A Tall Order for Fat Elvis

I just received the call sheet with details for my Elle photoshoot in New York tomorrow morning. Am v. thrilled, naturally.

However, this sentence jumped out at me like a feral, frothing raccoon: "We need to make sure she looks fashion, not real person."

I hope they have a talented team of stylists, because I have a tendency to look "real person" even if you drape me in Christian Dior and paint my lips Schiaparelli pink. I'm Fat Elvis, after all! I need Visine and a seaweed wrap! I need blotting papers! I need life support!

I just ate a spotty banana and am about to do an hour of yoga, which is hilarious. This is me trying to "look fashion" in twelve hours or less. I am a human Jager bomb.