Forever young Salma Hayek is in the pages of this month's Lucky magazine, looking her characteristically fully bosomed self. I've always thought of Salma's beauty as her own lucky hand in the genetic poker game, which makes me concerned when she starts to talk about Botox and concepts like "drug store beauty," as mentioned on the cover here. I don't know what that means, but it sounds like a kind of pharmaceutical equivalent to beer goggles. Some Ambien-induced fantasy where your homely neighbor with the cat sweaters starts to resemble Salma with her tits overflowing out of expensive dresses. Whatever she's talking about, I doubt anyone could duplicate Salma's level of hotness with it. That kind of beauty doesn't come from anything sold in a bottle or injected via syringe. You got to come by that honest or not at all.
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