Diet? Working out? Honey, you do realize you're a God, don't you? You don't need to eat, or sleep, or fuck if you don't want to. It was nonsense. Surely, the empty poptarts boxes and fanta cans in her trash told the internet queen that the pretty little rave girl was less than careful about what she ate.
"Something sweet and loaded and I'll love you forever." Called back.
The pizza.. and the wings.. and the breadsticks.. and the cinnamon sticks; were paid for, and the young fellow tipped. She settled the food out on the coffee table and wandered off into the bedroom then. There's a bit of digging to be done then, if only because her guest is a couple of sizes bigger; Not to call her fat, of course not, but Rave could squeeze herself into large childs sizes when she wanted to so finding a top long enough to cover Myspace's chest was part of the challenge.
Finally she comes up with a pale purple capri and tank set in the softest, stretchy cotton. It should keep the woman decent, anyway. It was a bit big on Rave, and therefore rarely worn. A gift, from someone who hadn't anticipated the girl's size without her additions. She patters through and settles the two items into the bathroom.
"They're waiting for you in the potty when you're ready."