Dear Tiger Beat,
While flipping through the pages of your latest issue at the local Planned Parenthood, I noticed a small but irrefutable error in your publication: I am not in it. In fact, if your magazine is to be trusted, I don't exist (not true), yet you've somehow found the real estate to litter its innards with overlapping, neon-framed photos Taylor Lautner, Cody Simpson and all of my other contemporaries. Thanks to this glaring oversight, I can guarantee that Big Time Rush is huddled around this same issue somewhere right now, laughing their v-necks off at my absence. God, I hate those guys.
If you actually paid attention to girls aged 11 to 16, then you would know I am a personality treasured within that demographic. My celebrity among the age group is partially a product of my kind and sexually sympathetic eyes and partially because I exude that singular quality that turns every tween into hot mess of quivering hormones: financial stability. There is something about a grown man with no debt and a spectacular credit score that makes young girls weep uncontrollably and tear at their own faces in want. But surely you already know that.
That said, I look forward to next month's issue where I expect I will be prominently featured, doing a sort of half smile, smoldering eye thing while reaching high over my head to casually grab the trim of a doorway with one hand. Or whatever your photographer has in mind for my spread. In the meantime I will do what I can to rectify the current problem using only the following image and a glue stick. A list of all dentist's and doctor's offices subscribing to your magazine would help make this process quicker. Thank you, and you're welcome.