Each time I see a picture like this, I can feel Jen dying a tiny death, like an oragasm in reverse. Even this close to death from starvation, Angelina is breathtaking.
Swathed in nude chiffon, lips emitting a flourescent glare equal to ten thousand scarlet bordello lanterns, Angelina is a vision from another planet. She is absinthe to Jen’s glass of milk.
Poor Jen! Imagine the whole world wondering why you don’t kill yourself? Having to constantly protest that you’re fine, you’re great, you couldn’t be happier?
Angelina is rubbing it in. God bless her.