Curse you Department store dressing room.
Your bad lights – and mirrors of doom.
My reflection tries to mock me- “You’re looking pretty bad.
Look at those dimples and that behind of flab.”
I look a little closer and I see what she means.
I am dimply, and flabby, and 2 tushes can be seen.
Then I look at my face and it stares back at me.
There are lines and creases where smoothness used to be.
“I need a new face cream”..I whisper to myself.
“Something expensive, a miracle, and not off the shelf.”
Then I look at my hair and see limp strands- a disgrace.
“Maybe I need a new shampoo, or hairspray, or Mace.”
Wounded and low I try on each piece.
First a pair of jeans, then a shirt, then a fleece.
I close my eyes until the clothes are all on,
I step back a step and open my peeps to see what I don.
And lo and behold I don’t look too bad.
I’m not perfect- but clothes hide the flab.
Take that dressing room- you don’t win today.
I am taking these clothes and Oh by the way…
I am proud of the woman I am – it may have taken years
But I love who I am- flab and wrinkles, double butt and big ears.
I have walked a long road to get where I am.
You can try to cut me- but I don’t give a damn!
With every wrinkle and dimple there is a story to tell-
I look back in that mirror – hug myself, and say, “I think I am swell.”