Vienna Würstel stands out as an extraordinary personality on various fronts. Identifying as a “plastic fantastic” beauty enthusiast, she has recently captivated online audiences with her impressive 30ml lips. Despite facing persistent online trolling, she remains steadfast in her pursuit of fuller lips, sharing her beauty journey and challenges on social media.
Vienna has been causing a significant buzz on the internet.
Vienna Würstel, a self-proclaimed “plastic fantastic” beauty influencer, has undergone a lip enhancement procedure, receiving 30ml of filler. Her noticeably voluminous lips have stirred mixed reactions across the internet.
Residing in Mallorca, Spain, Vienna openly acknowledges the challenges posed by her substantial lip enhancement, confessing that even simple tasks like sipping water become a formidable undertaking. She humorously refers to herself as “more lips than human.” Despite the attention garnered on social media, Vienna doesn’t shy away from the reality that she faces significant criticism, evident in the relentless stream of negative comments beneath her Instagram posts.
Vienna is resolute in her pursuit of making her lips even bigger.
In her recent TikTok video, Vienna disclosed that approximately 30ml of fillers still reside in her lips, expressing her hope for even further enhancement in the future. Undeterred by criticism comparing her to a duck, the courageous and resolute woman remains committed to enlarging her lips.
In her own words, “I really, really wish for even bigger lips and I can’t wait for that.” Vienna candidly admitted that achieving more substantial lips is currently her foremost aspiration. However, this has sparked concern among some users, who question the safety of Vienna’s ongoing plastic surgery procedures.
Vienna asserts that all her beauty procedures are safe and bring her pleasure.
The woman remains steadfast in reassuring her subscribers that the substantial amounts of filler she has chosen are entirely safe. Emphasizing the professionalism and high qualifications of her plastic surgeons, she affirms, “If they weren’t highly qualified, they couldn’t reach the sizes on my face, so yes, I’m safe.”
Despite her admiration for her enhanced pout, Vienna openly acknowledges the challenges she faces, particularly when it comes to drinking. In another clip, the plastic surgery enthusiast admits that eating is relatively smooth for her, as long as it involves softer foods. However, she discloses that drinking beverages proves to be more challenging due to her lips. Vienna shares that, because of her lip size, she sometimes feels it’s difficult to function, but she views it as a personal challenge that she’s determined to adapt to.
Here’s another remarkable story of an unstoppable woman whose dream was to emulate Barbie, leading her to invest millions in her transformative journey.
I DIDN’T GET WHY MY BEST STUDENT REFUSED TO PERFORM IN THE SCHOOL CONCERT — UNTIL I SAW WHO HIS DAD WAS
The auditorium buzzed with the expectant energy of parents and students, a sea of faces eager for the school’s annual concert. I stood backstage, a knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach. Jay, my prodigy, my star pupil, was nowhere to be found.
When I first met Jay, I was a fresh-faced music teacher, barely a week into my new role. The reality of wrangling a classroom of energetic children had quickly shattered my romanticized notions of teaching. I’d begun to question my career choice, wondering if I’d made a terrible mistake.
Then Jay sat at the piano. His small hands, seemingly too delicate for the instrument, moved with a surprising confidence. The music that flowed from him was breathtaking, a complex symphony that belied his age and lack of formal training. He was a natural, a raw talent that shone like a diamond in the rough.
I offered him private lessons, eager to nurture his gift. He hesitated, his eyes darting away, and eventually declined. I noticed his solitary nature, his avoidance of the other children, and a sense of unease settled within me. I suspected there was more to Jay’s quiet demeanor than met the eye.
Determined to help him, I offered to teach him without charge. Over the following weeks, we spent hours together, exploring the world of music. Jay absorbed knowledge like a sponge, mastering complex pieces with an almost uncanny speed. He was ready, more than ready, for his debut performance.
But on the day of the concert, he vanished. I searched frantically, my anxiety escalating with each passing minute. Finally, I found him huddled backstage, his small frame trembling, his eyes wide with fear.
“Jay, what’s wrong?” I asked, my voice gentle.
He whispered, his voice choked with terror, “I have to go on… before my father sees me!”
“Why?” I asked, confused. “Why wouldn’t your father want to see you play?”
His eyes widened, and he looked over my shoulder. I turned, and the breath hitched in my throat.
Standing at the entrance to the backstage area was a man I recognized all too well: Richard Thorne, the renowned concert pianist, a man whose name was synonymous with musical genius. He was also Jay’s father.
Richard Thorne was a legend, a figure I had admired from afar for years. His performances were legendary, his technique flawless. But his reputation was also marred by whispers of a cold, demanding perfectionism, a relentless pursuit of excellence that left little room for human frailty.
Suddenly, Jay’s fear, his reluctance to perform, his solitary nature, all made sense. He wasn’t just a talented child; he was the son of a musical titan, a man who likely held his son to impossibly high standards.
Richard’s gaze landed on Jay, and his expression was unreadable. He strode towards us, his presence filling the small backstage area.
“Jay,” he said, his voice low and commanding, “what are you doing here?”
Jay shrank back, his eyes filled with terror. “I… I was going to play,” he stammered.
Richard’s eyes narrowed. “You were going to play? Without my permission?”
“I… I wanted to,” Jay whispered.
Richard’s expression hardened. “You are not ready,” he said, his voice laced with disdain. “You are not even close.”
Jay’s shoulders slumped, his face crumpling with disappointment. I felt a surge of anger, a protective instinct rising within me.
“Richard,” I said, my voice firm, “Jay is incredibly talented. He’s been working hard, and he’s ready to share his gift.”
Richard turned to me, his eyes cold. “You presume to know my son better than I do?”
“I know he loves music,” I said, my voice unwavering. “And I know he deserves a chance to express himself.”
A tense silence filled the air. Richard’s gaze shifted back to Jay, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of something in his eyes, a hint of vulnerability.
“Jay,” he said, his voice softer, “if you truly want to play, then play. But you must understand, you will be judged. You will be compared. And you must be prepared for that.”
Jay looked at his father, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and determination. He nodded, his small frame straightening.
“I’m ready,” he said, his voice barely a whisper, but filled with a quiet strength.
Richard stepped aside, allowing Jay to pass. Jay walked onto the stage, his footsteps echoing in the hushed auditorium. He sat at the piano, his hands trembling slightly.
Then, he began to play.
The music that filled the auditorium was breathtaking. It was Jay’s music, his interpretation, his soul poured into every note. It was not a perfect performance, not a flawless rendition of a master’s work. But it was beautiful, raw, and filled with a passion that resonated with every soul in the room.
When he finished, the auditorium erupted in applause. Richard Thorne stood at the back of the room, his face unreadable. But as Jay walked off the stage, Richard reached out and placed a hand on his son’s shoulder.
“You played well,” he said, his voice low. “But you can do better.”
Jay looked up at his father, his eyes filled with a quiet understanding. He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. He knew that his journey had just begun, and he knew that he had the strength to face whatever challenges lay ahead. He had found his voice, and he would not be silenced.
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