I'm five feet eleven and one hundred twenty pounds. Unless you're intimidated by that, in which case the only word to describe me is "petite." By no means would I dare to be chunky. Not around you or your friends, anyway.
I have flaming red hair that's long and curly, unless you're intimidated by that, in which case I have blond hair that's cute and straightish, in a Martha Stewart-esque bob.
I have a good job, but don't worry -- it's not as good as yours.
All of my underwear is cute. And I don't ever have my period. Not around you or your friends, anyway.
I'm a gourmet cook, unless that intimidates you, in which case I charmingly burn macaroni and cheese, giggle with a blotch of flour on my nose and my chef's hat all askew, and then order out.
I can't get enough sex -- unless that intimidates you (in which case you may be gay). But don't worry -- I wouldn't EVER act slutty! At least, not around your friends or family. No, I am tomboyish and relatively proper in the outside world, but as soon as you and I get in the bedroom you'll see that I have learned to tuck my slender ankles behind my perfectly proportioned ears.
I'm always smiling, unless that intimidates you, in which case I sometimes have a thoughtful yet cute grimace on my face (maybe when I'm trying to figure out something TOUGH, like taxes or oh, I don't know, how to change a tire)!
I know how to change a tire, unless that intimidates you -- in which case, see above.
All I'm really looking for is a pudgy, balding man who lives with his mom.