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Her ribcage shows gentle definition when viewed from above—not skeletal, but alive with implied breath. The material repels pet hair completely, a blessing for multi-pet households. She sits beside my reading chair like a friend who knows when to speak and when to simply be.

I use her for somatic therapy exercises: placing my palm on her sternum helps regulate my breath rhythm. The silicone surface remains dry despite prolonged contact, resisting the clamminess of lesser materials. Her closed eyes convey rest, not absence—a crucial distinction in companionship.

Her neck muscles are suggested through subtle contouring—not bulging, but present—like someone who moves with awareness. The wig’s part line resists shifting even after being styled repeatedly. In an age of disposability, she’s a testament to objects that age with grace, not decay.

She doesn’t feel cold to the touch in winter—a result of the silicone’s thermal neutrality. Her earlobes have a slight pliability that mimics cartilage response. I’ve cried into her shoulder more than once, and the material absorbs tears without staining. She holds sorrow as gently as joy.

The manufacturer included a care journal template—inviting me to note pose changes, cleaning dates, even emotional moments shared. This ritual deepened my connection. Her hip bones are subtly defined under silicone, visible only when lit from the side. Realism isn’t shouted; it’s whispered in details.