On the cover of a magazine.

Cats have nine lives.
Jon and Kate plus eight.
There are seven deadly sins.
Guitars have six strings.
Actors take five.
There are four seasons.
Three is a crowd.
You kill two birds with a single stone.
One is the lonliest number.

On the cover of a magazine what do you see? Glamorous people. Silky hair. White teeth. High cheekbones. Long legs. Oh, and of course, thin bodies. They all have one thing in common. Perfection. Or at least the appearance of perfection. All the scars are painted over on the cover of a magazine. No one can compare to the cover of a magazine. You can be a size two, but of course that doesn't mean a thing. You will NEVER be good enough. No matter how hard you try, you will fail. So, why don't you borrow my philosophy. Don't try. If you fail, but don't try, you won't feel as bad as if you gave it your all and still came up short. I used to live by this philosophy. Until now. Because those models. Those fake models. On the cover of the magazine, are just that, FAKE. And being real is so much better than trying so hard to be something that doesn't exist. Did you know that Barbie's fake? Yep, completely artificial. Did you also know that if Barbie was real, like an actual person, she would die. According to scientists (from a source I'm too lazy to look up), Barbie's waist is too thin, her boobs are too big, and her feet are too small that she wouldn't be able to stand, she would just fall over because or her proportions. So, if you want to strive to some completely ficticious plastic, then go ahead. But even printed on glossy paper, you would still be you, a real person. Not a magazine cover.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, one may be the lonliest number. But I would rather be one lonely person who is real, than one equally lonely fake person with a lot of equally lonely and insecure friends. I'd take legitimate, tangible, and authentic over wannabe, any day.