You’re gorgeous, young, and rich. You’re part of the biggest movie franchise around, save maybe Harry Potter. You have a vampire AND a werewolf fighting over you, for chrissakes. Life, unlike the Volturi, doesn’t suck.
Stand up straight.
Every time I see you at an schmancy event, hunched over and rocking back and forth like a rhesus monkey who misses its mom, all I think is “Gollum in lipgloss.”
You’re all moody and shit, equating paparazzi photos of you to images of someone being raped. Newsflash, Bella, you don’t get to be emo in Proenza Schouler. You shouldn’t be pissy while getting oxygen facials, being adored by the world's 15 year olds, and macking on R-Patz.
Take some calcium, hit a Pilates Reformer class, and stop looking like you’re itching to ring the bells of Notre Dame at twilight.