Imagine being Adam Driver in those scenes and having to be all like “damn, Lena Dunham, you fuckin` fine, all sexy with your mayonnaise stuffed into an industrial sized garbage bag body and horrific snaggle toothed monster face. I would totally have sex with you, both my character and the real me.” when all he really wants to do is fuck another 18 year old in his dressing room. Like seriously imagine having to be Adam and not only act on that show while Lena Dunham flaunts her disgusting body in front of you, the favorable lighting barely concealing her cellulite and blotchy skin, and just sit there, take after take, hour after hour, while she perfected that scene. Not only having to tolerate her moon-faced fucking visage but her haughty attitude as everyone on set tells her she’s TOTALLY EMPOWERED and DAMN, LENA DUNHAM LOOKS LIKE THAT?! because they’re not the ones who have to sit there and watch her hippoish fucking face contort into types of smug smirks you didn’t even know existed before that day. You’ve been fucking nothing but a healthy diet of 7/10's and Iraqi captives for your ENTIRE CAREER coming straight out of the boonies in Missouri. You’ve never even seen anything this fucking disgusting before, and now you swear you can taste the sweat that’s breaking out on her rotund stomach as she sucks it in to writhe it suggestively at you, smugly assured that you are enjoying the opportunity to get paid to sit there and revel in her “curvaceous (for that is what she calls herself)” beauty, the beauty she worked so hard for with Pinkberry and Cinnabun in the previous months. And then the director calls for another take, and you know you could kill every single person in this room before the studio security could put you down, but you sit there and endure, because you’re fucking Adam. You’re not going to lose your future Star Wars money over this. Just bear it. Hide your face and bear it.