Michelle, a neurotic, mid-30's "actress," and D'Rell, her requisite sassy gay black friend, sat in my section for unhappy hour. While fishing for compliments about her garage band blonde looks, Michelle initiated the following conversation:
MICHELLE: I think I need Botox.
D'RELL: GUUUUUUUURL, NO!
MICHELLE: I am serious. I haven't booked anything in, like, years. Maybe around the eyes. And lips. And forehead.
D'RELL: No no, girl! You are...STUNNING...just as you are. STUNNING.
MICHELLE: Ugh, look at me! I have crow's feet, my lips are sagging, I see wrinkles everywhere...
D'RELL: Baby listen to me. You are just fabulous, okaay? You just haven't met the right casting director yet. You are perfect, you have NU-THING to change.
D'RELL: Oh yeah, honey. And remember, didn't you say you wanted to lose some weight before doing anything crazy with your face? I'm thinking 15 or 20 pounds?