I own and wear this shirt.
Somehow, I don't know if a fat mommy with two whining kids in tow can technically be considered a "hottie."
My name is not Barbie. I don't look like Barbie. I'm not made of plastic. My legs don't go up to my neck. I've never been to Malibu. I don't have a hotpink convertible car. I don't have a boyfriend named Ken.
Well, maybe this shirt is a little less ironic, a little more true.