I Flew to Brazil to Receive an Emergency Butt Implant

Following breast and lip surgery


At The Airport

Cirurgiã plástica,” to the driver, “jejuar!”. Sans moment to waste.

Four long years after scrimping, saving, and a little “fundraising”, I arrived in the land of skintastical opulence to fulfill God’s unrealized “best version of me” plan.

Fundraising is how I refer to it when I’m the charity. If men are obliged to give me money to look even better than I already do, it’s their prerogative.

What’s this? Traffic? Oh, no no no, por favor. This does not work for me.

“Driver,” I said in my sharpest Portuguese tongue, “you must part the traffic. It’s a medical emergency — ”

I’ve full license to use the word emergency because the doctor is expecting me. That is, I have an appointment. Besides, what could be more important than getting implants?

“Debo brasile…brazil to fill.” Oops, I stumble. That makes no sense.

“Que?” asks the driver

“Umm, stop by the brasserie. I need a new bra for my large implanted breasts.”

What happened after my first surgery was devastating. I became one of those coveted internet models. The weird thing was that no one was interested in getting to know me better. They just wanted to look at and talk about my breasts.

I couldn’t understand why. Was I not a human being, with gigantic boobs, yes, and lips now but one who should be seen for who I was? Why people choose to focus only on the focal points we give them, I’ll never understand.

Once you get to know me, you’ll learn interesting things. Why not start by talking to me like I’m interesting? I have way more to offer than my physical appearance.

Anyway, I got lip implants because I couldn’t stand having people stare only at my boobs. I craved some facial staring, too.

People began to stare at my face, and body, well, most of my body, but soon all of it.

This trip, the one I’m here for is for the butt. After it’s done, I’ll probably look cartoony like one of those soft porn Japanese manga animation characters looks.

I wonder what people will notice first, my boobs or my butt? I’m guessing — both — God, such perverts!

You’d think they’d notice me for who I am which is…well, I guess I’m not easy to pin down. I’m like a chameleon or a caterpillar that metamorphoses sans cocoon right in front of your eyes.

Most people go through their entire lives accepting how they look. I feel sorry for them because they never fully blossom.

“Driver, what’s the problem? — What’s that? — I didn’t need to come to Brazil for butt implants. — What do you mean?”



Writing the script to my shit show one article at a time. I may use affiliate and or sausage links. The end

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Writing the script to my shit show one article at a time. I may use affiliate and or sausage links. The end