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According to Essence, we narcissists are now paying morticians to do plastic surgery on our corpses.
How, I wonder? Are folks leaving aside money with an attorney directing him to have our boobs lifted while we’re on the slab? I can’t imagine my loved ones caring enough to spend their own cash on my huge pores and even huger butt. I’ve often wondered about my own death, but never, until now that is, how’d I’d look when dead. Thanks Essence.
Good thing I’m going for cremation, because my kids would probably have me ‘Petie-eyed’ for my funeral.
