If time was a woman, it'd probably have the shape of an hourglass. Her boobs would be minutes, she'll count her freckles in seconds and her soul would count hours of happiness and sorrow.
This Time Woman would spend all her day deciding whether to take the first step towards her countless hours, or to remain caring for her boobs and freckles.
She would spend her hourglass time erasing each freckle, hiding her boobs inch by inch and wasting her soul hour by hour. She would love.
My chic pleasure today is my lack of freckles, my never-will-do boob-job and my endless counting-hours love.
PS. Chic is never stop believing.
It does sound delicious, I'll give you that much!
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