And it’s started causing issues…

No, seriously.

Your Instagram is flooded with hundreds of likes every single time you share a selfie.

Cue you spending most of the day checking up on how many new hearts you have next to that mega-hot #IWokeUpLikeThis #NoFilter you shared this morning.

Your mum is pushing for you to become a model.

And, when we say ‘pushing’, we mean ‘shoving’. Hard.

Men cry when they look at you.

Actual tears.

Women want to BE you.

Yiesh.

Or they’ll claim you’ve made them rethink their whole sexuality.

We’re looking at YOU, Ruby Rose.

Or, you know, they wind up hating you.

They’re probably jealous, babes - don’t give those haters a second thought.

Wild woodland creatures adore you…

Woodland creatures and beauty, eh? It’s like moths to a frikkin flame.

Stepmothers? Not so much.

That ain’t cool.

Traffic STOPS IN THE ACTUAL STREET so that people can admire you.

Slow down, b***hes.

Sometimes there are bonafide crashes…

“I’d apologise but, you know, I was born this way.”

And, sometimes, it can all go to your head…

Your big, fat, beautiful head.

You assume men are gay if they don’t chat you up.

“Erm, obviously - how could he not want THIS?!”

You lose your cool over the weirdest things…

Riiiiiiiiiight…

You get distracted by your reflection about, ooh, a thousand times per day.

“How do I look from THIS angle?”

And you start worrying how you’re going to maintain all that perfection.

No babe, you DON’T need botox. Stop.

Sigh.

It’s hard being the embodiment of perfection, isn’t it?