Yolanda Foster Combs Through Her Own Feces

We all know hot chicks do disgusting shit and could care less what you think. More so than less attractive looking women who might worry that their dirty habits will tip the scales on their social cred. Model looking women have always been in demand from the opposite sex. They are free to be nasty.

In her new medical memoir, Believe Me, the Dutch former hot 80’s model (see photo left) and mother to Bella Hadid and Gigi Hadid, Yolanda Foster, details the extent to which she went to cure herself of her wretched celebrity lyme disease. Most of it was your run of the mill crazy rich chick hops the globe in search of treatment for illness no real doctor will certify. Lots of expensive unproven laser treatments in Europe, gene therapies in Seoul, tree bark teas in the Amazon, peyote and smoke houses out in the desert with Shamans. About $150,000 of adventure medical travel over the course of a year.

Finally, Hadid settled back into her Malibu home and a series of self-injected vitamin rich IVs. Not exactly self-injected, she has a fake nurse who assists. She forces her daughter and son to follow the same regimen. She declared them lyme disease carriers as well, based on her medical training garnered from mounting rich husbands through the years. Foster claims she’s on the mend from the disease which left her with the symptoms of being dramatically listless, achy, and unable to perform complex math equations. So similar to drinking too much. Imagine the aha moment when that’s taken to heart.

Yet nothing in Foster’s elaborate array of Munchausen’s plot points quite competes with the revelation that she maintains a lab in her home where she dissects her own feces. 

According to Foster, during one of her thrice weekly colonics in Santa Monica, she expelled a 16-inch “monster” that she believes was in her body for twenty to thirty years. Kind of like Elvis. Go figure how she knows the exact size. Or don’t, she measured it. Obsessed with the notion that bowel movements unmoved since the 80’s might be damaging her body, Foster turned her guest bathroom into a table top mini-lab for combing through her shit looking for parasites.

GI tract issues are not an entirely crazy underlying theory to people who feel lethargic and horrible. It is crazy when you’re picking through your own crap daily with a Goop feces exam kit. Charlie Sheen sunk as low as arthritic goat’s milk from Mexico to solve his little The AIDS issue. Even he wouldn’t take tweezers to his deuces thrice daily in the powder room.

Like most attractive women, Foster has been able to build herself a career, a sweet bank account, and a bunch of wealthy men despite the fact she’s stark raving mad and plays with her own shit. Men simply don’t care what their women do so long as they don’t have to hear about it. In fact, it’s reported that her last husband, songwriter David Foster, split with her when he couldn’t take her lyme trial tails any longer. It’s hard enough to get a decent boner in your 50’s, doing so while hearing about parasitic colon creatures can’t help.

It’s all documented on the pages of Believe Me. In the very least, it’s probably twenty-percent more authentic than What Happened, if you’re looking for the light reading memories of a woman you couldn’t stand.

_{Photo Credit: Getty Images}