You know those people — mostly women, I'm thinking about my competition here — who are incapable of taking a bad picture? For realzies, they're all like, "Ugh, I guess I have to use THIS photo to document day 17 of my yearly trip to Europe. I know, it's just so horrible." And you're like, "Ba--Faaa--jiggida--whaaa?" because it looks like they just got splashed with Fountain of Youth water and hit with sparkles from a vampire's body and their "messy hair" is like a unicorn's main.
Anyway, you know those women? I'm not one of them.
And so I have a way of thwarting anyone who would dare critique my baby-fat-that-just-won't-seem-to-leave-my-face-like-ever, or my hair-that's-been-struck-by-lighting-with-17-rats-nesting-inside-it. I just make myself TOO easy of a target, so then people think, "Why bother? She's gotsta know there's something wrong." You can't make fun of what I've already made fun of for you, suckas! Take that, Miss-Pegasus-Goddess-of-Perfect-Skin-and-Yoga-Pants! Sincerely, Ogre-Legs-with-the-surface-of-Mars-face.