so much easier when they show us stuff like why pink and green should not be seen without a color in between.
Once I wore my hot pink blazer and lime green trousers to work and all day long I received strange looks from my colleagues, but the moment I slipped on my gelato blue alligator skin belt on (in between) instantly things got back to normal and everything was different. Thanks supermodels!
What other evidence do you see why God hates supermodels? Don't hold back, hit me with the truth right between my glazed and starry little brown eyes so I can end the decades of insufferable agony and self perpetuating torment.
Cheers from your purveyor of boundless futility.