Honestly, darling, returning to the runway—pardon me, my throne—just two weeks after giving birth to the most stylish hybrid in the universe is not a feat every woman can pull off. But this is Madison we're talking about; I'm working that postpartum glow, with a cold compress in one hand and an obsidian staff in the other, picking up the "Operation Tacky" right where I left off.
In the misty, high-fashion atmosphere of Purgatory, sitting there with my skin glowing from a liquid nitrogen treatment, I looked like a literal goddess rising from the ashes.
I caught Astaroth watching me with pure adoration from across the hall. He was rocking Valerys in his massive, battle-scarred arms, a look of absolute devotion on his face. I blew him a kiss.
"Do you see this, babe? I'm co-parenting, I'm getting back into shape with nitrogen, and I'm filtering the trash of the universe all at once. Being multi-talented is literally my curse!"
